printers models for 3d-laser printing

but they make their own world here, they've come home

they've come from here - go to
and click on printer01.png - to printer.20.png - they're all there

tags: pain, artifice, virtual, worlds, wounded, dead, aroused, gone

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On Being Dead / On My Deadwork / My Work is Dead

Deadwork is invisible work; deadwork is virtual work. When there is
nothing but the image and the memory of the image, there is deadwork. When
the producing tribe cannot read, can only reinterpret, there is deadwork.
Deadwork does not enter the cycle of capital; it no longer exists; it
never has existed. Deadwork is deadly work; it is the death of the
producing culture. The culture knows it. The culture is ready for its

My work is dead. It is not spoken. It is invisible in the building at
Eyebeam and disappears as a future anterior online. In the space, it
huddles. In the space it hides in cracks in crevices, in the remains of an
s/m parlor perhaps, in the remains of a parking garage perhaps, in the
remains if a silent film studio perhaps. The building is scarred; my work
devolves, unscars, dissolves. It is a shadow on a scar. It is the huddle

People: Alan Sondheim
Tags: Work, pain, death, dead

some legs (reworked 3d modeling image)

so that they're raw tissue or blood or leaking
so that their joints are troubling so that they're hanging
so that they're flags or fish or holiday
or carved from or stripped from meat so that they're raw pain
or so that they're dancing and ecstatic or something or someone
or other so that i knew who they were and know who they are
and know who they will be

People: Alan Sondheim
Tags: sex, dance, pain

on good days

i dream of hitler youth and grey soviet masses
i dream of nameless american troops and everywhere people marching
i dream of jagged assyrian warriors and batak sacrifices
everyone i know is deeply anonymous and wrecking
i dream of salvage and wrecking and dams holding back debris
i dream of walking in collapsed buildings and furious suicides
on good days i dream of drownings and medicated deaths
i dream police-tape barriers holding back the artifices of destruction
i dream of those artifices
on good days i dream of names in ash and broken mouths and screams
everyone i know is broken and everything is going under
on good days i dream this crime will be solved

Tags: pain, war, crime

memorial for my father, second day

true to the image or true to the intention
images have no intention, true to the image
true to the mood of the image, has no mood
nor true to the mood of the intention,
nor intention of the mood, nor truth to the image
which is formed by mood and intention,
no intention of intention, and no framing,
but framing of intention and mood, no framing
of the image, but the image's framing, breaking
the mood, intention

every image is memorial of itself,
memorial of every image, and a god
might say, so much sight, so much sight


Kittler just died, I remember Sartre going, my father at 97 was born in
1914, his mother died very shortly after, the world went into flames, has
continued along the same path. So everything, Derrida, Lacan, Jack Benny,
falls apart, falls out, I continue to work not with _those_ references,
but in new currents, until something withdraws, draws me back. It's too
simple to think of the past as stories, that what one ultimately offers is
stories, that these go the ways of mourning, lamentation, pain, death
itself. As if we're continuously walking wounded. I'm tired of this; I
want to work new for another twenty years at least. Memorials throw me
back into pasts that gnaw away at my soul, with the appetition of souls as
so many Barthian puncta, grasping away. It's all fiction. Tonight I was
given a sheaf of pages from a scrapbook or photobook of myself at ages


Well, since I've been on the residency - which deals with pain, wounding, death, sexuality, and the virtual - I've also been dealing with the death of my father, embezzlement, flooding, death of my thesis-advisor/friend, and family split-up. So tonight we watched Psych, a popular/satirical television program about a detective pair who solve crimes. So tonight my downstairs neighbor came back; at noon he had had an auto-accident in which his neck was broken, so he was in a heavy brace; the other driver was taken away in a stretcher. So my neighbor has amnesia about the whole incident which occurred four blocks from where I'm typing this, and Azure and I and another neighbor went out to solve the case. We took an infra-red camera and found 150' tracks across a major avenue indicating the other vehicle had been traveling at an untoward rate of speed.

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