Interacting with mental constructs

Have you ever felt like someone interacts with an image or representation of you, that they’ve created and are feeding in their mind, rather than the reality of who you are? You can usually sense it while it happens, it’s often tiring, you might get uncomfortable; depending on the discrepancy between your identity and yourContinue reading “Interacting with mental constructs”

Delving into the psychology and mythology of The Lighthouse (2019) *spoilers*

The Lighthouse is a symbol, an enigma, & a transcendental mood in which an occult phenomenon seems to occur. It almost appears to be alive, in an obscure way. The Lighthouse is a portal to a world of mythology- we don’t really get to see through it clearly, everything is merely suggested, partly fictive. WeContinue reading “Delving into the psychology and mythology of The Lighthouse (2019) *spoilers*”

A poem: The ark

I dream of emerald grass,sapphire waves,idle legs shimmering on marble,crystalline laughterI miss this-Do I miss myself-this self?let’s enjoy it while it lastsbefore the tide of darkness floodsour frail worldI want a fresh view:we unfold – the tides unfoldwe walk on waterwe get to the ark-how do we lift the anchor?it’s so heavy, heavy, reflectingthe heaviness ofContinue reading “A poem: The ark”

Francesca Woodman- haunting self-portraits

Francesca Woodman’s iconic oeuvre includes staged artful self-portraits exploring the relationship between body and space and aspects of identity, featuring her often nude or semi-nude body either in motion, fragmented, collapsed or disguised, like a ghostly, elusive presence in a seemingly abandoned domestic space. The uncanny mise-en-scene includes disintegrating decor and collapsing structures, contributing toContinue reading “Francesca Woodman- haunting self-portraits”

A poem: Velvet glove

An iron hand in a velvet glove, soft veils over roots unwavering- your core, honey-mouthed- your discourse, your silence.   Within, there is the hibernating alpha-serpent, awaiting resurrections- you bathe in the light of her uttered incantations.   You spot the red flags of the dark triad, you never wave white flags, for there’s noContinue reading “A poem: Velvet glove”

The Uncanny & London Exhibitions January – March 2020

Introduction: Reflections on the Uncanny “The uncanny” is a bemusing, unsettling, strangely familiar phenomenon characterised by a feeling of disruptive eeriness and unreality piercing through the fabric of the mundane; it generates a particular type of response in one’s psyche and evokes an ineffable feeling. The uncanny generally teeters on the blurred lines between reality andContinue reading “The Uncanny & London Exhibitions January – March 2020”

Analysis: Meshes of the Afternoon (1943): a spiralling lucid nightmare, Maya Deren, & A dialogue with the Unconscious

Meshes of the Afternoon (1943) is a memorable, experimental, surreal short film directed and written by Maya Deren. Referred to as poetic psychodrama, the film was ahead of its time with its focus on depicting fragments of the unconscious mind, externalising disjointed mental processes, dreams, and potential drama through poetic cinematic re-enactments brought to lifeContinue reading “Analysis: Meshes of the Afternoon (1943): a spiralling lucid nightmare, Maya Deren, & A dialogue with the Unconscious”

A poem: Reliquaire

J’ai une vaste collection de jolis cadavres dans le placard; Je les pêche en pagayant à travers les eaux les plus profondes de la vie; Je les nourris des morceaux de mon cerveau de loin, pour dépouiller leurs os du pouvoir. Ce rare reliquaire reste immergé dans l’inconscient intact, distant, aliéné à travers des étatsContinue reading “A poem: Reliquaire”

Motionless

It’s my first time. Half of my motionless body rests inside the white, clinical, cylindrical machine, in my head resembling an intergalactic coffin. I feel an itch, but I have to resist moving. I want to cough, to sneeze, to yawn, ugh, of course, at the most inopportune moments, and I have to keep itContinue reading “Motionless”

Postmodern

Writing will always feel like a strange paradoxical venture to me because you’re supposed to curate your thoughts and words to establish an image, a style, an angle, a niche, fit into a genre, or take into account an audience, but not so much that you compromise with yourself, just enough. Doesn’t that make writing inherently inauthentic,Continue reading “Postmodern”