It’s a vital
theme for science fiction, because the singularity point of a black hole is a
ready-made point for suspension of disbelief. The laws of physics can’t tell us
what is or isn’t there, so it’s a space for the crazy and the sublime. (Juliet Samuel, DT)
Samuel’s
commentary on the algorithmic image (prev.) seems to make the case that a fact
becomes a fiction, an object that is very far away with no physical substance
on Earth. The object is a very long range perspective view (via parallax of Earth’s
position, natch); however, physical substance and psyche are independent of
distance and you can see this in artists’ styles.
Hyborian
Bridge 21 took as an
example the final page of Conan #15, the sorcerer from Zukala’s
Daughter holding his tragic heroine as Conan bids adieu
(c) Marvel 1970
Physical
substance is proportionate reality (style) – the horse, the figures and
surroundings. Psyche is what meaning one gets from the gestures, symbols,
composition and, as I said, the abundance of detail is largely independent of
perspective.
Proportionate
reality is just what things are as you observe them – birds that fly, stars or
planets in the night sky. One is not encumbered by “facts”, such as “they are
competing”. All one sees is they are hunting or scavenging for prey of carrion.
Similarly, when
one is not encumbered by facts, such as “this is a supermassive black hole”,
what one sees is something lewd. In a way, this is a human imagination, unless
the universe has a symmetrical status analogous to a living thing (which is not
seen in the perspective illusion).
Again, your
guess is as good as mine, but that’s because we are no longer dealing in
“facts” (of a perspective reality); we are dealing in physical substance
(proportion) and psyche (narrative content).
One has to make
a choice in a situation where there are myriad facts but no myths. Man makes
myths and they give him strength. Which takes us back to Conan the
Conqueror.
She shook her
head. “I am but an oracle, through whose lips the gods speak. My lips are
sealed by them lest I speak too much. You must find the heart of your kingdom.
I can say no more. My lips are opened and sealed by the gods.” (page 71)
So speaks
Zelata, witch-woman of high crannies, the grey timber wolf ever by her side,
who tells the vagabond king her visions are strictly limited by the “powers
that be”, in this case the spirits of magic and the runes.
This makes me
think that destiny is a mysterious thing, and one cannot pre-empt it or do any
more than give sidereal hints on the chosen route. This is pretty much the
opposite of science, which has an a-priori order (the sun) that casts
aside from the outset such things as destiny and the ambiguous symmetry of
events.
Whereas the
reality Zelata can pierce, through the veil, is figurative and dreamlike, the
reality scientists pierce is crystal clear but without the figurative dream
(fact equals fiction).
Put another way;
while Zelata sleeps to gain understanding of her dreams, Katie Bouman (prev)
sleeps with her algorithms! It’s a type of psychotic hygiene which is trapped
in a logical order (of the sun, perspective vision). They are not able to see
figures of the universe that have physical substance – moon versus sun – or
psychic narrative (constellations, myth).
These are the
exact things which Zelata is bound to perceive in her dreamquest. Howard’s
fantasies very clearly inhabit an absolute universe of moon, stars and golden
dawns (Earth’s rotation). This is the figurative world of Man the hunter who
lusts, who tallies with womanhood.
It is the world
of symmetrical status where the body is lewd as well as loud. It is the world
of Greek tragedy and comedy, of psyche and physical substance. This seems like
I’m aiming high for Howard, who disdained the classics, but it is more like placing
algorithmic complexity at a much lower order (than Howard or the classics!)
Because, without
lewdness and without psyche, there are only facts which are the equivalent of
fictions. Without figuration the universe is essentially meaningless. The a-priori
order of science abhors figuration and any meaning other than the purely
factual.
Yes, but that’s
another way of saying science doesn’t deal in physical substance and psyche –
it increasingly deals in algorithms. It therefore can’t perceive a symmetry of
figuration that is actually blatantly obvious (Artemis and Apollo – see BWS).
It can’t perceive anything that is lewd – in other words, that has symmetrical
status like living things.
It can only perceive the universe as an inert
machine, not a meaningful creation that is our home.
The Greek for home is Oikos (in a communal setting natch)
From which we
get “ecology”. You may recall Drama3 was talking about Detroit? Here’s a
quote from Conan the Conqueror, as Conan enters Tarantia incognito
Not a long distance
from it, lost in a tangle of partly deserted tenements and warehouses, stood an
ancient watchtower, so old and forgotten that it did not appear on the maps of
the city for a hundred years back. (page
82)
This sense that
when places and cities and buildings are left to their own devices they develop
an almost primeval “thingness” I think connects with the quote from The
House of Elrig (Pictorial 43) where he is entering a fetid grassland
near the school grounds. Oikos is a livable place,and the meaning in Greek is
fairly vague, in fact much more like our word ecology (from oikos
natch). If you think that in Greek times the universe was figurative – and
animalistic – then it’s almost true to say that the entire ecosphere was oikos
as it connected to the Greek citizen.
In any event, a
wood is a good place to live, and we know Greek temples were originally wooden
(as was Stonehenge Woodhenge once). A wood is a place for bacchanalian rites in
groves and grottoes of faerie. An area where decay is underfoot and which
strengthens the living system. Falling leaves are actually plentiful habitats
for bugs (leaves contain lignin, or similar polypeptides to wood, that
sculpture the decaying forms)
A gleam among
the dead leaves that carpeted the ground caught Conan’s eye. It was his
broadsword, lying where he had dropped it when his horse fell, reflecting the
rays of the moon. (page
116)
rundown neighbourhood dwelling
Because we (or
“they”) live in a hygienic order (perspective, sun) that has no physical
substance or psyche, we (or “they”) fail to see that a living system must decay
in order to be healthy. This relates to various things, like Gates’
hygienic-toilet (Hyborian Bridge 31) or intensive beef lots (Pictorial
44).
In a general
way, though, it relates to Oikos, to buildings that are old or semi-derelict in
the bosom of mother Earth. I am thinking of more examples from pulplore;
there’s the timber frame of BWS’s splash to Conan #24 (Hyborian Bridge 38.) In Nyoka,
the Tauregs live in cliffside burrowings that almost have the look of termite
colonies. There’s Zelata’s cliffside stone dwelling high on a gorge; in Countryman
(film) the witch doctor’s highland dwelling is somewhat similar.
In Nyoka again, the African tribal village has the stereotypical patina of grass/reed
roofs, snakeskin hangings etc. The wider picture, though, is that buildings or
places that are left to their own devices develop “thingness”, an irregularity,
a patina, a shady grove that has the strength of decadence (see Hyborian
Bridge 16). Notre Dame, for that matter.
