Recipes for Horizons by Enrique De Santiago

BLENDED IN THE HOURS
From the place where the abrupt sound of the loica ventures

(1)
the evanescence of your future breath appears
among the vegetation that hides your name
and the blue and gray stones of the primal mystery
there I will drink from the mist that shouts the perpendicular miracle
the only reason at all
that moistens the vegetal belly of the beloved
and shines the incessant desire.
How long does the star take to announce your coming?
or there will be no signs in this already long life of chordates

(2)
while the empty horn waits for its winds
and the opaque flame of sleep leans into oblivion

(1) Signature and unpredictable bird before being (A) bird
in the light areas that are shaken by the wind
mythical and loving red that drew a smile on a child
to open the celestial fields of my pupil
that stirred my early neurotransmitters
before the new cycle (B)
(A) Before being
Before discriminating the gray hours from the clear ones
I inhabited the only and always proud clarity of my imaginary friend
(B) New cycle
My lymph is rocked by the wind
in a theater of new opportunities
those that favor the sweetness of the coots of sober stride
mating in the repetition of miracles
so that the aromas perpetuate my arcane name
and the wandering clouds welcome their polar persistence.
I had the option of ascending to lightning by the cosmic warp
where perhaps the root of the word would have questioned
in coming times of etheric colors
where time would have curved for your eyes
and I would raise your elusive silhouette that lies in the angle of a sunset
irretrievably withers the thaumaturgical vowel (B1)
as simple as a smile
or the collapse of a galaxy
since everything is corresponding
and apparent
with its prodigious lightness (B2)
Like a breath from the forest.

TRAVEL
I went down to the inside of your belly
caressing the rafters of your cosmic cloud
the one that received me with the aroma of the sacred bulbs.
There you were the clear love of wood
and the vegetal wisdom that embraces the ancient verb
when the wind ceases its journey on the shoulders
of the floral liturgy
How many skies inhabit your seed that furrows the seer’s eye?
Is there a niche of smoke that hides your salty voice?
Or simply the root of everything has its home in that mystery.

Each step collects behind you, the daffodils
that inevitably lose your mark
the one that wanders in the deep sands
that in the empire of shadows shelters you.
The messenger has a singular noise
I’ll feel it that dreadful day
I will know then that the epitaphs for the sepulcher arrive,
where nothing else needs to be done,
the metal swallows are an illusory replacement,
since the truths remained in the lock,
and blind to certainties,
I only rest for a few moments
to give me strength in the pilgrim sea,
the one who confuses the epistolary tides
and enjoys seemingly innocuous sacrifices.

I will kiss your lips according to the prophecy

while the breeze will speak the unfinished language

And you will see me with your green eyes

that are not green

are brown

But when you laugh they turn green

and you can draw a different morning

with an approximate solstice

with snakes in the window,

so my useless life becomes useful

because I’m a hobo of solar systems

and I become a wanderer in your body,

as a geographer of your corpse altar

and intruder in your zodiac cenith.

At this moment the end of the thread

talk about the miracle of one day

unrepeatable and mild luck

How strange of an eclipse

under the brief abyssal tides

like ghostly cardamoms approaching

in the deserts of disease

appealing to the late corrections

as it did for millions of years

moss persistence with its epicness

selecting the right humidity

with your organic and fruity hug

in that I put my hope

in what you find in front of your eyes

because I am the one who reads in the borrascas

as I advance toward your directions

who fires violent canines

before those who offend you

to heal that sadness

that leaves the middle of the night when you slip

inevitably and persistently beneath

out the door.

Chandelier in the mornings

this useless armor

And the leaves are blank

soaking up her violently dance

they burn in front of the cabinets of dubious origin.

I hear the birds giving birth to the woods, in the upper angles of a nebula.

At this moment the end of the thread
talk about the miracle of one day
unrepeatable and mild luck
How strange of an eclipse
under the brief abyssal tides
like ghostly cardamoms approaching
in the deserts of disease
appealing to the late corrections
as it did for millions of years
moss persistence with its epicness
selecting the right humidity
with your organic and fruity hug
in that I put my hope
in what you find in front of your eyes
because I am the one who reads in the borrascas
as I advance toward your directions
who fires violent canines
before those who offend you
to heal that sadness
that leaves the middle of the night when you slip
inevitably and persistently beneath
out the door.

written and Illustrated by ©Enrique De Santiago
.

Enrique De Santiago. Poet, Artist and Philosopher

Featured Image: “Beyond the visible world is the non-Euclidean horizon for the dragonfly” acrylic and ink on 250 gm Fabriano paper by Enrique De Santiago

Hallucination of the Arrival J Karl Bogartte

I discovered Photomorphosis way back in 1972 while attempting to copy an illustrated article in the Times magazine article on Yves Tanguy on an office copy machine. At night, in the dark. A clandestine maneuver. Photomorphosis is the enchanting process by which an organism changes or experiences metamorphosis under the influence of light… It is a natural process in the realm of photosynthesis, photolysis, etc., indicating the importance of light on living things, akin to shedding light on the darker areas of the mind…

A Wedding in the gardens of Yemen 2021

As an external organic process entering another level of meaning, it became an internal manifestation of an evolving morphology of the psyche. Under the sway of obsessive desire, I combined the words photograph and metamorphosis to signify the photomorphic process, without realizing that such a word already existed.

Salive, Copper and Moonlight

But, further research revealed that photomorphosis was no longer used by the scientific community to denote the organic process of light-induced metamorphosis and had been replaced by photomorphogenesis. Thus, by my investigation, I have given a new meaning to the abandoned word ‘photomorphosis’… by surrealizing it. To paraphrase André Breton: photomorphosis has been given to me to make surrealist use of it. The sustained investigation of the imagination is raised to the level of delirious curiosity, by the introduction of the activity of looking inward to discover, or in effect, to shed light on, the darker areas of the mind. To illuminate becomes a perfect analogy for the photomorphic process… The depths of the imagination open, the fields widen, things become visible… and metamorphosis is inevitable.

Alusofore’s Morning 2021

I drew pictures of strange animals as a kid, tried painting as a teen, and didn’t like the smell of the oils. I did nothing really, until about 19 years old after finding an anthology of French poets… That started my writing – loved surrealist poetry. Poets like Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Eluard. But mainly Andre Breton. He was the most interesting and inventive of them all really. Extremely magical. These days, or more recently, Rene Char (but mainly during his surrealist beginnings). I really like Jacques Dupin (who toyed with surrealism but became even more interested in the realm of language.) I am inspired mainly by Breton’s vantage point in the mind.

We have marvelous weapons

Having abandoned the copy machine at the end of 1999, I discovered that I could do the same thing on the computer and more, using Photoshop, in color, and with more tools…

Armed and Dangerous 2019

Most everything inspires my work. All of which are very much similar to collage. Both visual and textural. A deep synthesis between my writing and my visual works. How I work these days, well, it all stems from my own real-life experiences. However automatic and mostly strange, it’s not art, really, but a further investigation of the psyche… between the real and the imaginary.

The luminous bodies meeting for the first time…

Many years ago, I actually did hear and experience that voice of pure automatism. It startled me completely. I think, once you actually hear and listen to it, it opens a door a little, which stays open, and whenever I feel the urge to write or make imagery, it just comes out. It is believed that one is always dreaming, it’s just under the layer of normal perception of reality. One just stumbles upon it accidentally and feels an inkling, a glimmer of something out of that persistent dream. Like a Deja Vu experience.

Resolution of Pleasure 2019

There are vast differences today between the different countries and their systems of belief with regard to surrealism; not to mention the differences in approach between various groups of surrealism. All this eventually led to the founding of La Belle Inutile and the 6 or so people who had problems with modern surrealism, academia, social groups, etc. Problems to be solved.

written by J Karl Bogartte

The Wedding Guests Have Arrived
Cover for Philip Lamantia’s book Becoming Visible

J. Karl Bogartte, born September 8, 1944, of Dutch and Irish descent, is both an artist and poet, schooled in anthropology, photography and various esoteric traditions. He has been an active participant in international surrealism for more than 50 years, and cofounder of La Belle Inutile Éditions.  He presently lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Bogartte, is both an artist and poet, having published eight books of poetic writings: The Mirror held Up In Darkness, The Wolf House, Secret Games, Luminous Weapons, Primal Numbers, A Curious Night For A Double Eclipse, Auré, The Spindle’s Arc, and Antibodies: A Surrealist Novella.  Long aligned with international surrealism, Bogartte is also a cofounder of 
La Belle Inutile Éditions. His work has appeared in the following anthologies:  ANALOGON#65, Melpomene, Hydrolith #1 and #2, La vertèbre et le rossignol #4, Peculiar Mormyrid #2, Paraphilia,  Silver Pinion and The Fiend online journal.

J Karl Bogartte Books

photomorphose.wordpress.com

Mental Labyrinths Laberintos Mentales/Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel

The faceless figures in Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel’s work open a doorway to our silhouette.

Las figuras sin rostro en la obra de René Fernando Ortega Villarroel abren una puerta a nuestra silueta.

A labyrinth that challenges realities between an all-knowing self and a unicursal passage of selves.

Un laberinto que desafía realidades entre un yo que todo lo sabe y un pasaje unicursal de yos.

The viewer will see waves of motion paused long enough to discover psychic architecture and lapidary engines.

El espectador verá ondas de movimiento pausadas el tiempo suficiente para descubrir la arquitectura psíquica y los motores lapidarios.

Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel’s art delivers a psychic experience to our world. The deities are shapes and eternal archetypes

El arte de René Fernando Ortega Villarroel entrega una experiencia psíquica a nuestro mundo. Las deidades son formas y arquetipos eternos.

The vision is an art beyond the vanishing points camouflaged and hunted by shamanic, artistic, and theurgic observance.

La visión es un arte más allá de los puntos de fuga camuflados y cazados por la observancia chamánica, artística y teúrgica

Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel is a visual artist from Chile who practices the ancient tradition of X-ray vision in his painting.

René Fernando Ortega Villarroel es un artista visual de Chile que practica la antigua tradición de la visión de rayos X en su pintura.

Rene has exhibited work in Chile and Argentina. He is involved in many cultural art programs that have related to hospitals, children and teaching art professionally.

René ha expuesto obra en Chile y Argentina. Está involucrado en muchos programas de arte cultural relacionados con hospitales, niños y la enseñanza del arte profesionalmente.

“My concern is the human figure as a feeling of primitive and irrational states, whose main point is the heads, universal thought of the creation of man and center of the universe. All this led to a mutation of the plastic and pictorial language”.
Rene Ortega Villarroel

“Mi preocupación es la figura humana como sentimiento de estados primitivos e irracionales, cuyo punto principal son las cabezas, pensamiento universal de la creación del hombre y centro del universo. Todo esto llevado a un mutamiento del lenguaje plástico y pictórico”.
Rene Ortega Villarroel

Everyone is invited and welcome to celebrate Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel’s exposition Mental Labyrinths at the Til Til Cultural Center Art gallery on June 18, 2022

Todos están invitados y bienvenidos a celebrar la exposición Laberintos mentales de René Fernando Ortega Villarroel en la galería de arte del Centro Cultural Til Til el 18 de junio de 2022.

written by Mitchell Pluto

Taking the Auspices, Magic and Poems Hazel Cline

05/14/21
cosmic fires burn
behind the rich, black fabric of the night
which parts to let the magic pass
as particles of filtered light
the door lies open, the gate lies closed
life travels, small and swift
through tiny tears
a missing stitch
and life. the flow itself
the tear itself
the seam
a sight of seeming death
that folds, unfolds itself
in weeds of grief
and swaddles itself
and for the first time sees
that there the door lies open
to those laid out or she
on knees
black wings opened out
speak out in seven rings
the universe talks
and, so, we sing

07/09/21
shifting stars
and shifting rays of light
pierce, project
through fractal lens
into the fractured night
the universe mind filters
through this facet
and another
then the other and the next
it’s all-color light refracted
into rainbow shimmer
variations, life
the shadow dark
descent of being
is iridescent
sacred, sweet
the night is full
of teeming things
and thoughts
of universe
that sings

09/03/21
black wings flap against the dawn
lingering sweetly in the dark
prolonging, savoring
the last few tendrils of night
but the dark, black velvet sky grows thin
and soon the silken
cloth of twilight
transparent and delicate
ripples, dissolves
in a moment is gone
and morning begins
a teardrop
bright and golden
falls to the bottom
of the deep blue bowl
that holds it, the sky
and rolls back down the otherside
and so the sun descends
again, again
again
once, we saw it rise
but that was long ago
before we learned its name
and learned to make the choice
ever to fall
or ever to rise
or yet-to-be
asleep
abide

EGREGORE
An exhibition by the Atlanta Surrealist Group

Steven Cline, Hazel Cline, Aaron Dylan Kearns, Juli Maria Kearns, Megan Leach, Steve Morrison.
October 21-31 2021
The Bakery – Atlanta, Georgia

ELEPHANT WORLD

Collaborative writing: Hazel & Steven Cline

Grey smoke, static-waiting in this lonely god-form, the elephant world. Atmosphere of iron, melting into sea. The sea must move. Must never stop. Yet, it never forgets. From the cavernous, from the well, a swallow jumps. Its cry the first sound, its wings flap the first wind into being and make the movers move. Time, wrapped in a desert blanket, becomes muffled. A lunar heli-clipse spirals inside outside, holding death in her paws, crush what skull to wholeness? A mouse, a mouse of silver coat, has singed the lungs of the elephants who dance in circles under their lost mother, the moon. Stars expand, devouring the black, betraying the void. And as the myriad forms octopi the fountains of misery, love and thermometers break free. Is it cold or burning in the heart of the world; Is it strange, or stranger?

01/03/2020
the darkening skies
must shudder and crack
the darkening limits of love
must break
and the lightning must flow
through the veins
of the glow
the violet glow
of history unchained
and memory unknown
there is a quiet place
in unrequited grief
we must keep our face
streaked with grief
and never forget again
that we love
the lightning of hillsides
and the lightening of hearts
must not stop
the lightning that breaks
our barriers apart

ALLCLOCKWORK

Collaborative writing:  Hazel & Steven Cline

The Universe, her own lost lover, may be seen as machine, as a spiraling victorian machine of goldgear, allclockwork like a song, who descends again this dream. Angelic beings formulated only as a song of pure smell drift inward, licking like a perfumed song. A scented song that melts into black glass, darker than vacuum and more crystalline than volcanic orangutans. The seabird honks slowly, irreversibly, a world into myth. The spiderweb lacework left behind by all this resembles only slightly the forlorn face of Desire and her aging pack-animal, the horned, helical diviser of all manners of play. Patterns of a great mathematical sigh leap forward, and reveal themselves to have been all along a simple jest to amuse the one remembered in Desire’s lair. Speak! Reverse! This, the pelican calls to me, to be unafraid. This last day is sweet. A multitude, an ancient epoch, indwelling therein may, inside those glittering gears, break bread with shadows. But ever, ever, while the lonely lives we lead sits weeping by her mirror, can the Victrola spit out its slugs of light. In the sky above, what! cries the clouds, what is this fracture, this suture called time? Or elsewhere called form? Around us, a tower sheds its skin. Inside us, a tower devours and delights. And this hour is born as if it were the first hour, and the last hour, penetrating deep the ear of the Other. Again and again, but this time, the gears are well worn. This time…our ghosts dance.

RAINBOW DIVING

Collaborative writing:  Hazel & Steven Cline

A rainbow earthbound, dividing itself, disassembling. Red, caught in prairie dog’s embrace, builds his mudhouse around the hourglass cavern entrance. Blue, thoughtform, endodermic emissaries as its always, reshapes rain into purring playful kittens. Red, again, many times, but this time, most sweetly does it redden. Yellow kicks world’s undercarriage in its shins, bumbling slowly, stupidly; of all the violent yellows of the imagination, honey alone is tenderest, a spongecake, a saucy milksop. Ah, but purple! A color now, and then another. One color and many, Solitary and mixed. But all of these are just wet laundry in cardboard, skybleeders without care. Try instead the complexity of the allcolor udder that fills bellybirth calendars with Orange with Orange’s sad and wayward beams. Indeed, full orchards in bloom. Undercurrents undersea, liquidic petunias, Green breaks all this in her witherworn gaze, drowning into pulpworm magnificents. Learn well, then, the mazes of the deeps, or fall eternally, inexorably into farting arabesques! Or else, the obsidian horizons and wellsprings by which the silent tuber sleeps.

A Virtual Post Card to the Clines from Mitchell Pluto

SPIDERWAVES

Collaborative writing:  Hazel & Steven Cline

Sun on my face; worm in my palm. Where is the tree I saw before I was born if not in your heart? A dancer pounds the sand into myriad dynasties of memory. Eruption of geometric solids from a hardening ground. Devastated again and again into life. Without an eclipse of the moon; Without the face I missed and without the soonness of the end. Satisfaction gave way to a pomegranate; and then the dancers in the sky, in the night, in the sand fuse via epilepsy. Shadows silver, and I find I have something to lose. Something, as in hat or muskrat, but in other words there are many things of which we are made of. Mountainous sheets of white sand, signing high notes inside, outside. What is a mountain if not the universe? All I can think of is…whale. All I can think of is whale, which is everything. Everything, blowing sheet metal kisses across aquatic dreamtime streams. Kiss, then the sands, kiss then wind. The river makes love as you fly from the waterfall to the ocean. Spiderwaves crashing in your ears, and wouldn’t you know it? A secret succumb to the drifts.

CATERWAULING

Collaborative writing: Hazel & Steven Cline

Impish sprouts, come now, rejoin the nature choir. Spout from belly, cast skin aside, rejoin the broken ends of hairway screaming. Become erect in thy tendrils, in thy vines, in thy flowering eyelids, eyelips. Scales, weatherworn, may become grey or spotted, may become a disease repeated. Repetitive formlessness may become eyeless. Liked a castaway grail, like a traveler without species or a lichen dripping, frothing from the tips of broken fingers. Inside Castle, the deepness sleeps. The deepness repeats, reaching longingly out through the ribcagebars that hold its will in check. Across swampmoat, a game of chess is played, and yes, a checkmate too. A matter of alligator flesh, weighs your worth on its scales. Firebreather, O firething, O fireeater, bring forth the charred pieces of moleblind contempt, thy master. And lay him here, unbroken on that breakening altar, his feetflesh pollinated by cold wind. But the wind will have none of it. Virgin the wind is and will remain, no matter how many times she is raped. Caterwauling is a way for millipedes to divide and seek out that onebrightmissingthing. O everfree! O everleaving! A soul’s void casts its own shadow, too, my friend. O overbearing openness! Such openness is evisceration. Is evisceration, or crushed and squirming eggplant. A call: come now, worm, come now wind, defend your keep! Atom and Electron, enemies, conspirators, corpuscular in their insane infancy. We shall become nematodes on this day, or we shall expire. Thus is the will of the organ defended. Thus is the desire of the flesh raised again.

PEARLY TRUTH

Collaborative writing: Hazel & Steven Cline

When I bite down, my teeth spread fire. I bite down on tree, I bite down hard…a California, newly blackened. When I bite down on swimming pool? When I bite down on sea? I see the ships come and go in the night. From where do they come and wither do they go again? Where but the watery depths that hold the stars with a cargo such as that they leave at every doorstep and every grave. A ghost hand floating, a hand laid down, in a casket amongst friends. A weaponized hairplane, and a truth? Pearly truth? Pearly, yes, of the falsest kind, unlike the inky liquid left by the octopus my sister stepped on that summer when we were five or six. The luster of a pearl reflects the hungry gaze of the wanderer. But the unreflective black of closed eyes or submersion under the hungry waves shows the empty colors and flashes that call upward from eternity’s open veins…

LADYBUG LEVIATHAN

Collaborative writing: Hazel & Steven Cline

City of Cyber, inside belly of Panda. Inside panda-belly, squirming datanet suckers towards the base of your brain. Down flows the river of nerves, down winding, writhing around one another and the spine of this world. This planet called Ladybug Leviathan, this universe called Old Misery Guts. Once again this universe tells the story of the time when the slimesnake jacked in with his god cord, shivering electrical. And jacked off into the abyssal plains of the sordid, sacred animal brain of the metrosynaptic gecko. Everything teal here, everything teal or sometimes pink. And blood always purple, and blood rerouted through networks of laughter that rumble through those beautiful bowels that wailed and woke the world before worlds. Reprogram this panda, O history-keeper, O kelp-satisfied lizard of night’s mist. Open at last the lid behind the lid. Exsanguinate, expectorate, mark the spot where the psionic piston rotates. What, then, if that rotation should cease? What, then, if all the dark little spots behind your eyes should suddenly come to life?

I started drawing tarot cards as a way to deepen my relationship with and understanding of the characters and archetypes that people them. I went along with the fool on their journey, and together we struggled, died, were reborn, learned about life and ourselves, and started all over again.
Hazel Cline

Ephemerality Art

peculiarmormyrid

Atlanta Surrealist Group

Zodiac by Oscar Barra

Oscar Barra was Born in Santiago in 1964, he studied Art at the University of Concepción, co-founder of Grisalla, an outstanding group of artists from the 90s and early 2000s. Mainly dedicated to painting, he has extended his creation to engraving, sculpture and the drawing. He currently resides between Concón and also maintains a workshop in Santiago.

Transformation of Matters Andrew Mendez

Psychic automatism by Andrew Mendez 2022

If the notion of compassion is missing, this leads to darkness.. forgiveness is the letting go. It opens the space for the surreal.

It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is else where. What’s the need of a new manifesto if we have yet to meet the goals of the old one..

I live in balance with the Gods and they live in balance with me. The stone is compassion, not a matter what school. To know that it is. As it is, is to accept the idea. Do something about it , cause and effect… this is good alchemy.

Andrew Mendez 2022

Micro Portals Enrique de Santiago

What were the influences that made you interested in surrealism?

I began with the adventure of painting, a distant day at the beginning of the 80’s. At that time I did not know what Surrealism was, but my painting already contained the emotions coming from the automatism that supplied me with the imaginary of the unknown. Only the desire to stain lived in me so that I could recognize myself in this opportune path that appeared in me to travel, over time I realized that this path would lead me to enter forever into obscurity. Opting for another route, already at this point would be unthinkable, because the fascination produced by the spell of being a sailor of the marvelous, exerts in the spirit, an action that induces more to enter than to withdraw from this way of life.

In those years amid the smoke from the barricades under the extreme times of the dictatorship, the university and my lectern, the first lines that indicated to me that mine was to explore the vastness of the unconscious were succeeding. There were still no readings on Breton, nor Lautréamont, only the unexpected forms emerged instinctively that every day dialogued with my astonished eyes, because perhaps the metaphor came in my DNA, a product of the inheritance of my grandparents born in the shamanic areas of a people called Illapel to the north of Santiago, people linked to the land who, from their toponymy, also tell us the pottery history of this region.
In the late 1980s, I discovered Matta, but I was especially struck by Arshile Gorky’s work. I felt that his painting was very something that I had found intuitively, and it was then that I came to study Surrealism.

What poets informed you the most when you were young, who do you enjoy reading now?

By 1977, when I was 15 years old, my interest in writing verses had been awakened, and I still have those first poetic babbling. Those sheets speak of those attempts to give something different to the word, since when adding two, you will give a different meaning and meaning, more subtle, in short, that would have a broader meaning. I was in high school, and soon after I met friends who showed me Neruda, Enrique Lihn and those books that are shared in youth. There was life under a dictatorship and the first poets were what we know as committed or political writers

Poetry was still present, and my library had been joined by names like Nicolás Guillén, Ernesto Cardenal or Roque Dalton. I wrote in my spare time, and much of that poetry served the cause of the offended and their struggle for liberation for the construction of a new, more just life.
Today, my gaze is more inclined towards writers under the sphere of the marvelous, such as Lautreamont, Enrique Gómez-Correa, Ludwig Zeller, Breton, and various surrealists, including many contemporary ones such as the Argentine Carlos Barbarito, or Raúl Henao from Colombia and Rodrigo Executioner from Chile.

What inspires you to write and what is your relationship to the subconscious process?

Man has always been alone, or feels alone in the face of the tremendous burden imposed by his own life, knowing that he is finite, helpless, fragile in the face of the profound and imperative mission of his biological being that apparently only drives him to survive in a better way. To reset your genetic code. For me, when thinking about the reason for human existence, there was something more than that and I perceived life as the tip of an iceberg of something deeper. This perception was manifesting itself in an incessant hammering of questions that pushed me to seek a similar amount of answers. These appeared as strokes and symbols emerging frantically on the canvas, paper or any other medium that was at hand. The impression produced on this journey in front of the void always concluded with the idea that from the place where the shapes and their colors arose, there must exist something beyond those first images, an infinite dimension different from ours. Over time I realized that this dimension outside, extensive and prolonged, was also lavished inwards, even inside it, a kind of succession of shots that to some extent Breton cites in his myth of “The great transparent ones.”

What I inhabit, in its wide expansion lives and like me, this entity has its own consciousness, that manifestation was also in movement like my paintings, because they imitated that condition, I was interested in what was moving, what appeared, what phenomenological with its arsico-thetic high spirited rhythm, with its secret music, because as the alchemist said “The balance that needs to be reached is not the one that produces immobility, but the one that performs movement. Well, immobility is death and movement is life ”. It follows from these words then that the apparently immobile void is also movement, as it must transform as the forms move in their area, the forms that comprise the void are subjected to those others that occupy said volume and pass to become the reality or surreality of form-ground. This caused me to insist on the search for unknown forms, since these also had their residence in hidden and extensively deep planes, this is how these first years of exploration were given in what I later defined as my stage of Expressionist Surrealism. Abstract, an exercise determined primarily by the violent and swift gestures that construct both the background and the foregrounds.

How do you imagine Chile will be in the future?

I see this place that I inhabit, as a region full of possibilities for the future. It has already been seen that after a long street revolt that lasted for months, the people have wanted to take charge of their destiny. But there is still a long way to go, and in that sense, the different grassroots social groups, which include the surrealists, are working to contribute from each of the visions to build a more just world. The economy presents clear contradictions, a formula given for certain human types and not for a society, so this presents the challenge of eliminating it, but at the same time it must establish a replacement model. The constant increase in drug trafficking, crime – a product of social marginalization – and social stress, make large Latin American cities a powder keg about to explode that requires major surgery, but which one?

Capitalism is exhausted and Marxism is not capable of laying solid rhizomes in society, so it is necessary to look for a political-cultural-social model that is inclusive of this vast diversity, then, a new model is necessary.

The world cries out to find something beyond in this life, and surrealism, as in periods of past crisis, resurfaces as a vision of the inner search that is offered through many ways, as a way of recognizing ourselves as essentiality. So there they are, the dreams – the dreamlike -, the animistic, the shamanic, the art of mediums, the culture of the seers, metaphysics, the ludic, the absurd, and the entire super-reality, more real than reality, and wiser, but hidden so as not to give understanding or reason, or lights of human liberation and which is sponsored by those who deprived everyone of the original knowledge and sophisms of the world, due to their own petty interests.

It is therefore important to recognize all the parties involved in our construction as beings from this part of the world, and it is there where we can take or take the previous teachings, and take possession of the magic that surrounds us, the animism that is practically endemic to these areas of the globe, the shamanic spiritism that holds the keys to the many astral planes, the wisdom of the shamans of the continent, as well as the knowledge of other extinct peoples or already on the brink of their disappearance as ethnic groups, with a unique connection with the cosmos, and that they have somehow survived the era of overwhelming official-scientific culture.

What are your thoughts on the future of surrealism, art, and technology?

From my point of view, the unknown concept was, is and will be present in the concern of the one who has sought and seeks. Nowadays digital media facilitate that search in a certain way, but they also distract the being, so res Amplia (extensive reference) interferes with res cogitans (radical dualism. Brain and consciousness), clouding the way to transcend beyond. This Cartesian measure is what has made the human being lose his way, by not attending to the res profundis (depth and meditation on humanities deepest feelings), that is to say, our inner universe. The latter is the information that I seek, without abandoning or suppressing the exercise of reality (in a partial way), rather I intend to combine or not practice the absolute, this allows to enrich the work, give it more points of view, without fear even to make it abundant, to have the combinatorial elements between the synthetic and the analytical abundance, this cannot harm it, what does limit it is the perspective of the time in which the artist and the viewer are cloistered, as limited or bounded subjects, social and philosophical concepts or ideas.

On the other hand, science and technology have confirmed what was written in the hermetic books and in the visions of those who have entered to navigate the unknown, and in that sense quantum physics opens up a whole universe, or multiverses of possibilities.

Surrealism for me is revolutionary, dynamic, inexhaustible and with infinite possibilities. Another definition would be to interpose realities-unrealities head on, open them up on a point, find a new cognitive relationship, an unknown perception, etc. Due to the abundance of disturbing signs and discouraging elements that make it difficult to maintain good sense in the transition to surreality, I briefly interfere with such and such elements through my work and rescuing the hidden memory, re-presenting the signs and symbols associated with the atavistic that are better conductors towards surreality since they have left more impressions in what I call dimensional worms (paraphrasing Einstein), either due to their abundance of imprints made by previous souls. Every fact, every thought, impulse or gesture is recorded on the other side of the mirror, where it could be printed as part of the landscape of dreams, delirium or death.

Today, however, in a world saturated with images and stimuli, we surrealists have become a group of scattered Essenes, throwing tiny signs in the immense sea of ​​millions of contemporary sophisms.

What kind of beliefs do you have about mutant space, animism, egregore realities collective unconsciousness and science?
What then is surreality in relation to reality?

These and other questions repeated themselves in my thoughts day after day. It was my imagination, mental fantasy, an attempt by consciousness that played to disarm or articulate reality to find new and capricious constructs. How was reality embedded in this extensive map beyond the limits of the understandable or measurable? That is when I began to understand from the studies on quantum physics, that reality was determined by the observer, so it was pertinent to look in another way, but above all, it was necessary to feel different and take the explorations to an abyss more extreme.

And why not? draw a line between the two stages, a kind of silver cord between reality and surreality. Then, in parallel, a project called “The meeting of two worlds” arises around the year 1999. This topic focused on comparing these worlds that were found in the 15th and 16th centuries in America, between the original peoples of our continent and the Christian conquerors. -Europeans, bearers of a culture and worldview completely different from the natives. The indigenous man was a shaman, a being who lived with the magical forces of the universe and the land that he inhabited. A culture that had the condition of living in an everlasting state of connection with the metaphysical forces that surrounded it. That was also a participatory society with its environment, he knew by ancestral transmission that the world was also inhabited by hidden forces and that for him they were not unknown, surreality or part of it was in a certain way reality.

On the contrary, the European man had come to abandon in the twelfth century a large part of his magical-hermetic heritage when the inquisition was established, in addition, the first glimpses of a rationalist doctrine that would later derive in its pseudo positivist and mechanistic truth began to take hold. about the world. Then this encounter had to be reflected on the canvas, rather than as a mere contrast, the communicating areas or zones that carry the forms from one plane to another, the deep perception of the indigenous versus the fixed cognitive condition of the Spanish, should also be perceived. Then the dividing line of both planes appears as mobile, it can retract, expand, or meander depending on my exploratory spirit, where I also become a primary observer, to later be part of the sum of observers.

During those years I asked myself what, how or where is the line that divides reality from surreality drawn? What determines our knowledge, about one field or another? The answer was in the painting that was conjugated in different depths of the unconscious, it was therefore necessary to start from the conscious point. It was necessary to combine reality with surreality, draw this map and see where the levels would differentiate one from the other or how their border lines behaved, at the moment when that surreality was incorporated into my new reality.

There it is, in which a long road begins to open this kind of cube and find the mysteries of life as Matta suggested on some occasion, which later would be a Leitmotiv, a recurrent theme for my work.

What is hidden inside and outside the geometry? What invisible force orders chemical and biological processes? What is that invisible or surreal? What is the universe and what sustains it? A reverse universe?

The painting, the installations, the deep search would generate certain answers.
One day I reflected on all this immense scenario of reality, all designed so that a microscopic link occurs (the fertilization of the ovum) and manifests itself almost imperceptibly in this infinite vault, which is also constantly expanding from the point known as the great explosion and that by which, by many geometric variables, arithmetic and laws of physics, that allow nebulae to be sustained, that give rise to galaxies, which give rise to stars, which in turn when they collapse give origins to White dwarfs or quasars that gravitate in such a way that they absorb other galaxies, being the first to be absorbed, the galaxy itself that contributed to this sun to hold and orbit, in a matter of a second all that indescribable energy and matter is compressed to almost nothing

Where are you going? Is it transferred to a parallel universe? In addition, among all these bodies and events, another structure unfolds with an apparently supporting role of these bodies of measurable mass, the so-called dark matter, which can be the reflection or aura of the first, or the sum of peripheral points of which of each one, a parallel universe is born, universes of our own inverse universe, with a non-concept, or a no-idea, or a non-sensation that places us in a position closer to the concept, as it does not oppose resistance due to interferences, of which I will refer later, since advancing a little, the plastic structure can lead to one or the other another way to penetrate those micro portals that link with the opposite universes. Observe the reverse side of the proton (the antiproton) or the reflected and extended universe of the point where the flora concept ends. But to read these, I must gradually detach myself from the observed concept, its own and recognized meaning, leave the idea that conceives it on our plane to find the idea on the other side of the mirror, an exercise that we could call the philosophy of detachment , or what should I do to find?, the answer seems to be, to possess the non-ubiquity to understand and order the message that flourishes and the rivers that open behind the keys. That operate in this kind of sephirotic columns, these, without distinction, are offered wide to the observer and to the one who searches. It is a spectral relationship, a multi-ubiquity given by the impressions of other previous forms, which are also present in a spectral way.

Obviously in the face of such a reflective task, the everyday being looks for shortcuts in his thinking task, or definitely opts for drowsiness. In his role of thoughtless educating, acquires and ingests the small blurry painless doses that contain the

“I will not perceive beyond my cages and the circuits that interconnect them”.

The man in antiquity creates the myth, since it helps him to understand the phenomenological, but the myth seems to have arisen from an ancient knowledge and does not seem to be a fact so far from reality. For the same reason, I must delve into the myth that underlies the surreal piélagos, the ocean. This information in the form of myth is nothing more than the symbolic way in which the archetypes appear to us, a resource that Carl Jung himself recognized. Hence, Breton saw the importance of generating new myths. Beyond pretending to deceive or falsify, the idea is to enter the archetypal warp that dwells in our unconscious to find the answer that seems similar to the constructive reality in the mythological dawn.

I apply that principle from painting, each work is a search in the surreality of a myth that illuminates us about an unknown essentiality. It appears and determines its own history.

Enrique de Santiago, Born in Santiago, Chile (1961). Visual artist, poet, researcher, essayist, curator and cultural manager. He studied a Bachelor of Art at the University of Chile and at the Institute of Contemporary Art (Chile). Since 1984, he has exhibited in individual and group exhibitions, counting to his credit around more than 100 exhibitions.

He has edited five books: Fragile Transits Under the Spirals in 2012, with La Polla Literaria; Elegía a las Magas and the book essay: El Regreso de las Magas, both with Editorial Varonas. In 2018 he edited La Cúspide Uránica with editorial Xaleshem and Dharma Comunicaciones, and Travel Bitácora with Editorial Opalina Cartonera.

He has participated in various poetry anthologies, both in Chile and abroad. He has collaborated in the newspaper La Nación with articles on new media art, and in magazines such as Derrame, Escaner Cultural and Labios Menores in Chile, Brumes Blondes in Holland, Adamar from Spain, Punto Seguido from Colombia, Sonámbula from Mexico, Agulha de Brazil, Incomunidade de Portugal, Styxus de Rep. Czech, Canibaal de Valencia, Spain, Materika de Costa Rica and other printed and digital publications.


Enrique de Santiago Art work

figures of speech in D minor

organize the snakes
pluck strings
divide the wave to the pedal point
a step, a diesis, a key signature
target a center
ignition
arrow
bow lyre
fabulist
the dirty gods
she had a nice base
associative process with dials from point to point
seamlessly one to the other
and then Sigmund Freud’s rings
hello
utterance
udder rants
a scale rave
turning things into words
a jewelers hammer
striking the strings
kinetic parenthesis circle intersection
drawing back waxing
links undone wading
octaves and moonlight
the face on a corpuscule
Saint Teresa melts the robot
into a full bodied universe

written by © Mitchell Pluto October 3, 2021

Mystical Lapidary and Finding the Crucial Angle

Mystical Lapidary and Finding the Crucial Angle

written by ©Mitchell Pluto March 19, 2021

The Ancient Egyptian Ka is an expression of vital essence, a force rising from a place that can not be explained. I haven’t found any strict definition of Ka but it is similar to the word soul. Many sources explain that the hieroglyph that display two arms are symbolic of molding pottery on a potters wheel.

The Ka

My first impression of Ka is energy. Another translation, based partly on the educated guesses of Julian Jaynes in his book The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind mentions qualities of conscious related to autoscopy. This idea of Ka as a double isn’t significantly supported when cross examined but there are some credible details to consider temporarily.

From the Desk of Shamelessly Atheist, On the nature of so-called “out-of-body” experiences

The autoscopic narrative suggests reflection is a kind of illusionary duplication, a way of putting one’s self into an object For example the Tutankhamun sarcophagus is a vivid copy of the pharaoh’s Ka or soul. To me it seems valid to consider Ka a universal signature that represents a forms presence fully. That sense of residence and memory survives the limits of the original. In this case and many others, the forgery is a decoy that influences our subconscious more powerfully than the original source.

Norval Morrisseau from Norval Morrisseau: Shaman Artist. National Gallery of Canada; First Edition (January 1, 2006)

Ojibway artist, Norval Morrisseau talked about The House of Invention. He never explained what the House was dogmatically. The meaning I found in what Morrisseau was talking about was the House was a flash of instantaneous possibilities.

Rarely we receive a glimpse of light from The House of Invention unless it’s in our dreams. My personal experience was an astral dream where my future self (Visual Spatial perspective) was touring the House of Invention. All the art was holographic and animated in a sequence of a fluid loops. It was comparable to the graphics interchange format but without any tics, fully three dimensional while suspended in space.

Plato also mentions a House of Invention he called hyperuranion, a place were all the forms live.

Jupiter in Vedic astrology is Guru, otherwise known as an auspicious teacher of light or in old fashion terms, simply- lord of light. This the embodiment of the silhouette ventriloquized by light in the painting. How we talk to ourselves influences our smallest self at an atomic level. The effects of Jupiter widens, extends and liberates space between lines. The planet’s influence causes us to to see things clearly without mistake. Jupiter is benevolent, helpful and fatherly. It has everything and doesn’t need anything. With it’s massive weight it moves obstacles effortlessly. Jupiter rules the 9th house of theurgy, learning, spirituality and awareness of reality.

Jyotisha astrology. Vedic houses chart, Sanskrit jyotiṣa, from jyóti- “light, heavenly body”

this speculative writing is not intended to officially represent the views of any group or religious institution.