bass-ackwards()

When I was an undergrad studying music composition I worked, briefly, with the composer Samuel Adler. One day during a lesson he told me “artists, as a rule, do everything bass-ackwards”. I don’t recall the inspiration for his remark, but I do remember him raising his voice, shaking his head, and waving his arms as he said it. I came away with the impression that this sort of logic, for artists, was a part of our DNA and needed to be accepted and managed. Every once in a while I’ll catch myself doing something and remember Sam’s comment, and smile when I realize that, for me in that moment, there isn’t any other way, and it’s OK.

Recently a student in my interactive scripting class, questioned the importance of scripting cross-media events in pseudocode as we’d been doing all semester. She reminded me that she is an artist in art school (something I had reminded the students of a few times during the term), and she had already figured out a fine project without formally and abstractly writing down the logic.

I reminded her that a requirement of their final projects was, in addition to a completed project, a master script for the event(s) they had devised in pseudocode. This requirement struck her as useless given the fact that she had already conceptualized and begun to run her project without any pseudocoding: case closed.

I recalled this quote from John Dewey:

The artist has his problems and thinks as he works. But his thought is more immediately embodied in the object. Because of the comparative remoteness of his end, the scientific worker operates with symbols, words and mathematical signs. The artist does his thinking in the very qualitative media he works in, and the terms lie so close to the object that they merge directly into it.

Scripting, I reminded her, can serve as a tool for analyzing the causes and effects within a project to permit the creator(s) to fine-tune them by revealing some of the inner workings of the piece abstractly.

When we can view the logic of a gesture we may understand it in greater detail, and realize that it is composed of various elements and nuances. Understanding our intentions from this view we may then seek various viable hosts for the different aspects and nuances that comprise the gesture and find appropriate media to support and reveal each element, then edit accordingly to insure that the overall intention is effectively conveyed via the ensemble of actions and media we have devised.

I told my student that scripting after the project is already worked out in one’s head is just as useful as the other way around, especially for complex works whose medium is, essentially, an ensemble of actions across a broad spectrum of methods and materials. Then, privately (and after many years), I recalled Maestro Adler’s remark and saw my DNA as a script that contains a nucleotide base we’ll call the function bass-ackwards().

just draw me a map

Last year I heard Gregg Bordowitz give a talk and at one point he quipped about how disinterested he has become in artists engaging in what they claim is research.  He spoke about his time as a studio assistant for Joseph Kosuth and how Kosuth had often expressed the idea of art aspiring toward the condition and rigor of science.

At the time I bristled at that comment, feeling that research could certainly be carried out by artists and that suggesting otherwise was banishing art to the margins of modern culture, because we all can conduct research and the more of us engaging in and sharing our research the more detailed our understanding of the world becomes.  The boundaries separating science from art were impeding a deeper understanding of our experience.

Well, I love making art and enjoy studying research.  Whenever I make a new piece I inevitably benefit from the research of someone I’ve never met, and whose name(s) I will probably never know – if I’m building something electronic, working on a scent, traveling somewhere to install something, etc., but I have come to think that research is some concrete act with protocols, methods, goals, and happy accidents (I’ve been looking at Nassim Taleb’s The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable, lately and he suggests that many scientific discoveries were, in fact, accidents that occurred while researchers were exploring something else – he cites Viagra as such a [happy] accident.  To me, the fact that these accidents occurred under controlled circumstances by actual researchers suggests that while one researcher’s specific hypothesis may be flawed, the process of scientific inquiry seems to nevertheless produce useful results – intended or otherwise).  I feel that by engaging in the study of other people’s work and by working myself in a cross-media/ensemble of actions style I am integrating the fruits of a real researcher’s research into my work and providing whoever encounters the resulting piece an opportunity to experience the integration of, for example, science and art.

Telling you that I am engaging in research, either explicitly or implicitly (the look, feel and form of a piece suggesting the work is visualizing/sonifying some data) is misleading and complicates the experience and ultimately confounds the mind.  I really don’t like that at all.  I don’t follow scientific methodology, I don’t do double-blind experiments, for example, and publish papers on my findings that include detailed instructions for another researcher to re-create and test my data.  Those, as I understand it, are significant aspects of what research is. Creating a Flash application, for example, that looks like some kind of map and claiming that map visualizes some ‘data set’ you’ve harvested and then not providing details to recreate your work and earnestly study it means, to me, that you are posing.  Sorry.  We now have many design tools at our disposal that can create the look and feel of research without any actual research present.

I am fortunate to be on the advisor’s panel to a local science center that includes numerous scientists and researchers.  During a meeting last Spring we were shown an animation created by a leading university about the inner workings of the body on a cellular level.  The animation, replete with what sounded like a score composed by John Williams, looked marvelous.  At the conclusion some members of the panel applauded.  Several members of the panel did not applaud and instead expressed concerns that the animation was inaccurate in regard to some essential elements of cellular interactions within the body.  Specifically in regard to the copious ‘open spaces’ within the body as portrayed in the animation.  One scientist referred to the animation as potentially dangerous for young learners because it looked too much like proper science – and would embed faulty images in a young mind that could ultimately complicate further study.  The same person went on to say that such images, for the same reasons, could only slow down public assimilation of current and future understandings.  He then expressed his love and belief in art, and a wish that artists would be artists, and to express their understandings of scientific data metaphorically, and to then have science centers present those metaphoric understandings along with accurate images of scientific facts.  His thinking was that both are equally important.  I thought that was a fine idea.

I’m in favor of integration of experience, but I feel that when artists create visualizations/sonifications of what amounts to questionable data (I’m speaking about artists whose work is clearly and intentionally about some data, yet the data is inscrutable, un-repeatable, too personal, mysterious, otherwise useless, etc.) and that is the sole intention of the project, they are, in effect, working to further complicate our experience and understanding and probably squandering resources and time to do it.  It also occurs to me that inscrutable info-art fetishizes the idea of knowledge = power, and falsely places the artist in an imaginary power position in the context of ‘actual’ researchers and scientists, and the audience in the position of those subservient to the imperial and ever so complicated data-set.
Any culture prizing, hoarding, and essentially worshipping information about seemingly every aspect of our experience, as we seem to, must feel, deep down, that they don’t know very much.  It is as if the digital patina is making us forget all of the heuristics (the rules of thumb) that we have collectively come to know (without explicitly having to learn them) about being human over the past 10,000 years, and we are clumsily trying to re-learn everything.  How often have you experienced a digital work and thought later how fundamentally simple the premise was yet how complicated and resource intensive the implementation?  Perhaps artists can work to maintain the availability and presence of that diverse body of heuristic, collective understandings and in so doing provide a balance to the reams of useful but increasingly alienating and often complicating information piling up all around us.  Just my opinion.

alone in the otherness

or, what i didn’t do over my summer vacation…or, this is what happens when you stew over things.  i’ve been talking about and mulling over what follows since june.  i need to put this down and keep going.  i’m very interested in the ideas.  i’m just not going to practice stew no more.

so,

my father called to tell me that he heard something on NPR about how insects emit frequencies that resonate sympathetically with the plant life around them in such a way that certain plants become transmitters of specific frequencies emitted by bees and other insects.

i’ve been spending much more time in the woods this summer and, around the time of my father’s call, had been climbing trees.  the tree climbing began when it was necessary for me to use a tree to get over a fence in a park i frequent.  once in the tree i realized that without much trouble i could ascend further and, well, now i enjoy climbing trees…

anyway, i noticed that when my body is pressed onto a limb (in my case, often holding on [er…hugging] in fear), how much i could feel the movements of the trees, the leaves, and, by extension, the vibrations from the surrounding air and earth.

while in a tree i remembered a deep listening exercise i learned from pauline oliveros i’d practiced with my students that involved focusing one’s attention on the nearest and then farthest perceptible sounds. deciding to adapt this exercise by focusing on the movements within the tree, i closed my eyes and, after a while, felt an increase in the lower frequency rumblings. i realized that i was about fifty feet from some lightrail tracks and assumed that a train was about to pass.  looking up i glanced out and waited for what felt like too long – and i momentarily thought i was sensing something else when the signal increased dramatically and the train finally passed.  i estimate that i sensed the train about three minutes before it arrived.

later, i saw a flock of birds lift off from a neighboring field and quickly get into formation and realized that the medium of air, for them, offers an awareness of and palpable connection to the group, a collective, essentially ‘haptic’ data stream, that is similar to what fish must experience underwater.

i climbed down from the tree and looked around.  i saw a lot, heard a bit less, smelled even less, and felt very little.  the souls of my shoes impeded the vibration around me – i had been cut off from the complex,  infrasonic percolations and patterns that the tree seemed to connect me to.   i walked back through the woods and returned to the paved path, walking while thinking deeply.  within ten minutes or so was almost hit by a cyclist who was trying to pass me that i didn’t sense coming at all.  i remembered a friend telling me how hunting was meditative because hunters need to become utterly still so as not to reveal their presence.  i thought about all the layers of insulation we put on all the surfaces we interact with and how those layers are complicating so many necessary and persistent interactions.

i thought about the tsunami from a couple years ago and how the vast majority of deaths were human. from what i’ve read,  most other animals retreated from coastlines and headed for higher ground hours before the waves hit.

i went home and did some research and found out that most terrestrials use the surface of the earth as we use our vast communications systems.  elephants (Vibration as a Communication Channel: A Synopsis, Peggy S.M. Hill), for example, have what amounts to water beds on the souls of their feet that amplify the earthly rumblings.  their proboscis feature a sensitive infrasonic transducer near its’ end.  other terrestrials, frogs for example, can inflate their chests to amplify vibrations rippling across the surface.  still other species use their lower jaw to receive the same signals. i thought about how essential it is for all ectotherms (‘cold-blooded’) to be on the surface as much as possible.  birds and insects seem to be tightly coupled with their environment as fish are to water.

i thought about myself, at that moment, standing in my shoes in the woods and surrounded by sights, sounds, and scents, i felt numb.  it occurred to me that, as walkers on the surface, we’re in between crawlers and flyers – who both seem holistically integrated into the environment via sophisticated physiological attributes that allow them to ‘outsource’ much of their ‘understanding’ of the world to the world itself, and exist in a state of collaborative interdependance.  not so for us. we see the world as a collection of discrete particles and objects, and understand our experience as the intersection of these discrete components.

i remembered some research i’d done on walking, and how to build robots that walk, and how inefficient the ASIMO is, for example, and how some researchers were using passive dynamics (Steve Collins, University of Michigan) to make walking machines efficiently (no batteries required), and how one researcher wrote that our gait is, essentially, a controlled fall.  another friend, working a design job for a shoe company, shared with me the fact that higher the shoe lifts the body off the ground the greater the skeletal distress it causes.

to me, we seem alone in the otherness.  we seem cut off from the complex interactions, the array of causes and effects, that regulate and balance most life on this planet. where other tree dwellers developed tails to help them maintain balance and connection, we descended, stood up on two feet, and grew a huge frontal lobe, and have been in a controlled fall ever since.

as endotherms our senses are tightly integrated for survival.  endotherms, often hunters, need an accurate picture of their environment in order to eat.  as endotherms with huge brains and a physiological disconnection from the feedback relationships other species live in, our models of the world seem often to have the specificity of dreams or hallucinations – and are just as effective as those figments of the imagination, especially in the long term.  our  inevitable  ‘data processing’ within  our peculiar physiological system and environmental relationship contributes to this ‘otherness’ by adding what seems to be a significant delay in our interactions, causing us to value our mental model over that which is being modeled.  we are a sort of endothermic apotheosis.  a radical and extreme form of an endothermic organism.

we have evolved to this point.  and evolution is the sum of all the complex interactions that comprise this reality and is far bigger than any ‘one’. in other words, our form is just as natural as any other form on this planet, yet we are so poorly integrated and so profoundly ‘othered’, i wonder how it is that we have survived?  well, we haven’t been here for that long….

it occurred to me that we have a fixation and awareness of our own death, and from what we deduce, other species do not share this awareness.  hard to prove.  yet, given our position in this world as the dreaming, giant-brained, odd men out,  it seems fitting that we would be ‘aware’ of our own situation, and, by extension, our inevitable, demise, doesn’t it?  we are fascinated by death, we ritualize and worship it.  it occurs to me that our medical technologies, for example, designed to extend life (stall death) are actually retarding our evolution, and in doing so complicating other environmental systems.  it further occurs to me that much of our technological development tends to complicate and ultimately slow ‘things’ down by elevating levels of energy exchange in trivial developmental areas while producing significant toxic by-products that many of us are unaware of.  mechanized travel, mass-production, the internet, etc. we seem to be actively, ignorantly, and sometimes gleefully accelerating our own demise while telling ourselves that we are either headed for some profound convergence (religious, scientific, technological) or ‘simply’ doing what needs to be done to survive in this world, unaware of the real effects.

perhaps our essence is persistent, inevitable conflict.  i really mean it: inevitable, persistent conflict.  no ‘permanent’ solution is possible.  we are driven (another conflict) to manage (another conflict) every situation yet don’t have significantly detailed models  to see the real causes and effects of our actions on the environment that we are aspects of (but we have the tools to create better models.  john yau said, in the introduction to a film on donald judd, that after the a-bomb metaphor is dead, and what we need are ways to see the world as it really is.  how many of us have responded to the information age by relying on forms and rituals that fall under the category of what kurt vonnegut refers to as ‘persuasive guessing’ ?[your guess is as good as mine]).

does this seem bleak? i’ve been living with these thoughts for about three months now and my stress level has lowered significantly – and i have some ways of measuring. the connection to the all is authentic and natural; our presence and participation are inevitable.  the signal we get is just really noisy, and the interplay of my will to create mental models of ‘my’ environment coupled with the dynamism of the environment and the fact of minimal, individual influence over pretty much anything (when you, and/or your friends make bizarre decisions about something important: relationships, work, etc., ask them why they did it.  you will be surprised how often they say, honestly, ‘i don’t know‘ – i’ve been doing that all summer and it has been very interesting, it suggests to me that there is a sort of brownian emotion at work and even one’s ‘private data’ isn’t under one’s control) makes for some complex, but somehow often pleasant surfing.

clan of the avatard

my friend beth, after a 22 hour trip from delhi to baltimore, commented drowsily that while traveling through india with a friend over the past month: “we were often, in fact, avatards from secondworld”.

the past isn’t…

the discovery of a 140 year old supernova reminds me of julian barbour’s remark (can’t recall where i heard it…) concerning so-called “deep” time – the age of the earth, for example. to paraphrase he said that we know how “old” the earth is by studying rocks that exist right now.

this image, btw, is a careful composite of a 1985 radio image (blue), with a 2007 x-ray image (red) of the ‘same’ event/location.

supernova

more information

the past isn’t even past” Faulkner

design as a problematizing action, or

..a methodology for othering ourselves from the present?

Herb Simon, in Sciences of the Artificial, describes design as ‘concerned with how things ought to be – with devising artifacts to attain goals.’ Professionals, according to Simon, work to ‘transform an existing state of affairs, a problem, into a preferred state, a solution.’

Design, in any field, seeks to problematize a given moment by identifying a specific problem, and providing an artifact (an object) to solve that problem. Think about a button on a website, and all that goes into creating an atmosphere that leads one to click on that button, or a pill prescribed by a doctor, or any action undertaken to resolve a specific problem by taking a specific action that promises a resolution in the future.

The artifacts of design identify a specific problem by, essentially, contributing to an atmosphere for that specific problem to become prominent. The resolution of that specific problem suggested by the artifact (click the button, take the pill, etc.) seems to lead, inevitably, to another problem in another aspect of one’s experience, and so on. We seem to be temporally distending our lives into the past and future as we attempt to resolve the various problems we encounter at each moment, using the present as a weigh station.

Think about how often your sense of need is being stimulated, and how that sense of need seems to be only temporarily quelled by whatever actions to take.

In short, and for me, now, design seems to be a methodology for ‘othering’ ourselves from the present, and focusing our decisions within any moment towards a goal that exists in the future: design is based on an idea of ‘how things ought to be’, and is different from an exploration of ‘how things are’.

How things ought to be is a point of view that implies, and relies on, a temporal form composed of the past, present, and future, where the past leads to and influences the present, and where the present leads to and influences the future, exclusively.

How things ought to be requires clearly defined needs, and clearly defined goals, and seems to produce an individuated state of being.

Parenthetically, How things ought to be, as social policy, produces a group rife with frustrated members, whose attempts at resolving their needs simply produces more need, elsewhere.

How things are, on the other hand, requires close attention to the present, and a practice of integration of, and empathy for others’ experience – as others’ expression of their experience are essential aspects and observations of the shared space of now. The ‘goal’ of any methodology that explores the present is an increase in empathy first, and then an opportunity to consider the resulting integration second. As soon as one begins to judge, rather than work to integrate with, either one’s own or another’s expressions then one begins to see things within the context of how they ought to be. The practice of integration, evolving from a careful application of empathy, will inevitably produce unexpected results, but if one takes empathy as the primary method then the concrete results and goals are secondary. Think about it.

I’m reminded of a friend of mine who, in response to a dialectic argument, is fond of saying, usually at the moment of clearest polarity, “isn’t it both?”

To me, art making has the potential to be part and model of such a practice of integration (my previous post is concerned with this). In speaking with an artist friend who recently thought about switching galleries to help her sell more work, and then, after a frustrating meeting with the more ambitious gallerist, my friend realized that making work for pay wasn’t for her. She sells quite a bit of work, actually, but chooses not to aggressively market herself. I realized that when art becomes professional and its goals can be clearly defined and methodologies can be developed to produce repeatable results (tools and methodologies can be developed to produce specific results within specific timeframes, etc…) then the art has become an aspect of design. And that is fine, but, for me, the two exemplify differing and essential qualities of the human experience.

So, is it both? Yes, but I feel that many of us have tipped the balance, significantly, toward design (the presence of digital technology, with its emphasis on information and repeatability has accelerated this) and the result is a peculiar rush towards integration implied by the ideas of the www, but deployed via the methods of design – so that each gesture of integration is predicated on problemization, and each resulting connection inevitably becomes the next problem, and so on, so that here becomes an interface to elsewhere.

This reliance on the methodologies of design at this time, as we seem to be in a particularly integrative phase of cultural development, seems to be producing some odd cultural formations, as well as frustrating many integrative gestures, while slowing down our evolution towards a form that may be significantly different than our recent past. In order to bloom, this evolving form may require us to let go of the railing, surrender our dependence on clearly defined goals, and adopt a practice of empathy and integration that will permit us to move on collectively.

intuition and instinct as valid empirical observations

C.S. Peirce (1839-1914)

“..consider what effects, which might conceivably have practical bearings, we conceive the object of our conception to have. Then, our conception of these effects is the whole of our conception of the objects” from C.S. Peirce, How to Make Our Ideas Clear

“…he had in mind that a meaningful conception must have some experiential ‘cash value’, capable of being specified as some sort of collection of possible empirical observations under specifiable conditions. Peirce insisted that the entire meaning of a meaningful conception consisted in the totality of such specifications of possible observations.” R. Burch, Charles Sanders Peirce, in Edward N. Zalta (ed.) The Standard Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2001 Edition).

The following thoughts come to mind:

Evolution has certain mechanical aspects described as adaptation and change manifest, observed, and studied in the form of physical attributes of a given subject (a species is the most common, but it seems that other phenomena may also be subject to evolution: i.e., the laws of physics). It seems to me that another aspect, or index of our evolution can be understood as the work we do collectively to understand the aspects of our experience that are not visible in the same way skeletal remains are visible.

As we try to develop meaningful conceptions, or increasingly accurate models of our experience perhaps we must learn to accept intuition and instinct as valid, empirical observations (in addition to other empirical observations). Yes, they are understood as subjective, and don’t perform well in the abstract world of the lab, but the issue may be that they are in fact collective and are an index of the here and now distributed among a group that, to be understood, require a method for expression and sharing, and this method will differ from the methods of fact based inquiry, but, to me, it is essential that we integrate this aspect of our experience. Presently we seem to prefer to simply dismiss them as subjective noise at best, and, at worst, to stigmatize them.

What is needed, I think, is a practice that incorporates the unknown as unknown (the intuited, instinctual, etc. as such, as opposed to converting them to facts) into any empiric understanding – in other words every meaningful conception doesn’t have to be based entirely on fact.

All of us understand the world via some mixture of the known (fact) and the unknown (intuition). We need to work to create models of our experience that are more accurate in their modeling of our actual experience – as opposed to systems which operate on how we think things should be. It seems that for some, the unknown is something that is proportionally, and perhaps rightfully, eliminated with the advance of factual information. The unknown is somehow the enemy of the known. I don’t understand that at all.

The unknown is an aspect of the known – one doesn’t exist without the other, and when we marginalize the unknown, when we ‘other’ it from our discourse we unwittingly limit our potential for deeper, more accurate and useful knowledge. I would argue that when we claim that we’ve figured it all out we’ve probably figured out a way to more successfully narrow our focus and ignore more. Our current culture of expertism seems to have stigmatized the unknown. How often do you hear a professional in any field, while discussing some aspect within their purview, admit to not knowing something or simply being wrong? How often have you spoken to someone traumatized into a radically: narrow, conservative, and homogenous lifestyle by the specter of the eternal faux pas in the omnipresent, deeply archived, and imminently searchable www? I had a long talk with an eloquent student on the train last week who expressed such concerns, “it’s not worth the risk of doing anything that might come back to haunt you, because everything you do is recorded, literally.” Whoa!

I wonder if we haven’t ritualized our marginalization of the unknown in practices like the lottery. Some casual research on my part suggests that the results seem impervious to intuition, instinct, and hunch – and seem very much to be the product of ‘pure’ luck, or, in other words, randomness – which is to say when the machine happens to spit out the same numbers you’ve managed to spit out, you win, and often the winners admit to either using the same set of numbers repeatedly, or using the quickpick option. Trying to intuit your way to the lotto jackpot, in other words, seems to be ineffective and teaches, I think, that playing hunches is for fools – or, at least, not how the pros do it. I should add that it may be the case that on smaller wagers (sports, for example) instinct and hunch may be effective – it seems though, that at the larger, lotto/mega-millions level one’s hunch seems not to work. To me, this indicates that we have figured out a system that, at specific scales, seems essentially immune to meaningful, instinctual observation. I wrote, ‘at specific scales’ – the systems, like the lottery, can be observed meaningfully and intuitively, but we choose to prize (literally) the scale that we can’t feel.

The intuitive, unknown, element of the lottery is its’ meaning, significance, message, affect, in general – its’ overall quality, or suchness within our experience at large. The “what does it tell us about our society and each other?” question that is an ongoing impetus for interaction and discussion, and doesn’t resolve to a specific set of numbers. The lesson of the lottery, perhaps, is that hunch based conjectures don’t have cash or real value, and as such, don’t work, so let the machine do it…. At least that’s what I’m wondering about today, and with our computer mediated culture I’m concerned that we’re becoming a bunch of fast-paced bottom-liners increasingly disinterested in what can’t be clearly: defined, repeated, transmitted, and used.

But we need our instincts and intuition, they are an essential aspect of who and what we are.

As I just heard someone say over the radio earlier today in regard to the Iraq war, “anybody can understand with facts, this war was sold to us via facts that turned out to be wrong, and we all bought them. Where are the people with good instincts, and why haven’t we been listening to them lately?”

hearsing

Spring brings birds. Listening and watching a cardinal while waiting for a train I thought about how we (ok, I…) easily understand the song as the result of a decision the bird made to sing, an intentional act on the part of the bird that amounts to projecting sound out into the environment. The sound is an index of the bird’s will; the environment is an audience.

It occurred to me that the song of the bird could just as readily be understood as an action of the environment where its’ will is expressed by sound emitted from the bird – as if the environment elicits the song to satisfy some need of its’ own.

Maybe it’s both. Perhaps will is distributed between participant and environment, and expression is a connective gesture that we have learned to describe and understand as an event which breaks the environment into discriminate parts (imagine a bolt of lightning, an action, and an observer).

I think we tend to see expression, essentially, within a broadcast paradigm where the individual trumps and dominates an otherwise passive environment, where, in truth, the expression is a collaborative effort whose qualities (how we experience them) can be understood to reveal aspects of the persistent interrelations of elements comprising any given moment and place.

When we choose to ‘audience’ ourselves we are limiting our engagement with the present and quite probably slowing our evolving understanding of our experience and our world. When we ritualize the practice of ‘audience’ we are institutionalizing this slowing of knowledge, and quite probably becoming a collective drag on the other elements within our environment, but that may be a topic for another post.


resonance and change

Saw this message on my way to work and it reminded me of something Allison Okamura – a mechanical engineer and computer scientist with a focus on Haptics at Johns Hopkins, told me concerning the physiology of grasping and holding.

Upon taking something in hand an interesting pattern of clenching, relaxing, sensing the object slipping (via the ridges/folds on the walls of an organ called rugae, in this case the organ is our skin, the specific location the fingers and hands), then clenching and relaxing, sensing the slippage, repeat, until we no longer wish to hold on to the object any longer.

It occurs to me that much of our nervous system functions along the same line – we respond to changes in state, and if there are either no observable changes in state, or if the changes in state become either noise or a drone (a pattern of change that doesn’t vary) then we don’t notice them.

So, “it” whatever “it” is, is “there” (experienced), because it “bothers” (or calls attention to) us.

So, “it” is an experience of change, and depending on other variables “it” can be: time, love, hunger, art. “it” is a quality of change, and our bodies are dynamically and persistently linked, and a participant in, these fluctuations.

I remember reading something by Dr. John C. Lilly where he mentioned that after prolonged time in a sensory deprivation chamber subjects would emerge without a sense of their name, age, where they lived, etc., and it was only after about thirty minutes out of the tank that this information returned to them.

To me, this indicates that who and what we are is the result of a persistent coupling, a pinging, of the environment that occurs, metaphorically, with each heartbeat – as if “we” are periodically dissipated and reassembled, and the resulting self is always dependant on the fluctuations of whatever we share our space with. The probability that the majority of the dissipation/reassemblage cycles among all of the elements within our environment will have a consistent quality that we experience and express as: time, history, identity, etc… persistence = resonance, in other words, and resonance has specific qualities that we term: time, history, identity, art, love, etc. Perhaps…

The point is that some graffiti I saw on my way to work made me think that we live in a dynamic environment comprised of degrees of change whose forms and experiences seem may be based on probability and a resulting resonance.

Julian Barbour, in his book the end of time, refers to our environment as configuration space.

Decorum, Metaphors, and the Social Construction of Reality

A friend of mine’s brother, Tim, has some phobias.  One of them is about stairs and escalators.  When anxious he refuses to use them.  My friend (Bea) often asks her brother to let her know if he’s feeling uncomfortable. He seems more willing to express his phobia verbally, and in advance of encountering stairs/escalators, when they are alone together.  Surrounded by strangers, like at a mall, he seems unwilling to tell her he’s feeling anxious, choosing instead to wrestle the anxiety on his own.  He often loses these contests, and an awkward, public moment of ‘aberrant’ behavior ensues.

 This has happened enough so that Bea has been able to observe and note both Tim’s behavior/response and the public’s behavior/response.  She characterizes both as ‘crude’ and ‘awkward’.  Tim suddenly stops or pulls away from the stairs or takes a few steps and then retreats, won’t look at anyone directly (even her), and then refuses to talk about what is going on. The public, by and large, do nothing, or simply get pissed-off, scowl, occasionally mutter some things to themselves, and also avoid any conversation or dialogue (like, “are you ok?”).  Both parties seem to want to just get past the awkwardness as soon as possible while acknowledging that the experience was not acceptable, and have nothing further to do with each other.

 Bea tells me that she’d like to try to anticipate these episodes but feels like she needs more information in order to do so.

 To me, this is an side-effect of decorum (appropriate behavior) and illustrates how rules governing proper behavior have the effect of arresting our own potentials for more detailed understanding of experience.

 Tim is responding to and expressing aspects of the agora.  His actions and experience have just as much to do with him and with everyone around him, as they do with the design of the spaces where these events occur.  There is, potentially, a wealth of understandings waiting to be explored in regard to behavior and environment that might benefit a significant group of people.  Instead, we end up with seemingly pat, clumsy, and hopeless responses.  When neither Tim nor anyone else will spend any time exploring those awkward moments in situ, the events remain vaguely defined (and experienced) by grunts and grimaces, instead of understood, described and explored by nuanced language.  Language is, obviously, a major tool for sharing and learning.  When we lack the words to express ourselves accurately we tend to become individuated from the collective – segregated by our inability to share our experience and thusly disconnected from others.

 It has been said that metaphors are the tools of knowledge.  Think about how many metaphors you have at your disposal for so many aspects of your experience and how using those metaphors allows you to broaden your understanding and experience of countless aspects of your life.  Think about how your ability to express your experience is related to your ability to engage with, and connect to others; an essential aspect of the human experience.  When experience can be accurately represented it can be shared and can be a basis for mutual understanding and integration.

 Choosing to divide aspects of experience into acceptable and unacceptable (whatever that means) is one thing.   Not participating in the exploration of experience – direct, ‘real’, ‘first-hand’, experience like the episode described above, whether acceptable or not, is akin to arresting one’s (and one’s culture’s) own capability for intellectual growth and understanding.  Choosing a grunt or a scowl (or a ‘nothing’) in response to a complex public event involving another person in apparent trouble implies subservience to rules and regs over innate human empathy and curiosity.  Projecting this model forward, what sort of future do you imagine?

 We need better metaphors, and must work on developing nuanced expressions providing more accurate understandings of events and experiences we participate in to facilitate interaction with others. Such interaction inevitably fosters greater understanding and empathy, and often implies evolution and change.  The alternative is a developmental path (things change persistently, and our participation in this change has a palpable effect on the quality of our lives and on the forms our culture takes) of diminishing returns as we narrow our point of view and individuate from each other into a mash-up of misunderstood factions.

 Artists, Scientists, everyone thinks and models (as in builds things that embody key aspects of experience for the purpose of sharing and exploring them with others), and these models become discussion points that bring us closer as I, for example, find an aspect of what you’ve chosen to describe resonates with something true within me, that I haven’t been able to express, until now.

 I think about the areas of experience that I can readily discuss, and about the real but ill-defined aspects that I look forward to figuring out with you.  I imagine that if I accept whatever you express with empathy first, and judgment, if at all, later, we’re off to a decent start.

 Or maybe Tim could just medicate himself; apply a pharmaceutical on/off switch to any unacceptable behavior and smooth those rough patches, keeping us moving comfortably within a clear set of immutable parameters.