Thursday, November 25, 2010

The Mostly Wonderful Story Status of Universes: a Limited Fork Theory observation of an amazing interactive impulse so far unstoppable, unflappable, unrelenting, undeniable

Not only because of the approach of Thanksgiving and its mandate (as practiced in my family) to reflect on some form of blessing, preferably neglected forms, but also because I'm, well, usually fork-ready do I think about: The Mostly Wonderful Story Status of Universes: a Limited Fork Theory observation of an amazing interactive impulse so far unstoppable, unflappable, unrelenting, undeniable

(images of fork-ready forkergirl by Ansted of kna'Knox)

fork-ready: prepared through a bifurcating, connecting, disconnecting, and reconnecting (on some scale, in some location, for some duration of time) tine system (perhaps even a single tine that in its looping and twisting and coiling and curling and thinning and thickening and spiraling and loss and gain or color, etc. seems a mass of many tines instead of an endless single) —even though the many, if that is the case, may have sprouted from a single origin: connected at/to the root system, perhaps forming the root system by bifurcating from an original point, some sort of bursting in every direction, in fact bursting and simultaneously establishing direction, space, time, the remarkable;

prepared for the reaching out, the reaching toward and the reaching for that I like assigning to roots and branches as indication of compulsion to seek something with which to connect, as indication of ability to seek something with which to connect, as indication of need to seek something with which to connect —the very definition of fork. Dare I say as revelatory of design? made to reach, seek, connect? A self-designed existence for which existence is existence's engine? —a whole lot of power that came from where? why? how? Or maybe it was already always there: unbounded, infinite location in which sleepy stuff drifted around, bumping into each other and aggregating into something more robust, more volatile, and then poof! a cycle of existence ignites, spreads, is still spreading, existence riding shockwaves of its own existence —till one day it fizzles? stuff goes back to sleep, drifts, collides, aggregates, explodes.

My favorite branch is the one posted here, a digital copy of what I photographed in 2006 on Miller Road, a branch well-involved with reaching, curving, heading for spiral, partial lung outline, almost half a valentine, more heart when the branch mirrors into valentine fulfillment, the eye/mind/digital manipulation extending/fixing the curve for love of that.

View Larger Map

The branch arced almost completely across the street, from even to odd side. I drove under it twice a week day, as under a wooden arm of rainbow, wooden arch, shrine, colossal matchstick. I had thought to take one of its leaves, without working out how I might climb it, what it would be like to hang from it over moderate residential traffic, or determining whether or not the branch I loved could support my weight plus the added bulk of adoration, but I didn't act soon enough; that branch is gone now, a curl of smoke up and out a chimney (announcing the death by licensed axe-murderer of the wooden Pope of Miller Road) the same year that I photographed it as I approached it in my car. There was no city-wide mourning of the almost-half-heart limited fork branch. No obituary in the print news that soon enough published its own obituary, joining the death of one of the best independent book stores ever, the massive wooden doors transplanted to Shaman Drum from lesser castles.

(fork usually seen tines-up with knife on ShirtiGator red knife and fork apron, black knife and fork apron, and underwear)
At ShirtiGator, forks tell parts of their story, and as clones, they tell other parts of their story here. The telling is an unfolding of information; anything that exists exists as information and as the story system of that information.

I join fork theory at a point where a fork already exists, where a forking system is already active: bifurcations in progress, accustomed to unfolding, yet there's room for me within the accommodating system, and room for the forking within my evolving sensibilities. The limited forking system and I adapt to each other, and my identity is reforged: forkergirl emerges.
Reborn daughter of a fork, reborn mother of a fork.

Love at first awareness of encounter.

I lost the ability to form any contexts that a limited fork did not inform. I terminated old loyalties, even those from which I'd benefitted. The whole fork (within the limits) and nothing but the fork. Live by the fork, for the fork: the tines that bind also blind. I'm lovin' the fastness of the reconfiguration of food: when the tines are bare, turns out that the utensil itself has a taste. Assessments of information are filtered through Limited Fork Theory, connection after connection in an incredible anthology of encounter. In the evidence of encounter, the information of encounter are the stories of encounter. Time is also the story of time. Space is also the story of space. The fork-constant keeps forking; the fork constantly forks. Assessments are therefore made within a limited or compromised context of, as far as Limited Fork Theory knows, fork perpetuity.

Ever since there's been a limited fork system, the fork has been constant, existing in some form on some scale in some location. That it adapts as it receive (and transmits) information (stories); that it is configurable helps it succeed, helps it persist, form after form, iteration after iteration, story after story.

Mysteries of beginning have no consequence that threatens the fork, for solving those mysteries or not solving them does not terminate the fork's existence. All possible beginnings lead to a lead fork, bifurcate into a limited fork, because the fork exists already, is already an interim destination of all genesises. Any speculation, hypothesis, or ultimately proof about genesis must somehow lead to emergence of a limited fork system, a system that only from time to time distresses over a lack definitive reason for its existence —maybe that's why it works so hard to reach for, to reach toward, eventually, everything, collaborating in manufactured purpose.
Could it be that the complete story of anything is also the story of everything?

Seeking connection, making connection, toward a moment in which everything has become temporarily connected with everything, a kind of filling in of those gaps between things, as if once all connected, that tine, that string could be pulled returning stuff to a compact state, perhaps a dense ball becoming increasing more dense the tighter the string is pulled by a gravity of self-embrace into a tiny speck of infinite density, a seed for another cycle of universes as a tendril leaks and the whole thing comes undone, an infinite unraveling until stuff grabs onto stuff and pulls everything together again until another leak. Above, the Ganges as captured in a NASA satellite image bifurcates, flows, connects with (with a little help from forkergirl and their shared ambition) two Twisted Fork Bistro logos, the convergence telling a story of convergence, accommodation, access, connection.

The Ganges-Twisted Fork Bistro poam.

River and logo side-by-side, a bit of Ganges and a taste of Vancouver bathing in the river, forking up water that washes the twisted tines, that flows between them, that falls, having touched tines back into the river, back into the water cycle, back into recycling bits of reconfigured existence:

At the top, a bit of silver-plated Ganges captured just after it came out of forkergirl's mouth as the words silver-plated Ganges came out of the mouth that tasted them with teeth, tongue, lips, mind, heart: a moment of giving Thanks.

(A Veal Surprise Shatters A Family's Turkey Day
from npr)

To exist is to be a form of story.

We are immersed in chapters, we contain chapters, and we are chapters.

Some of us experience the poetry of this, are aware of the lovely and tragic poetry of this, burden of metaphor, information able to be expressed as other information, the loveliness and tragedies of configurability, everything is the poetry of this terrible and wondrous, the powerful and humbling intrusion of connection, the collaborative nature of all things telling a story against singular possession and individual achievement, a story of embrace that as it widens on all scales in all locations during all moments of time snares everything (at least once), possesses all (on some scale in some location for some duration of time), achieves.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Experiments and Plans:

I have at last found a method of animation that works for me! I have tried drawing with chalk on brick walls, scribbling felt tips on mirrors, I even used the drawing pad in Motion...

I have taken a series of 150 photographs of a painting developing from a blank page to pencil, charcoal, and finally oil paint. I was trying to create a portrait in a way to show how it takes time to truly get to know a person, and I am finally happy with this outcome.

My original story was an animation of The Traveler's journal opening and gradually coming to life. I now think it would looks very disjointed to combine all the experiments I mentioned earlier. They should remain separate, as mini stories.

I am now trying to find a way to reconnect with those we care about in our home countries through art, possibly by sending images in the post around the world...

wall post

Two from Fier on Vimeo.

Monday, November 15, 2010


I am currently at a stage in my process where most of my time is spent waiting....

I mailed out my booklets to my brother and sister, and have yet to receive them back. They should arrive this week.

This is what I am waiting for, with the addition of their handwritten answers:

More to come...


Monday, November 8, 2010

Rules & Obstructions of PREPAREDNESS OF MOMENTS

In Limited Fork Theory, the moments are always ready.

The moment of enactment, of idea taking shape, not out of nothing, but out of some energy and substance available to become the electrical and chemical activity of thought. Both the mechanisms and what powers the mechanisms of thought are available. A moment is ready to become tethered to an idea, to become part of the birth stamp of idea. A peculiar —and I think, marvelous— enlargement

—time need not be physically stressed to accommodate moments in which idea is born. Time is apparently flexible. A moment opens, not necessarily as a slit, but in all directions and on all scales necessary for what will occupy the opening (which could also take the form of a swelling or bubble or other distortion without causing time to stop functioning). Occurrence may be experienced sequentially, but the line of sequence may take on any shape, may twist, curl, spiral, loop, fold, coil, and so forth, or may be, on some scale[s] of encounter, apparently straight. So the idea system may change shape, may be configured and reconfigured and still be supported by the time and space that host it, the configurable time and the configurable space that host it. The idea system's movement and growth are unrestricted within what is possible for movement and growth of idea systems. (image of neuron response to an electrical signal from Contemplating Thought by Susan Gaidos at Science News for Kids)

Brain need not be physically stressed in order to accommodate idea systems and their possible associated infinities. But there is expansion occurring. An emerging idea system contributes to there being more in the mind than before the emergence. The idea system itself may grow, may lead to subsystems capable of as much or even more growth than any of its source systems. And there is room for the expansion, always room for expansion. I have not had to evict an idea system in order to make room for another. When inactive, it is as if the idea system is compressed for better storage, but when necessary, it may unfold, and have space for that unfolding, the size of my head apparently constant. The hat I wore before an idea system emerges sill fits after emergence. In the mind there are many universes. Compressed universes. And both electrical and chemical keys and locks to these kingdoms.

(image of linked neurons from Contemplating Thought by Susan Gaidos at Science News for Kids)

The time and space in which thought occurs is available —the idea system will fit into the existing brain, the forms of enlargement and expansion the idea system require apparently not enlarging the brain's physical dimensions, at least not in an easily measurable way. There are bursts of electrical and chemical activity when idea systems are born—sometimes twin idea systems, triplets, or more. Explosions perhaps similar to fireworks: flowering idea systems. Luminous flowerings. Lightning, of course, as idea trails. I would love for my hair to respond to these flowerings, a glow traveling from the roots to the ends of the hair, maybe even splitting those ends more. I would like this at least once. I am thinking of this light, and it is a radiant happening in my mind. And in the mind of a mermaid I imagine thinking while submerged in water, her glowing hair like other glowing tentacles in the ocean. She comes out of the sea as if her head's on fire, strands of hair like streaks of sunset, intensified by dust and debris light filters.

Maybe I'm too easily impressed, wowed too much by existence itself —the existence of anything— but I'm taken with the wow of how there's room for an idea when the idea emerges. No pinch or squeeze in my experience. Within what exists, an access point appears to, for instance, a tube-like structure where a universe may grow, attached to a facet of a universe that itself may be attached to a facet of yet another universe or system of existence with complex geometry.

Space and time are able to accommodate the idea system, no matter how elaborate the growth of the world of that thought system. A new reality may emerge without displacing realities already active; in fact, the thinker may easily navigate to other idea system realities. The electrical and chemical streams will flow (unless damaged —in some cases, perhaps damaged on some scale in some location by aspects of the flow of the erupting idea system). Forms of displacement (including forms of distortion) can and do occur, but are not necessary, may not the norm; in most cases, a new reality of thought emerges in the brain without apparently altering space and time although space and time were full before the arrival of the idea system that prior to arrival apparently had no existence.

The moments are available, moment systems: moment and the tethered context of moment, the where of when, the when of where, for instance. The moment system comes in stereo, is quadrophonic, has dimensions of being, complex geometry. The possibilities of moments are arranged in all possible arrangements, fulfillment occurring when a path is selected, followed. A ideas emerges in a moment and fixes that moment to its emergence, produces a general definition further defined by subsequent choices and behavior along the path of emergence. Now are choices limited to the shaped infinities available within the context of the fixed moment, each decision reconfiguring the available possibilities within limited infinities. So there is a sequence of decision or a line of decision. A line of what happens in the idea system. The line is made of sequential components, but the shape of the line may be any possible shape. May be a spiral or curl, a loop, a zigzag, or may be straight, etc., may be of mixed form, may change direction yet still be expressible as sequence: this happened, then this happened, as the happenings form patterns and shapes of diverse and complex geometries.
(tree mapping of streets of Seoul from Lee jang sub's ComplexCity Project)

Every possible configuration of moment is waiting to become event, etched into a memory of happening, even what may be imagined, what happens in imagination, and what decision excludes. Possible substance is not the same as fulfilled (it has happened) substance. Available for fulfillment vs fulfilled. The where of availability lacks the physicality that defines the where of our existence; accessing the where of availability produces fulfillment, but an act of fulfillment indicates that what was necessary for fulfillment could be accessed.

The moments that are available as if in queues configured in every way that queues may be configured. So some queues bend somewhere in their queue state. Some rotate somewhere in the queue state. Some twist. Some decay. Some spring. Some (parts of) queues are concealed in (parts of) queues). Some queues are reflections, shadows, eclipse systems. Some queues commit to digesting. Some are uncommitted for now. Some are gaseous. Noisy. Some are apparently silent because their vibrations are not measured in an audible range, but the trembling is nevertheless symphonic sometimes. This is all at once. Every possibility exists. Can be mined. Plucked. And so forth. And maybe there is someone to select every possibility. Maybe there is no waste of possibility. Maybe, for this would have to be one of the possibilities, there is a version of me who still sees clearly out of the left eye.

It is as if one moment system contains all possibility, is all possibility, is contained by all possibility until defined by specifics of happening.

The moments are ready to be enacted, to become path, to become a queue of limiting factors as the moment trail unfolds.

Infinities within the limiting factor of enactment are always available.

Each selection shapes the remaining infinities, each smaller, but no less infinite.