Ever since the publication of Freud's Three Essays on a Theory of Sexuality, we have become accustomed to thinking of affective relations in the language of capital: we invest libido in objects, thereby increasing their value but reducing our own psychic reserves.. However, whereas teems like 'investment', 'value', and 'bankruptcy' are for Freud only metaphors for the erotic, (Godard) refuses to subordinate one term to another. The economic is not merely metaphoric, but literal as well, and it not only signifies, but is signified by, the erotic. (Speaking About Godard, Silverman/Farocki, page 203,204)
This equates roughly to the feminine dimension of sensual mystique (P217). The Taj Mahal, built in memory of Mumtaz Mahal (who died in childbirth) is a monument to erotic value that signifies wealth by its sensual splendour. The sensual is an ancient attribution of wealth in the attainment of power - castles and country estates - whereas to Freud the opposite is true, and money simply signifies erotic power (usually of men.)
However, the idea that money per se signifies wealth does without the erotic as a source of primal power and wealth in itself (as in Greek gods and goddesses, natch.) This is one of the contradictions at the heart of modern capital. We seem to live on a world of distorted rhythms that have a scent of perverse sex. Jean-luc Godard in Weekend and Goodbye to Language (prev) and other films takes aim at these distortions of modernity (of head as opposed to body.)
The sensual or the fertile is something that happens naturally, and this gives it primordial power. The rhythmic writhings of the serpent. Where there is fertility, there is degradation and the fallen branches that decay are are home to myriads of bugs. From degradation springs revival, and the soil is an anchor for the fertility of the lifecycles of bird and insect.
As has already been noted, good and bad coexist, and the job of the gamekeeper is to strike the right balance between bloodshed and stability. The modern 'type' who thinks in terms of a perfect solution to natural problems is living an illusion.
The role of evil in the days of ancient civilizations is fairly common to pulp fantasy, one of the first being Francis Stephens' The Citadel of Fear.
In the story, the subversive subterranean scene of marshy rushes and prowling white wolves has a demonic fascination. It's somewhat reminiscent of Clair Noto's temple of wood and stone from Red Sonja ('Red Lace' prev.) The vegetable and the animal are crosscut and act almost symbiotically.
The evil of the blood-swollen plants in Noto, and the evil in The Citadel of Fear are somewhat akin. The fierce feasting of fertility harbours the demonic desires of a maggot inside an apple. To seek to rid the world of such happenings is simply illusory, and a denial of the body that decays. From 'happenings' comes revival, and from revival the rebellious spirit of youthful zest.
While modern science seems to specialise in gene-editing and GM crops, these are independent of the soil which is the source of all fertility in its gradually decaying humus content, water, airholes (drainage). The state of the soil can be dire, in other words. Modern gardeners are often specialists who reel-off Latin names and tidy tidbits (no offence.)
The soil is easily what could be called an articulate substance that contains the structures that enable things to become joined together; the earthworm castings (so unsightly in suburban pastures.)
That structure could be said to be symmetrical between water, air, earth and the fire (sun) needed for leaves to transpire (produce O2 in the presence of water). It's just another way of looking at it and a simpler one
It's fairly straightforward, if one just let's things happen, as Buffy Sainte-marie says of dried buffalo manure (HB70.) By leaving things be, the primordial forces of fertility and growth generally tend to produce useful products. The wild woodsman instincts revive spirit.
