DIANA MARIN

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  • New Year, New Answers to The Proust Questionnaire

    Here I go again, unfolding in Proustian style in my relentless pursuit of self-knowledge and exploration of psychic patterns and cognitive shifts. With an almost masochistic pleasure to dissect the mind, peel off layers that only I’m allowed to touch, and assimilate phantoms, the self gazes into self in a way that no one else can or even dares to do lest they be met with the manufacturing of all sorts of defences. Ok, there is always symbolism and mist (not to be confused with smoke and mirrors), as this is a public virtual space where I can design and master my surroundings for my comfort. I wonder whether there have been any significant changes since the last time I completed this. I will add a link to my answers from a few years ago at the end of this post.

    What is your idea of perfect happiness?
    I can think of endless scenarios, but regardless of the where, the what, and the when, two constant ingredients are inner peace and sanity. Beyond this, imagine shadow integration, ecstasy, bliss, aesthetic pleasures, decadent fancies and desserts, and multi-sensory stimulation. Full immersion in the moment. A less earthly and less hedonistic answer would be merging with my higher self, exploring this vast cosmos and other timelines, transcending space and time, and having an immortal nature- to annihilate my ruminations about ephemerality. Arcadian wilderness inhabited by nymphs, playful spirits, mythological figures, and other supernatural entities coexisting with sci-fi/ futuristic dreamscapes, all drowning in the smell of orange blossom trees, snowdrops, honeysuckle, and all the intoxicating fragrances one can think of. Having occult powers would be pretty entertaining. I could go on, but this answer is already too long!

    What is your greatest fear?
    Losing my mind and ending up in a private hell. Self-obliteration. Death.

    Which historical figure do you most identify with?
    Taking into account women who have had an impact in the history of literature and art, I have to say there are many women in me, even if some personalities exist as representations of thoughts that I’m unlikely to nurture and materialise. Anaïs Nin, Virginia Woolf, Dora Maar, Francesca Woodman. As for mythological characters, Persephone – I like her dual nature, because I, too, thrive in spring and rule over the underworld.

    Which living person do you most admire?
    Hélène Cixous, Irvin D. Yalom, Tilda Swinton, Chelsea Wolfe, David Lynch, Godard, Werner Herzog,…Oh, and Jung, he haunts our psyches, his presence is too relevant to not transcend death.

    What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
    None.

    What is the trait you most deplore in others?
    Malice, duplicity, gossip, hypocrisy, judging others based on a flawed system of reference, & lack of empathy. I also dislike dark triad traits, but I am somewhat fascinated by such pathologies in theory.

    What is your greatest extravagance?
    Niche and designer perfumes

    What is your favourite journey?
    Immersing myself in art is always a beautiful journey. And any other journey that involves a form of transcendence.

    What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
    For women, specifically: being nice and calm at all times, which would imply bypassing certain emotions that are deemed “unpleasant” and that have historically been attributed to “hysteria” in a disguised act of gaslighting, including emotions that are typically associated with masculinity, e.g. anger, aggressiveness. Anger emerges within you when you perceive an injustice, when some of your boundaries have been crossed. It is healthy and needs to be witnessed and integrated, rather than silenced.

    Other overrated virtues are humility / humbleness, moderation, and submissiveness / obedience. Women are especially conditioned to adopt these traits in order to fit into society and not fall out of line. Be disruptive in this respect. You can draw your own lines, teeter on them in high heels, and erase and redraw them whenever you want. If you’re perceptive and self-aware, you’ll be able to tell the difference between self-love and arrogance.

    On what occasion do you lie?
    When I don’t want to risk hurting someone I care about, I might omit a part of the truth as long as I believe the omission wouldn’t ultimately create more distress.

    Which living person do you most despise?
    I don’t think I despise one person in particular. With the risk of stating the obvious and repeating what I’ve mentioned in the previous answer about what I deplore in others, I am repulsed by anyone who lacks empathy and commits acts of (emotional or physical) abuse against others.

    Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
    C’est la vie. That’s a lie, it’s probably something even more cliched than that.

    What is your greatest regret?
    Not exploring more and experimenting and actively pursuing my most ardent dreams earlier.

    What or who is the greatest love of your life?
    Film, most other forms of art, and fragrances.

    When and where were you happiest?
    Probably whenever I experienced “aesthetic chills”! Other than that, it’s been too long since I’ve felt any fluctuations or significant spikes in my emotional state, so – I don’t remember!

    Which talent would you most like to have?
    Excelling in any field I would like to delve into. Erasing certain thoughts before they reach neurotic levels. An impressive vocal range. And the knowledge needed to find a way to prevent senescence forever.

    What is your current state of mind?
    Reflective. Concerned with future endeavours. I feel like I’m in a liminal state, holding onto the hope that the world will shift and feel more real and less dystopian again. At the same time, certain events from 2020/1 that generated temporary glitches ultimately made me feel more appreciative of and grateful for moments of peace.

    If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
    Mastering the art of selective caring. Raising my creative powers to unreal levels and expanding into other fields of creation.

    What do you consider your greatest achievement?
    I feel it hasn’t happened yet; I will achieve grandeur and fulfil my vision in the future.

    If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
    A goddess.

    What is your most treasured possession?
    My perfume collection and technological devices, because I’m constantly fragrant and wired.

    What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
    A descent into sinister madness or suffering.

    Where would you like to live?
    In a place where pandemics don’t happen. Other applicable answers: in a cyberpunk world on a technologically ultra-advanced planet. The places that currently resonate with my personality type and interests, however, are London and probably NYC. (Tokyo and Venice as well, if there were no linguistic barriers or impediments of another nature)

    What is your favourite occupation?
    Immersing myself in art. Daydreaming and deriving vicarious pleasure from the adventures of fictional characters. Sublimating thoughts through poetry. Identifying behavioural and mental patterns. Spotting cognitive biases in others. Appreciating nature and cityscapes.

    What is your most marked characteristic?
    Perceptiveness. Creativity- especially when it comes to creating intricate stories about people I don’t know and being disappointed when their true self doesn’t align with my idealised projection of them. Self-awareness. Intuition. Constantly trying to reconcile the self that wants to connect with the self that wants to detach, conceal, wear disguises, and have privacy. A sense of elusiveness. Having regenerative powers. And an exquisite taste in film and music, if I say so myself.

    What is the quality you most like in a man?
    Intellect, confidence, imagination, empathy, depth, openness, and a willingness to step into my inner world. Inner tranquility & stoicism that are disrupted by moments of fiery passion connected to subjects that genuinely matter to them. Having a superior olfactory sense, but not taking themselves too seriously all the time because of it!

    What is the quality you most like in a woman?
    Same as above.

    What do you most value in your friends?
    A kind and understanding nature. Trust. Depth. Caring about me. Embodying safety.

    Who are your favourite writers?
    Angela Carter, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Anaïs Nin, Anne Sexton, Mary Oliver, Hélène Cixous, Oscar Wilde, Kafka, Nabokov, Mircea Eliade. Freud and Jung. Andrei Tarkovsky and Ingmar Bergman. Sylvia Plath. Virginia Woolf.

    Who is your favourite hero of fiction?
    Jean des Esseintes. Morgan Le Fay, Carmilla, Dorian Gray, The Countess from AHS

    What do you dislike most about your appearance?
    Pass

    Who are your heroes in real life?
    Angels, poets, and people who have not only overcome mental illness, they’ve also channelled it into their creative work

    What are your favourite names?
    Morgana, Dionysus, Osiris, Narcissa, Mnemosyne

    What is it that you most dislike?
    Same answer I gave to the question “What do you deplore the most in others?”. I also dislike unpredictability, unless I’m responsible for it, and unwarranted advice.

    How would you like to die?
    Since I’ve never reconciled myself with our ephemeral nature (and will probably never do so), this question is oxymoronic and dreadful! I want to live forever – I would only ever “like” to die if I believed in the afterlife, and in that case I wouldn’t care how as long as it wasn’t painful.

    What is your favourite motto?
    Your interpretation of me isn’t who I am.
    Underestimate me and perish.
    Do just once what others say you can’t do, and you will never pay attention to their limitations ever again.

    Other mottos via quotes:

    “Abnormal pleasures kill the taste for normal ones.” — Henry & June (1990)
    “I am rooted, but I flow.” — Virginia Woolf
    “Find out what makes you kinder, what opens you up and brings out the most loving, generous, and unafraid version of you—and go after those things as if nothing else matters. Because, actually, nothing else does.” ― George Saunders
    “Do I contradict myself?
    Very well then I contradict myself,
    (I am large, I contain multitudes.)” — Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”
    “We will become our opposite if we do not learn to accommodate the opposition within us.” — C. G. Jung
    “I believe in deeply ordered chaos.” — Francis Bacon
    “Listen: I always return to myself.” — Vesna Parun, tr. by Vasa D. Mihailovich
    “Nostalgia is a seductive liar.”
    “A Woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretence and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.” — Maya Angelou
    “I refuse to live in the ordinary world, to enter ordinary relationships. I am a neurotic—in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.” — Anaïs Nin

    Here is the link to my answers from the past.

  • Rite of passage

    the texture of hell can seep through a broken mind,
    but its lingering echoes will leave a mark
    looking ahead, I see parks filled with disease,
    a small, kaleidoscopic winter coat wrapped around
    a phantasmal presence that screams:
    I am Home-
    I am a haunted home
    where it rains.


    her hand reaches out to
    wipe the morning dew
    off a snowdrop lost
    in the glittering white-
    a mystical anachronism


    I look at her with a half-smile;
    as if sensing it, she turns around,
    mirroring me-
    meanwhile,
    the world is disintegrating
    in secrecy


    an ethereal cage descends to envelop us;
    a moment cannot define an entire existence
    unless it echoes
    its beginning and its end
    our fate and lips are sealed
    it’s more than a folie à deux
    bred in liminality


    a pact between blue hedonism
    and dazzling dissimulation
    clears the way forward-
    some voices may forever
    be confined within
    yet the dreams ascend.


  • Art is heightened life

    I’m convinced that, at some point, everyone has left the cinema or an art show feeling more whimsical than usual, or perhaps wiser, or revitalised. What I would like to know is how many times you have been moved, truly moved- on a soul level, by a film, a painting, an art installation. After watching or experiencing a piece of art*, have you ever felt that it impacted you so profoundly, it was almost like you reached a higher state of consciousness? It’s more than an “aesthetic experience.” This is the magical power of art.

    What about the process of creating art? Have you ever sensed a creative force breathing new life into you, into everything (re-shaping your perception of the world)? This is the godlike power of art and creativity.

    I would like to hear about your unique experiences with this! How has art (and a specific art piece) changed your life, to what degree, and for how long?

    As paradoxical as it sounds, art can make you connect with your self, your higher self, as well as giving you the chance to detach from your self-concept and see the world through someone else’s eyes, explore new territories, new experiences, making you feel like you belong, like you are a miraculous, integral part of this universe. This inner journey ultimately brings you closer to your higher self, a self that feels more authentic than the one that is founded on projections of the ego. Hence why there is no paradox, actually. In such moments of exquisite rapture, your existence is enriched with inherent meaning. By running away, “escaping” life as you know it (perhaps dimmed by routine and other ordinary but potentially soul-crushing aspects) you transcend your limiting self-constructs and beliefs and you arrive closer to your higher Self.

    *For the record, when I talk about “art” in this post I am referring to the broader -and most valid- definition of art, which encompasses literature and film – the latter being the highest art form in my view.

  • November light

    Dark November, darling November,
    my birth month, a glorified time
    of contradictions,
    of re-emergence from dreams,
    wearing adornments
    and smiles of
    miss “seen it all, heard it all”
    Scorpio depth,
    shrewd intuition,
    and inner power-
    It’s nature and nurture
    even when the nurturing is done
    in a glass castle
    it is said that art is life intensified,
    heightened experience
    is this what it was, an artistic process?
    all-consuming, delving deeply into
    my life force, the closest I’ve ever got
    to a spiritual experience,
    however demonic,
    in all its ambiguity and uncertainty-
    was it but a psyche glitch?
    is that what it takes, a cognitive distortion,
    to erode the pillars holding up
    a self-concept, a world,
    in a most magical way-
    heaven knows no human could do it-
    aren’t most, if not all spiritual beliefs
    a coping mechanism against
    cosmic futility?
    Here I am, inevitably returning
    to the eternal question
    that injects everything I do and feel;
    Surrendering to Phoenix wisdom-
    with my Eagle’s eyes,
    fresh perspectives materialising
    from the flames of the opposites
    inner chaos leads to stillness
    leads to outward ascension
    from a special hell-
    the tension of the opposites
    within;
    oblivion is laced with sweetness
    it’s a universal truth: life is escapism,
    just like wearing a tiara on your birthday
    to forget about the flow of time
    Although shifting from limbo
    to a personal dystopian hellscape
    and then into whatever followed
    (labels have become frivolous)
    has made me revere time,
    realise I’ve had a coddled existence
    for the most part
    You can’t write words revealing
    you are convinced of
    your innate grandeur anymore,
    without being deemed narcissistic
    A good night kiss bearing all
    the gentleness and sacredness
    of a celestial being
    should be a tell-tale sign
    that it’s not pathological
    but it’s hard to understand
    a moment of uncanny ecstasy,
    an awakening, how deeply moved
    a sceptic can be, on a soul level.
    Pour your life source into me
    and lift me up
    I am trying to be authentic
    but I am not estranged from
    the light and darkness of ego
    something tells me ego
    has shaped you in my mind, too
    Whether external forces were at play
    or you are just a part of me,
    I have to say
    thank you and
    no, thank you.

  • Resurrections of renowned artworks

    Here are a few examples of more or less obscure (this is why Loving Vincent is not on this list) representations and recreations of famous artworks through fine art photography, film, animations, and video installations.

    In Derek Jarman’s stylised historical drama shot in 35mm film, Caravaggio (1986), the director creates an engrossing, dreamlike fictionalised account of Caravaggio’s life in keeping with his painting style, conceptual themes, and mixture of the sacred with the profane, whilst adding anachronistic elements which endow the enrapturing depictions with an eternal quality and emphasise Jarman’s artistic identification. The film evocatively depicts the creative tension of reconfiguring the emotional experience of reality through an artistic lens. As a controversial creative soul with a deviant personality, a propensity for transgressions, a significant personal focus on sexuality, and inclination towards the profane, Jarman felt a kinship with the Italian Baroque artist. The film recreates Caravaggio’s paintings, with some memorable shots depicting Tilda Swinton as Penitent Magdalene and in the “Death of the Virgin”, Dexter Fletcher who plays the young artist appears as Bacchus and in a moving cinematic adaptation of “Boy with a Basket of Fruit”. Other striking recreations are of “Saint Jerome Writing”, “The Musicians”, and “The Entombment of Christ”.

    Too unusual and inaccessible to fall into the mainstream, yet not exhibiting those traits to a qualifying degree to be welcome by the avant-garde, Jarman’s filmography is characterised by ambiguity-occupying a liminal position between radical and traditional labels. Caravaggio (1986) is one of his less experimental films, as well as being the film debut of Tilda Swinton and Sean Bean, both of whom deliver beautiful performances.

    Speaking of bringing Caravaggio to life (although some have argued the opposite effect is achieved), Rino Stefano Tagliafierro, an Italian film director and video artist, creates experimental animations of masterpieces, including uncanny movements and gestures of figures we are used to admiring in static images, incorporated in eerie artistic videos representing reflections on beauty, as well as in multimedia live performances and video installations inspired by artists including Caravaggio, Hieronymus Bosch, Waterhouse, William-Adolphe Bouguereau, and more. The main criticism directed at Tagliafierro for his video “Beauty” revolved around whether it unintentionally constitutes a blasphemy rather than a tribute, which was the conscious purpose for it.

    I am biased here because I appreciate atmospheric videos, especially when the atmosphere is both ethereal and sinister, but from what I have seen, the videos are just a brief, aesthetic distraction.

    Richard Tuschman’s alluring, evocative photographs from his series “Hopper Meditations” resonate with quarantine moods, capturing the alienation, the quiet longing for something unknown, and the uncanny intimacy of Hopper’s iconic paintings. In domestic settings tinged with melancholy, characters are visibly introspective- their expressions are frozen in enigmatic moments of unknown contemplation. Even when they are not alone, there is a sense of disconnection and an unspoken distance between them. The characters inhabit the landscapes of their minds, whilst also being physically distant. The cinematic nature of the photographs, the element of suspense, the subtle voyeurism, and the consistent window-gazing acts resurrect the atmosphere characterising Hitchcock’s films and Gregory Crewdson’s photography.

    Inge Prader resurrects the enthralling aesthetic decadence of Gustav Klimt’s iconic symbolist paintings from his Golden Phase, re-interpreting them through a high-end fashion lens. Inge Prader’s stunning photography depicts lavishly decorated scenes of sparkling sensuality, featuring models in theatrical poses filled with grace and fragility.

    Prader recreates specific paintings by Klimt and the outcome is undeniably striking, impressive, aesthetically pleasing, and refreshing, no matter what your views about re-staging masterpieces might be.

  • Immersion. Expansion. Reverie.

    Having decided to embrace the unknown, we take confident steps forward, aware of our part in the greater design. Scent of ritual, sight of stars, and a refreshing breeze that revives us. The atmosphere takes us out of our formerly stagnant, limiting state. Everything is aligned perfectly. We are here for a purpose. We are here to forget some things and remember others. We are here to let go. To accept. To integrate. To be. Piercing eyes are not invasive here. Each soulful gaze feels like home. I can see myself in them. I am a vital part of something special and I can feel its grandeur, yet my core is still untouched, consistent. My focus is selective, the concept of pain is utterly nonsensical here- a faraway notion, neurosis removed, as each step gets me closer to a perception that I would have previously described as godlike. Pieces of narratives overlap, discourse becomes unnecessary. The power I could only vaguely fantasise about and partially conceive of before, becomes reality. In a total paradigm shift, the peaceful, blissful nature of an uncorrupted, spiritual power supersedes previous understandings of power, as it’s no longer conceived by a self that’s trapped in the temptation of existential nihilism or materialism or restricted by the limitations of an ego held captive by negative attachments.

    There is a sense of complete, beautiful harmony between body and spirit, as well as a liberating, soothing awareness that we are more than embodied selves. Yet we choose to experience our surroundings by inhabiting a body, even in this realm. Still, we have the power to make that choice, so we are now no longer confined to experiencing reality in merely one plane of existence, as consciousness merges with wholeness, with our eternal higher selves. We no longer process the world merely through our brains, on a physical level. I had a glimpse of this state before on a conceptual level, but back then I wasn’t fully in control, or at least the part I identified with and had access to wasn’t, and I felt pulled towards that state, perceived in a fragmented way.

    Back then, I recall it also felt like there was another presence inside me, a godlike presence I was having an inner dialogue with. I remember wondering– Is this God? The Devil? Someone from another world? Or am I a Goddess temporarily stuck in a human body with only a piece of my divine consciousness? (I used to identify as an agnostic with atheist tendencies) I couldn’t really tell if that presence was me, or something separate. It felt like something external, an ‘Other’, but at the same time like there was something of my self within this uncanny Other. We were communicating in a weird “language”. Through vibrations within. The presence was asking me or telling me something telepathically and if I resonated with what was said I would feel a sense of euphoria. Was that an unconscious mind process echoing religious beliefs I had drifted away from? The episode happened during an otherwise dark chapter of my life; For a long time, I have repressed it and avoided revisiting it because of the darkness associated with that time and because I needed to move on as I just wanted peace of mind. In an instance of curious chronological symmetry, towards the end of the same challenging life chapter, I had another episode involving an agonising amount of inexplicable physical pain. Ecstasy and agony. Like something entered me and a few months later it was purged.

    The doom and the gloom were perhaps aspects of a fragmented psyche, the experience itself couldn’t be separated from these haunting states of mind, since I experienced all of that through the filter of my consciousness. I attributed the experience to a fleeting disturbance in my brain, a glitch in the matrix of my otherwise sane mind, rather than one in the fabric of the universe as I knew it, because of my agnostic beliefs and because I couldn’t pinpoint the nature of it; yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it, hoping (and partly fearing) it had a greater connotation. Once the darkness no longer had power over me and I could remove it from my psyche, I redefined the experience, attributing a different meaning to it. I removed the absurd beliefs that were just echoes of trauma and I kept the mystical side in the hope that it was a first step towards experiencing spiritual awakening, an insight not solely generated by a deluded mind, rather a deeper truth about what it means to be human and about my journey. Because let me tell you, an agnostic leaning towards atheism does not feel at peace, especially when they are ego-led.

    By integrating the experience, I became more open to the mystery of existence, and implicitly to the possibility that consciousness can persist independently of the brain- a view that was a cure to my ontological obsession and to the despair brought by thoughts about death. Of course, I still had doubts eating away at my newly found existential relief: Was my experience a sign of shifting towards a higher level of awareness or did it not carry any more truth than some pathological psychotic state? And, more importantly, was I simply replacing one religious framework supporting the idea of a make-believe world beyond our brief life on Earth (that I was skeptical about) with a different belief supporting the same idea, but a refined, more acceptable version, anchored in eastern spirituality? Was I still ego-led, refuting at all costs the idea that there is no grand scheme of things or that humans are insignificant in the grand scheme if there is one (for me, existential transience implied insignificance no matter how accomplished or meaningful one felt their existence on Earth was; in fact, the more relevant and interesting someone was in life, the stronger I felt the tragedy of the fleeting nature of human life) leading a transient life on a floating planet- a wonderful planet that is, however, just a small piece among myriads of pieces making up the cosmos? The cosmos and the exact nature of our consciousness may indeed have been a mystery, but potentially nothing more than a result of a series of lucky accidents of physics? After all, to take a moral stance, there was so much suffering in our world, in this small piece of the puzzling cosmos. Could all that suffering ever really be part of a bigger plan? Could those horrifying people who moved away from kindness, towards sinister acts of inflicting pain on others ever be an extension of something as beautiful and awe-inspiring as the Source or oneness?

    Still, I had a sense of self-importance, which had always been unshakeable, even in my most nihilistic state. This had to transition into the realm of spirituality. Yet even when I became interested in spirituality, most of my beliefs were still anchored in science. I was still inclined to believe I was in control of most of the things happening in my life and the rest of the events were random rather than predestined or under divine control. Considering my glimpse into a higher self, I had to wonder: did that self have any power to influence what was happening in my current life, at any time? Could she act as a guardian angel? Or was it just that one ambiguous, interpretable intervention? I was on a quest, seeking a system of mystical esoteric beliefs that could meaningfully co-exist with science and make sense to me. At the same time, seeking to experience something extraordinary, “otherworldly” that didn’t “make sense” or only made sense from a spiritual perspective.

  • The New World

    With each brush stroke, she renders her exquisite features in an exceptional manner that only her unnatural talent can achieve, seemingly managing to capture both her celestial beauty and intoxicating essence. Willow’s hypnotic gaze and entrancing expressiveness always inspired and fascinated the artist. Their special painting sessions suspend time; paradoxically, although this is an outdated activity borrowed from the Old World, in the New World it’s one of the aspects which projects them in an almost nirvanic state. During such moments of transcendence, their connection is so intense that Luna forgets everything about her existential crisis and the experimental nature of their simulated environment.

    For a split second, she thinks she sees the trace of a wrinkle on her model’s face. She blinks and it’s gone. She smiles in relief, despite acknowledging her mind has been playing small uncanny tricks on her lately. This often used to happen in the Old World, so it’s almost nostalgic. She looks at Willow and wonders what it’s like to be created in the New World, with no recollection of other times and with restrictions in experiencing implanted memories. She can’t imagine existing without the previous versions of herself and her own memories. Perhaps she would be more at peace, but she would lose herself entirely. Luna is one of the few inhabitants of the New World who has a personal history spanning over such different chapters in human advancement and ontological posthumanism.

    When she reminisces about the Old World, there are flashbacks of her spending most of her days daydreaming about immortality. Unlike most of the people around her who were preoccupied with mundane things which distracted their attention from the fact that the end vibrated within every human being, for her it was a consuming obsession. She felt that everyone around her was in a state of delusional denial; in her case, even during moments of human happiness and fulfilment, there was always the underlying thought of the transience of everything. She was depressed over any sign of ageing. Situations that made other people feel nothing but happiness, such as extended family meetings, made her initially happy but often depressed because of the fragility of life. She felt pretty alienated in her concerns, as others around her held beliefs in ethereal notions of the spirit. Although at that point, the world had gone through the first shift, thus being populated by enhanced biological brains and bodies that significantly slowed down the process of ageing and magnified original human capabilities, it was still ephemeral. Years later, after the Whole Brain Emulation process, she was over the moon. At first. She awakened, after all, still feeling like herself- an enhanced version of herself, of course, but the essence was there. She had been extremely worried that the uploading process would go terribly wrong and she would end up in extreme pain or simply erased. Her joy after finding out her WBE was successful was amplified beyond human levels. As promised, her senses, cognitive abilities, talent, and pleasure were enhanced. Later on, with her artistic skills and advanced knowledge of neuroscience and AGI research, she designed Willow’s physical appearance and mental configuration. They explored the wonders of the New World together. However, a secret kept haunting her. Luna concealed an important aspect regarding the creation of Willow […]

  • Characters’ psychology

    Both inspired by and afraid of her ineffable power to rise again and again, ever stronger, and pierce the essence of everything, he doesn’t know what he feels. She is wonderful. She is terrifying. She gives the impression that she is slightly aware of it, but not in a conceited way. In a playful way. In a way that makes you see the world as wonderful and terrifying. She is wild. She can’t be tamed. She has a rich, specific belief system, and yet she never wastes an opportunity to explore and gain new insights. It’s a rare occurrence for her to consistently dream about another person, but when she does, it can get pretty intense. And it must mean the other person is wonderful too. And yet she doesn’t want another person to become her world. Her world is thrilling, mostly safe but occasionally dangerous, fluctuating between periods of unpredictability and order. She is not necessarily a thrill-seeker, but a huntress of good feelings and of the sublime, the marvellous, the ethereal, with a relentless desire to feel alive. She likes being in control and having freedom. Her resplendent mind transcends boundaries. Her defining characteristics are creativity and a natural inclination towards divergent thinking. As we know, there are both advantages and disadvantages to this, just like everything else. Whilst brainstorming, coming up with a myriad of ideas and generating stimulating thoughts is highly desirable, her tendencies also make it difficult to have a structure in life, to focus on one thing at a time. A successful project requires you to eventually switch to convergent thinking, to stick to a strategy. Her inner life is a film with a non-linear narrative. He is different, in this sense, there is a promising duality between them. Since they play in different films, there is no way to tell if their narratives can harmoniously intertwine. Time will tell.

  • Not I

    “Not I”, Samuel Beckett, 1972.

    The character from “Not I”, Mouth, is a fragmentary woman whose neurotic speech is rapid, incoherent, and disruptive. She tells us about her loveless, emotionless past, reminiscing about how she led a dull uneventful life until a significant moment in April. This is one of the few moments in the play when there seems to be a glimmer of hope for her, a way to define her identity. If we think of T. S. Eliott’s “The Waste Land”, April is a month of regeneration- “breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire.” Mouth had lived her entire life in a wintry state of silence, anhedonia, and inertia and this special, obscure moment in April generated her uncharacteristic discourse. There are many possible interpretations for the play- Absurdists tend to only create the flame to encourage us to find our own way in the darkness. The spectator can speculate on her state as being a bleak conception of the afterlife- She seems to be in a purgatorial state, awaiting her judgment. The character- referred to as Mouth- can also be seen as an actress with an identity crisis. Some elements are reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman’s film, Persona (1966), which also deals with bleakness, neurosis, and death.

    The writer of the Theatre of the Absurd is usually someone entrapped in their own inner world, trying to express existential anxieties in a congruent form. The plays move away from mirroring society personas toward portraying the nonsensical nature of human existence. Whilst existentialists approach the same theme in a philosophical, logical, and complex way, absurdists believe that the devaluation of language is essential to depict the absurdity of life. Words are insufficient and sometimes unnecessary, which is one of the reasons why Beckett often preferred silence to conversation, in his interactions with James Joyce in Paris: “They engaged in conversations which consisted often in silence directed towards each other, both suffused with sadness, Beckett mostly for the world, Joyce mostly for himself.” The two artists share the same existential anguish and that Baudelairean view of the modern world as an age of the ephemeral and the contingent.

  • Her Rebirth

    Haunted by Ophelia’s phantom,
    enraptured by vernal murmurs,
    she succumbs to dreaminess
    lost in the stream
    of consciousness
    carried away by Woolf’s whispers
    and echoes of myth from
    a scent of white Narcissus-
    fluid nostalgia in full bloom-
    she remembers her touch
    before the plunge;
    the sacred memory shatters
    underwater-
    her pale skin resurfaces-
    she is beaming;
    her alter ego withers
    underwater
    Nature witnesses
    an act of self-love.