THE FRAG MENTS FOUND
14 - 19 June 2011. The Cass 59-63 Whitechapel Highstreet E1
I find myself with a split of consciousness.
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This Windswept Land has become the filter through which I siphon my inspirations, thoughts and ideas the world created, fiction from fact. In a process of continual reference I attempt to create pathways between each concept and influence; relationships and conversations shared between them whilst I work, an underpinning of my own ideas in a context much wider than the contemporary. I had been unravelled by the concepts presented in researching the effects of time. The idea of entropy, and of the movement of all things through time on a universal level (speed and the passage of time being a relative human construction) leading me to examine each moment in its passing, but also to search for a means of reassessment. In witnessing the rush and race of ants across the forest floor in Svngsta, the upkeep of their home seemed trivial to the passing of human life in turn our own life outsized by the stars of the night sky. Mapping Perhinderion as a project has become a search not to turn back time, but an attempt to reflect on each moment as it passes the idea of latency, of delay and repetition remaining key to any and all work within the project. In a sense, I wanted to warp the timeline in creating This Windswept Land. An attempt to break the binary of our common understanding of history, developing a process of self-reference driven by entropy unraveling order to disorder. Placing alongside each other the past, present and perceived futures of what we know as Earth. With each work that has emerged throughout my initial discovery and exploration of This Windswept Land, I have spun a web of half-truths. Twisted facts from the worlds of science and fiction, like Jorge Borge in his short story Tln, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius the discovery of a realm seemingly constructed unaware throughout hundreds of years within an extended copy of the Anglo-American Cyclopedia. This gave foundation to the timelessness I wanted to make part of the ethos of This Windswept Land. Fact given to fiction, presented as fact.
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By creating This Windswept Land I have attempted to map out the innermost thoughts and secrets of my mind. Throughout, the process seemed incomprehensible to others a network of myriad connections and narratives warping between worlds both fictional and real in the construction of This Windswept Land, Perhinderion and all that it holds. The process itself then becomes an inherent part of myself, and takes on a life both within and without me. The presence of a narrative seems almost contradictory when considering the idea that the timeline as such was both fragmented and circular but it had always been my intention that the world I created be explored through literature as well as through objects. I had, since first exploring the possibilities of how my world might appear, dealt with the concept of a split reality or consciousness, of a mirrored world. From Tissemand og Tissekone and The Tree of Life I had dealt with the balance of symbols, and the power between them a search for an equilibrium between faiths and cultures. A project 2 years in the making, Mapping Perhinderion, is the first fully formed presentation of This Windswept Land to date. Using sound as my probe, I have begun to explore the acousmatic depths of The Abyss, mother of Le Mistral and the curse of Perhinderion. The loops of narrative that had woven themselves through the project had appeared as if from nowhere, their roots on the fringes of the subconscious, and constructed from fragments of fact. These actions of reprocessing, of discovery, consumption and regurgitation is what fascinates me most. The sounds uncovered, as if having lain dormant latent power and acoustics awoken in performance, entropic cycles of deconstruction: past, present and proposed future forms. As each facet of This Windswept Land is tethered to facts, so is Perhinderion connected to the Earth. Geographical specifics dominated its
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early forms, Les Alpes Maritimes giving shape and to Perhinderion,the cultural aesthetic of Provence buried deep within the project. In Mapping Perhinderion, the converted truths see factual existence once more. The map of each range acting as evidence to its reality, the colours and contours of each derived from The Tree of Life (2009). The earliest stages of This Windswept Land were based around the reprocessing and re-appropriation of knowledge, facts and figures. It is now that in its final presentation, its journey begins to turn. With sufficient evidence pre-existing, it is possible now for the process to become yet more internalized. Through self-reference, This Windswept Land takes on autonomy before unknown. I become a simple observer a translator, as it begins to build its own bridges. Bridges built by ants.
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The speed of ants, the life of dogs, the age of man, the passage of time.
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Alignment Theory 1.1
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Alignment Theory 1.2
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Fragment 1.1
The tenth sphere could be seen setting on its horizon. It was funny how the skyscape shifted each its own satellite whilst in orbit of another, never truly knowing where one might cross from one horizon to the next. I mean what was the point now that everything had been revealed? The countless feuds between the clans because of this I never really understood how they didnt see things a little more holistically, but generations of dispute generate yet more disputes. And so I sat back and watched the eon pass, eternitime being one of the few advantages of Perhinderion. Alephen oclock came and went as I ducked beneath the boughs of The Tree, to the tangle of knots and roots that served as a cover from the elements. It would be time to move on again soon, you thought and the truth could not have been closer, for as you held out for the cover of darkness the first sounds were heard The wind blew strong tonight or so it seemed as the branches above me twisted into yet another form. It seemed as though the world grew restless anxious of a fate yet to be seen. For it had been many years since Le Mistral had struck, though many remembered its visit. 100 days of eternity or so it seemed caught within the confines of your self. A seemingly forced incubation a hibernation that knew only the wind as its winter, only the wild whip of its voice to sooth your sleep each night.
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Fragment 1.2
Le Mistral coaxes me. He speaks of life that I know not, of sights I cannot see. For whilst he roams around this land, we dare not show our face for who knows where it might be taken if it were freed?
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Fragment 1.3
The canyon that is its gut, The Abyss that sucks. The Abyss that sucks in. The Abyss that stays sucking, Its The Abyss that sucked.
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Fragment 1.4
I feel its draw, the lure of The Abyss. On the wind its voice is heard how she sings through his voice siren song sets off sirens in my head. I can tell Le Mistral draws ever closer. The time to act is now, the time to look forward is passed simply concentrate on your feet and search no further than that. For this gaze of yours makes no difference to the gauging of my journey. The distances are long and the road treacherous but I fear not for myself. The route would take me straight to the mountains themselves, into the territories of The Abyss, through valley, forest and over stream I seek the signs that this journey is not in vain hope. That in vanity I might see a truer reflection of the world that stares back at me, I enter into my mind.
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Alignment Theory 1.3
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Alignment Theory 1.4
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Fragment 1.5
It is hard to imagine a beginning. Boulevard Seraphin Perrot seems as good a place as any to start from after all, was it not here that the first shards had slipped from place? No louder than the clink of glass against glass as Father poured what was to be the first of many brandies that day, they fell into the slipstream, a flow of thought so rapid that, even had the shards been noticed they were lost from sight in seconds. It must have been impossible for you to have known at the time. The impact of actions that drove you far from any place that might ever be called home, far from any thought of return. As I saw your feet pass across the stone floor and out into the bright, harsh light of that fateful winters morning, the wisps of fog that curled through the garden, rising up out from the streambed as if some smoke-like monsters tentacles. I could see it in your stride, even if you didnt see me watching. There goes my brother I thought, how I should think of you in comparison to what I see before me now!
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Alignment Theory 1.5
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This Windswept Land has become an internalized journey. A quest of unknowns and unknowables as I try to untangle the labyrinthine path through my own brain. As I made my initial preparations for this journey, I developed a series of processes, rules and limitations that began to impact upon the way in which I worked. My desire for authenticity in all that I create expanding beyond any realm of self-control until I became dictated to by my own creations trapped in a self-made safe. These processes be it measurements, construction techniques or simple ideas began to grow until they overshadowed the work itself. What once were mere mountains were now truly converted molehills. The pressure that pushed them to rise seemingly dissipating though some psychic explosion as my brain poured molten, like lava out my ears. The concept of the failed quest is one that first allowed me to begin my journey the failings of others acting as the learning curve for my own. With a fascination for the myths and stories that build cultures, faiths and religions across the globe in most you can find repeated strands, a re-telling of the same story. What grabbed me most were the stories of creation. A Tree of Life, Fountain of Youth, or Philosophers Stone it seemed that every culture, every faith (even the scientific) had their beliefs. Yet what prevailed most in each retelling was the continual failure of each to find their own. Even in todays modern society the hunt continues, a new wrinkle-defeating cream appears with each new wrinkle; silicone, plastic surgery, Botox all crammed into our bodies in a hope of staying young. Beautiful. Perhaps this is my own attempt at eternal life. Immortality lived out by the objects and stories I create as opposed to being lived by its creator.
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All contents copyright Rupert Philbrick / Whatislunar (2011)
