Nicola Hattingh

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THE IMAGINARIUM OF DISEARTHLY ENLIGHTS

I am looking for something.

And so, we must be swept through the phantasmagoria of metaphor. Here and there it is of the elsewhere that beckons to the minds eyes. It is of the great quest for something, anything, all things more than what is or could be. Somewhere in the improbability of infinite potential, the bubbling of the primordial soup, the shorelines of the intangible. It is found in the desublimation of all things ending and it is lost in our desire for comprehension. For you to see it, it had to perish. In this decomposition it is born anew but, missing-formation, the misinformation leaves it always less than what it could be. It is of the undoing, the no-things that come to completion in the misinterpretations of objectdom. It is Athmantine. It is the state of mind required to access this liminal lens of perception. It is an enchantment.  It is the permeating consciousness that dips you in confusion so that you might glimpse, from the edge of rationality and sanity, into the other space.

The outer space.

The infinitely more.

A declaration of being.

In 2 parts in many parts.

We were after a pattern, a collection of recognition that was to synthesise the kind of perceptual lens that might allow us entrance into both the subconscious within and that which surrounds.

We write this in testament to The Process and to The Unknown, noting that we probably definitely hold a place in The Great Order of Things, knowing that we probably definitely will fail to notice our finding of It.

The Plan knew that in order to find both the key and the keyhole, it would have to forget itself. Any formalisation of structure was to dissolve, away from form and function, to allow The Unplanned a chance to convince The Self of the potential It holds.

We worry that there is no one left to recognise It. We acknowledge our intermittent ability to recognise It.