(This is one of those posts that take us as long to decorate as it does to write – thanks to 50watts for being there.)
Marshall McLuhan said that all technologies are extensions of man through space and time. Today we dwell on some that don’t extend us through those dimensions, but bring these dimensions inside us and allow us to know them better, in part because they fracture them, under the cracks expands an infinite cave we fill with emotion. Also with wonder at the storm of human creation, which in moments like this isn’t just indistinguishable from magic, it is magic.
I looked yesterday at the prototype of a city of glass, perhaps a metaphor for the perfect transparency & openness towards which some argue, digital technologies hurl us. It looked brittle and sad, like the future habitats of We, or the Ice Age refuges in Quintet.
It looked the opposite of Philip Glass’ magnificent Glassworks, where everything is movement and irrepressible energy, birds of fire & spiders of light spiralling & barrelling through spaces efficient like a mathematical proof.
In Rubric, they reach their epic apex, singing a saga of truth-hunters – the knights of the grail, theoretical physicists, alchemists, statisticians and psychonauts, all of them striking matches in the black fields of the cosmos.
It may be that the colder mornings necessitate its warm embrace, the serene curve of its harmonic chains, subtle like the ebbs and flows in the collective subconscious of slumbering mankind, or the gradient in the dunes of the desert of our memories, Solaris.
They act not just as buffers between the spikes of reality and the psychic softness within, but as spray that renders that reality static, a diorama leisurely spinning at the placid pace of no-bullet time.