ART WRITING

GAPS INTO NEGATIVE MATTER. WHY DO WE WANT TO, AND HOW DO WE GET THROUGH THEM?

(TRANSLATED FROM LITHUANIAN BY CHAT.OPENAI)


ON YOUR FIRST DAYS OF LIFE, YOU ARE STILL THE SAME AS YOU WERE WHEN YOU WERE CREATED - SWEET AND FRAGRANT. THIS IS BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T THROW YOU OUT OF THE WINDOW. THEN YOU BELIEVE IN YOUR OWN WONDER. THIS IS THE FIRST STAGE. THAT WONDER SURROUNDS YOU. IN THE SECOND STAGE, WHEN HIERARCHY BRINGS YOU DOWN, YOU ARE HAUNTED BY MEMORIES OF THAT INITIAL WONDER. IT IS ONLY BECAUSE OF THIS MEMORY THAT YOU ARE UNHAPPY. SO, FOR THE UNHAPPY TO BECOME HAPPY, THEY SHOULD SIMPLY FORGET EVERYTHING. FIRST OF ALL - THEIR MOTHER. AND AFTER THE MOTHER, OF COURSE, EVERYTHING ELSE.

THIS IS THE PHILOSOPHY OF DESTRUCTION - A FORM OF LIBERATED FATALISM. WE SURRENDER OUR SECURITY AND SELF-WORTH TO FATE - ESSENTIALLY MEANING INDEPENDENCE FROM THESE THINGS. THE KEY IS NOT TO ABANDON ACTION, BUT TO AVOID SECRET SILENCE, STRATEGIC JUSTIFICATION, ADAPTATION, OR HYPOCRISY, AND INSTEAD ENGAGE IN SINCERE AND OPEN CONVERSATION, READY TO NEGATE AND DESTROY OURSELVES IN ORDER TO PRESERVE THE SHARPNESS OF IDEAS.

IN THE PROCESS, WE DESTROY EACH OTHER. BUT ARE IDEAS REALLY WORTH IT? ARE THEY WORTH IT?

CAN YOU FEEL HOW YOUR BODY VIBRATES? EVERY PART OF YOUR BODY YOU THINK ABOUT SUDDENLY STARTS VIBRATING AT A MICROSCOPIC LEVEL. THOSE ELECTRONS! THEY MOVE LIKE WORMS. THEY DON'T STAY STILL, THEY CONSTANTLY WRIGGLE - THEY VIBRATE. JUST LIKE THE LARVAE OF A BUG. THEY WRIGGLE THEIR WHOLE LIFE. THE MORE YOU TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT THEM CONSCIOUSLY, THE MORE THEY WRIGGLE. YOU AND YOURSELF ARE LIKE WORMS, WRIGGLING YOUR WHOLE LIFE. HOW TO SCREW IT UP. YOU ESPECIALLY LOVE TO MOVE TO MUSIC, GRIT YOUR TEETH LIKE A FOOL. YOU STUFF ALL SORTS OF OTHER VIBRATING THINGS INTO THOSE TEETH, WHICH ALSO VIBRATE IN YOUR STOMACH. THEN IN YOUR STOMACH, YOU GET REGULAR-SIZED WORMS. AT THAT MOMENT, YOU ARE DEEPLY ASLEEP. YOU DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT HOW CLOSE YOUR WORMS ARE.

I CAN'T CATCH THE ACTION SOMEHOW. MAYBE BECAUSE IT ALSO VIBRATES, BUT ITS VIBRATIONS ARE LONGITUDINAL - LIKE SPLINTERS. THEY STICK TO EACH OTHER LENGTHWISE. YOU CAN'T FOLLOW THE ACTION WITH THOSE SPLINTERS BECAUSE EACH OF THEM ENDS FAST ENOUGH. BY THE TIME YOU FIGURE IT OUT, THE NEXT ONE HAS ALREADY MOVED AWAY. YOU CAN'T STOP EITHER BECAUSE THE SPLINTERS DON'T HOLD ONTO EACH OTHER ANYMORE. THEY BREAK APART LIKE PIECES OF GLASS. ALONG WITH THEM, POETS WHO HAVE LOST THEIR WAY ALSO BREAK APART. THEY SWIM IN THE SEA OF MEMORY, OF THE PAST, OF LOSS, OF UNFINDABILITY. EVEN THEIR WORMS DON'T WANT TO BREAK APART WITH THEM. WORMS ARE UNUSUALLY LOYAL. YOU CAN ALWAYS CATCH THEM. THEY MEET THE CRITERIA FOR THE "BOOKMARK" STATE...

I ALWAYS KNEW THAT "THEY" EXIST. EVER SINCE I HOPED TO FIND THEM. IN CHILDHOOD, WHEN I CAME HOME, I FELT THEIR PRESENCE AND SINCERELY SEARCHED EVERY CORNER. I EVEN PLANNED TO MOVE FROM ONE PLACE TO ANOTHER AND ACCORDINGLY ADJUSTED MY SEARCH TRAJECTORY. "THEY" USED TO BE GRACIOUS AND WOULD LET ME NOT FIND THEM THAT DAY.

FROM THESE LABYRINTHINE IMAGES, IT SOMETIMES SEEMS THAT MY BRAIN IS MELTING, LIKE A CHEEK AFTER A VISIT TO THE DENTIST. I'M ALL MELTED. AND MY BODY, TOO. AND MY VISION IS MELTED. AND MY HEARING IS MELTED. IT REACHES ME AS STRANGE ECHOES. I SEEM TO BE UNDER THE WATER. I FEEL LIKE A DOCTOR MADE A MISTAKE OR SIMPLY INJECTED NUMBING AGENTS THAT DON'T PRODUCE ANY SENSATION. THEN, IN THE FIELD OF VISION, ONLY FROZEN SIGNS REMAIN. THOSE SIGNS BOTH MEAN AND DO NOT MEAN AT THE SAME TIME.

OR PERHAPS THE TRACES OF A TIME LONG DEAD ARE ALL AROUND, AND THE "THEY" THAT TERRIFY US ARE OURSELVES, NOT RECOGNIZING THE FACES AFFECTED BY THE DISEASE?

THIS IS THE BOUNDARY OF KNOWLEDGE BEYOND KNOWLEDGE. THE IGNORANCE OF KNOWLEDGE IS A SIGN OF NEGATIVE MATTER. WE CANNOT COMPREHEND IT AND THEREFORE CANNOT CONTROL IT THROUGH THE EFFORTS OF WILL.

EVEN BEFORE CONSCIOUS CONTACT WITH "THEM," I USED TO HEAR "THEIR" SONGS IN THE FORM OF REAL VIBRATIONS. I STILL HEAR THEM VERY CLEARLY. IT'S LIKE A CONSTANT BACKGROUND NOISE, SIMILAR TO THE SOUND OF THE SEA, INDICATING THAT THE SEA IS NEARBY. I CONSTANTLY "HEAR" "THEIR" BREATHING ON MY BACK.

THAT BREATHING IS RHYTHMIC, AND IF NOT CONSCIOUSLY MONITORED, IT CONSISTS OF TEN BREATHS. AT THE SAME TIME, IT'S INTELLIGENT: IF YOU START FOLLOWING THE RHYTHM, IT CHANGES, MEANDERING AROUND, PLAYING A GAME OF "PREDICTABLE/UNPREDICTABLE." THIS GAME IS ENGAGING, INVITING YOU TO GUESS NEW COMBINATIONS, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, IT DISTANCES ITSELF BECAUSE IT'S CHILLY. IT LURES YOU TO COME CLOSER, BUT IT DOESN'T HIDE THAT IT'S A GATEWAY TO SOMETHING IRREVERSIBLE. ONE MORE STEP, AND THERE'S ALREADY AN EVENT ON THE HORIZON - BEYOND THE LIMIT, FROM WHERE THERE IS NO RETURN. "THEY" EMBRACE YOU, LIKE BLACK HOLES ENGULF EVERYTHING THAT CROSSES THEIR PERILOUS BOUNDARY.

THE UNREPRESENTABLE SPACE OF THE PRIMARY MEANING CANNOT BE DEFINED IN ANY WAY, EXCEPT THROUGH THE NETWORK OF COMMUNICATION FORMED BY SEMIOTIC SPACES WITH LIMITED POSSIBILITIES. THE SEMIOTIC NETWORK, IN ORDER TO HAVE CONTACT WITH THE PRIMARY MEANING, HAS TO CUT INTO IT. BY REPRESENTING ITSELF THROUGH INCISIONS IN THE NETWORK, THE PRIMARY MEANING IS REPRESENTED FRAGMENTARILY, RESULTING IN DISTORTIONS PERCEIVED BY THE OBSERVER AS A STATE OF DISTORTED MEANING.

THE LOCATIONS OF NETWORK INCISIONS EXPERIENCE INADEQUATE TENSION. THIS TENSION CAN BE RELIEVED BY CHANGING THE NETWORK/INCISION POSITIONS. THIS IS HOW THE METHOD OF REPRESSIVE STRUCTURES WORKS, BY RELEASING TENSION NOT BY REDUCING PRESSURE BUT BY SHIFTING THE NETWORK. ART, BY COPYING THE METHODS OF POWER STRUCTURES, BY REPRESENTING THE UNINCISED PLACES, SUPPRESSES THE VERY SYSTEMS. THE PROCESS DOES NOT ELIMINATE THE DISTORTION OF MEANING, BUT IT EXPANDS THE SPECTRUM OF PERCEPTION WITH INTANGIBLE YET PERCEPTIBLE MEANINGS.

THE CRACKS INTO NEGATIVE MATTER ARE THE FOLDING OF OTHERNESS. ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE, THERE IS NOTHING BECAUSE EVERYTHING WE KNOW IS ON THIS SIDE. IT'S LIKE WANTING TO TOUCH SOMETHING BUT, NOT KNOWING WHAT TO EXPECT, YOU HOPE TO FEEL NOTHING. BUT IN THE PAST, THERE WAS SIMPLY NOTHING...

YOU SIMPLY LIE WHEN TELLING AND ELEVATING YOUR TRUTHS. LIES ARE ALSO NECESSARY. HOW DID YOU, BEING SO CREATIVE AND MODERN, NOT NOTICE THAT FRANKENSTEIN CAN ALSO BE ALIVE? YOU YOURSELVES ARE PROOF OF THAT. THOSE ETERNAL EXPECTATIONS FROM ALL SIDES ARE LIKE FLIES! I DON'T WANT TO SATISFY ANYONE'S EXPECTATIONS. EXCESSIVE GOODNESS SUPPRESSES THE MOST. ONLY WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING GOOD, YOU END UP IN THE GOOD PEOPLE'S CATEGORY. THOSE "GOOD" PEOPLE ARE NOT CONVINCING, TRUSTWORTHY INDIVIDUALS. YOU SHOULD PILE AS MANY EXPECTATIONS ON THEM AS POSSIBLE. IT'S GOOD TO WORK WITH THEM BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. THEY TRUST YOU THROUGH SUBTLE BLACKMAIL.

THE FIGHT BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL HAS EXHAUSTED EVERYONE FOR A LONG TIME. EVIL IS ALWAYS STRONGER, AND GOOD ALWAYS CONQUERS ALL BUT NOT EVIL BECAUSE IT IS STRONGER. THIS FIGHT, LIKE ITCHING, WILL NEVER END. SCRATCHES, SCRATCHES, UNTIL IT BLEEDS...

I AM ATTRACTED TO BECOMING A BIT EVIL. VERY, VERY SLOWLY, SAVORING IT SO THAT NO ONE NOTICES. I MUST BE ESPECIALLY CAREFUL NOT TO BE NOTICED BY GOODNESS. I DON'T WANT IT TO RETURN. I LIKE TO BE SLIGHTLY ROTTEN FROM GOODNESS, TENDERNESS, AND WARMTH FROM THE INSIDE.

THEN (UNTIL THE IMPORT PACKAGES), THERE WAS NOTHING. NOW, A LOT OF EVERYTHING HAS PILED UP AND SETTLED DOWN... WE SEPARATE WHAT DOES NOT BELONG TOGETHER, BUT "THEY" DON'T NOTICE ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T RECEIVE PACKAGES. THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE AN ADDRESS.

LET ME LOOK INTO YOUR THROAT. WHEN YOU OPEN WIDE, KEEP IN MIND THAT THE THROAT, BY COMING TO THE SURFACE, CAN SWALLOW YOU. IF YOU'RE NOT AFRAID, EVERYTHING IN YOUR THROAT WILL COME TO THE SURFACE. AND THAT'S GOOD, YOUR INSIDES CAN SERVE EXHIBITIONS, TRUTH, SHOCK, REVENGE, VARIOUS PUBLIC RELATIONS OPERATIONS AIMED AT TRANSFORMING REPUTATIONS. ONCE THE THROAT IS EXPOSED, IT WILL MOST LIKELY DIE BECAUSE IT'S NOT USED TO BEING OUTSIDE. HOWEVER, THE EFFECT OF A DRIED-UP THROAT CAN SOMETIMES BE EXACTLY WHAT IS NEEDED. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS TO PROVIDE THE AUDIENCE WITH VIEWS AND EXPERIENCES. THE ARTIST'S FREEDOM IS MANIFESTED IN HIS ABILITY TO CALIBRATE MICROCLIMATE POTENTIOMETERS FREELY. IT'S INEXPENSIVE TO MOISTEN EVEN WET THROATS.
 

RUMBLING THOSE FACTORY RAIDERS ON THE ROOFTOP OF THE ABANDONED VILNIUS MEAT COMBINE AT THE END OF SAVANORIŲ PROSPEKTAS. ALTHOUGH IT'S LONG SINCE BEEN DESERTED, IT STILL RESONATES WITH WHAT HAPPENED THERE TWENTY YEARS AGO. THAT'S HOW I HEAR THAT ECHOING SOUND OF CAPTURE AND MILLING MACHINES – YOU WOULD NEVER TELL FROM THE OUTSIDE THAT IT STILL OPERATES TODAY... ENTERING INSIDE, YOU ENTER THE SYSTEM FROM WHICH YOU WILL EMERGE ORDERLY... PIECE BY PIECE...

A COMBINE - SUCH A GROUP OF COMPANIES WHOSE PRODUCTION BECOMES THE RAW MATERIAL FOR ANOTHER. THE PRODUCTION MUST MEET QUALITY STANDARDS TO TRANSITION TO ANOTHER COMPANY AND SERVE AS RAW MATERIAL FOR IT. PRODUCTION THAT DOESN'T MEET STANDARDS IS DISCARDED, AND THE "LUCKY ONES" TRAVEL FURTHER ON THIS TERROR CHAMBER'S CARRIAGE AND ARE PREPARED FOR THE NEXT STAGE. THE PARTS OF THE COMBINE, IT SEEMS, WORK ONE FOR THE OTHER - ONE PART IS INTERESTING TO THE OTHER ONLY AS MUCH AS IT IS SUITABLE FOR FURTHER PRODUCTION.

MY MOTHER IS VERY CARING. HYPER-CAREFUL. SHE ALWAYS KNOWS IF I'M COLD OR HUNGRY, BUT SHE NEVER SEES ME. SHE RAISED ME WITH HER BACK TURNED TO ME. I NEVER SAW HER FACE. EVEN THOUGH SHE WORKS A LOT WITH HER HANDS, I WONDER HOW SHE DOESN'T GET DIZZY - AFTER ALL, HER HEAD AND ENTIRE BODY ARE TURNED. I ONLY SEE HER BACK AND THE HANDS THAT CAREFULLY CHECK THE WARMTH OF MY NOSE. I HAVE TO ANSWER MECHANICAL QUESTIONS WAITING ONLY FOR POSITIVE ANSWERS ABOUT HOW THINGS ARE GOING. THINGS MUST BE GOING WELL. NOTHING I DO SHOULD MAKE HER LOOK AT ME. ANYWAY, SHE WON'T LOOK, SHE WILL ONLY GET ANGRY AND TURN AWAY EVEN MORE. SO THAT SHE DOESN'T SEE.

I KNOW WHY IT'S LIKE THIS. I UNDERSTAND HER. SHE CAN'T TAKE HER EYES OFF THE OTHER OBJECT SHE GUARDS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF GAZE SHE HAS TOWARDS IT (SINCE SHE'S TURNED AWAY). IS IT A LONGING GAZE, A GAZE OF GUILT, OR PERHAPS A GAZE OF BLAME OR UNFULFILLED HOPES? TO HER, THAT'S WHAT MATTERS.

THOSE BRIDGES TEMPT ME TO FALL OVER THE FENCE. THEY LOOK AT ME WITH OUTSTRETCHED HANDS, AND I REMAIN POLITICALLY CORRECT AND DO NOT JUMP. LIKE STUCK MIDDLES. I DISAPPOINT MYSELF. SO UNINTERESTING. ALTERNATIVE BEHAVIOR OPTIONS ARE ALWAYS OPEN, AND SOMEONE ASSUMES THAT THEY WILL NOT BE TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF. I DON'T WANT TO JUSTIFY ANYONE'S EXPECTATIONS AND NORMS. I WANT TO EITHER JUMP INTO OBSCURITY OR REMAIN A REMNANT OF THE PARTY. MAYBE THEN SHE WILL NOTICE ME?

I LIE STILL IN BED - PRETENDING TO SLEEP. I DON'T WANT THE ONE UNDER THE BED TO REALIZE THAT I KNOW ABOUT IT. IT JUST WAITS FOR ME TO LOWER MY LEG TO THE GROUND...

I KNOW I HAVE TO THINK ABOUT "IT" AND NOT ASSUME THAT I WON'T ENCOUNTER IT IN MY MIND. THEIR RADARS RECORD EVERYTHING. NO WONDER "IT" DOESN'T REVEAL ITSELF KNOWING THAT I KNOW ABOUT IT.

NOW DERRIDA LIVES IN MY BATHROOM. HE'S EMBEDDED IN A BAR OF SOAP, WHICH I CAN'T CATCH. I KEEP TRYING AND TRYING, BUT HE SLIPS AWAY, SLIPS AWAY, UNTIL I DISSOLVE HIM WITH MY OWN HANDS. NOW HE HAS DISSOLVED IN A SWIRLING STREAM OF ESCAPING WATER, KNOWING THAT HE'S DRAWN ME INTO HIS EXCITING GAME, TRYING TO PICK ME APART PIECE BY PIECE. THE WATER KEEPS CIRCLING, AND IT SEEMS LIKE THE ENTIRE BACKWATER HAS VANISHED. I'M HAPPY TO BE A PART OF IT, HOPING THAT THE SOLUTION WILL COME ANY MOMENT, HOPING TO DISSOLVE ALONG WITH IT. BUT I JUST SWIRL ON THE SURFACE, UNABLE TO DIVE. I DON'T KNOW WHY I SUDDENLY FEEL A PLEASANT SWEETNESS IN MY MOUTH, REALIZING THAT THIS IS NOT A SOLUTION - THE BACKWATER HAS NO END.

I SEE REPRESSION PRACTICALLY EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME. EXCEPT WHEN I'M ASLEEP. I SLEEP LITTLE AND BADLY, SO MY SENSITIVITY TO REPRESSION IS HIGH. THE ENVIRONMENT CONSTANTLY EXERTS PRESSURE ON ME, REGARDLESS OF WHAT IT IS, CONSTANTLY PRESSURING AND MANIPULATING MY LIFE. THERE ARE NEVER ANY FUTURE ASPIRATIONS OR DREAMS LEFT, ONLY THE SATISFACTION OF EXPECTATIONS IN THE PRESENT OR ACTIONS TO AFFIRM CONFIDENCE IN THE PAST. NO ONE WOULD EVER THINK THAT "THEY" ALSO HAD TOOLS. THEY ARE ALL MANUFACTURED IN THE "FOR YOUR SAFETY" FACTORY.

FLASHFORWARD, ONE ROLE IN THE "REAL WORLD" FOLLOWS ANOTHER. I ALWAYS FOLLOW THE DIRECTIVES OF THE ENVIRONMENTAL DIRECTORS, ALTHOUGH I KNOW THAT EVEN THOSE DIRECTORS AREN'T REAL, BUT THEY'RE SO GOOD AT GETTING INTO CHARACTER THAT THEY NOT ONLY BELIEVE WHAT THEY'RE DOING... I BELIEVE THEM TOO. SIMILARLY, AS YOU ARE NOW - YOU PRACTICALLY BECOME MY FOUNDATIONAL BELIEFS. YOU SUPPLY ME WITH ENOUGH UNFORGETTABLE TRACES OF THIS SLIPPERY DREAM. AND "THEY" - THE REAL "THEY" - ARE PASSIVELY TUCKED AWAY IN NON-MOVING IMAGES, SILENTLY AND CALMLY HANGING ON THE WALLS.

I HAVE TO SAY, YOU'VE DISAPPOINTED ME. YOU FELL FACE DOWN IN THE MUD AS YOU SHOULD HAVE! YOU HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO SUCCEED! YOUR VISION AND THE PORTRAIT YOU DECLARED WERE SO WONDERFUL, BUT YOU JUST COULDN'T WAKE UP FROM YOUR SLUMBER... YOUR WEAKNESS IS SO HUGE THAT YOU DARE NOT REMOVE THE BLINDFOLD AND LET IN FRESH AIR. HAVEN'T YOU SUFFOCATED YET? OR MAYBE YOU'RE ALREADY SUFFOCATING? IT'S A GOOD THING I CAME. OTHERWISE, I WOULD STILL BELIEVE IN YOUR GRANDEUR.

IT SEEMS THAT GOODNESS AND MORALITY ONLY EXIST IN ONE COPY AND CAN ONLY BE EXPRESSED IN ONE DIMENSION: EITHER YOU DECLARE, OR YOU APPEAR, OR YOU ARE. THE MORE ONE MANIFESTS, THE LESS THERE IS OF THE OTHER.

FOR MANY YEARS NOW, I'VE BEEN HAUNTED BY THE IMAGE OF A RED HOT LAVA-COVERED PARCHMENT-COVERED WELL. IT'S RIGHT THERE, COVERING 60% OF MY FIELD OF VISION, SITUATED TO THE RIGHT. THE WELL FLIRTS WITH ME, INVITING ME TO TEAR THE PARCHMENT AND DIVE INTO THE DEPTHS. INSIDE, I FIND NOT BURNING LAVA AS I THOUGHT FOR MANY YEARS, CONTEMPLATING HOW IT DOESN'T BURN THROUGH THE PARCHMENT SURFACE. BENEATH IT, IT TURNS OUT, THERE IS A SEA OF RED FLESH WITH PULSATING VEINS. IT'S SO SATISFYING TO PLUNGE INTO THE WARM, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY COOL MASS AND DISAPPEAR INTO THE DEPTH. WITH MY OPEN THROAT, I DRAW PIECES OF BLOODY FLESH INTO MYSELF AND NO LONGER UNDERSTAND WHERE THE OUTSIDE ENDS AND WHERE THE INSIDE BEGINS. MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD MERGE WITH THE CONTENTS, PLEASANTLY BRUSHING AGAINST THE SKIN. AT THAT MOMENT, I SWALLOW THE BLOODY FILLING, AND I FEEL REJUVENATED.

HOWEVER, I WAS ALREADY QUITE DEHYDRATED. FOR MANY YEARS, I HAD BEEN LYING ON MY BACK, PRESSED TO THE PARCHMENT-COVERED SURFACE OF THE WELL, WITHOUT DARING TO PLUNGE, CONTENT WITH HANGING BY THE SURFACE OF MY SKIN. AS I FEED ON FLESH, I NOTICE THAT I TURN INTO A BLACK BALL, SIMILAR TO A DUNG BEETLE, SHINY, CRUNCHY, BLACK BALL. I NOTICE THAT AROUND ME, PILES OF OTHER DUNG BEETLES ARE CRAWLING, AND WE ALL INHALE THE ATMOSPHERE FILLED WITH BLOODY-FILLED FLESH. SUDDENLY, I REALIZE THAT I HAVE GROWN VERY LARGE. AS LARGE AS A GLOBE. I'VE BECOME A GLOBE OF THE EARTH. AROUND ME IS NOTHING BUT SPACE, FULL OF STARS.

... WITHOUT STOPPING TO EAT THAT FLESH, IT BURSTS, BURSTS, AND OF COURSE, THE EARTH'S GLOBE DOES TOO. I SCATTER ACROSS THE ENTIRE COSMOS. I REALIZE THAT I'M NO LONGER THERE - I'VE DISPERSED AMONG THOSE STARS. THEY ARE MY BODY. AS I FEAST MY EYES ON THE SIGHT, I NOTICE THAT ALL THE STARS I HAVE SPREAD TO ARE GRADUALLY, ONE AFTER ANOTHER, EXTINGUISHING - AFTER ALL, SPACE IS STILL INFINITE.

I NEED TO CHANGE THE SCENARIO, OTHERWISE, I WILL COMPLETELY FADE AWAY.

SO: NOW I'M SURROUNDED BY A DARK BLUE, STARRY, COOL SPACE, AND I STAND ON THE UPPER SURFACE OF A WHITE, INFINITELY THIN COLUMN WITH A DIAMETER OF 15 CM. I DON'T SEE WHAT THE TOWER IS LEANING ON, BUT I INTUITIVELY KNOW THAT IT LEANS ON THE GROUND (IN THIS VERSION, IT DIDN'T EXPLODE). THIS COLUMN, LIKE A GIANT SWIZZLE STICK, FEEDS ME WITH BLOODY MEAT. THE BLOOD NOW HEAVILY FLOWS INTO MY MOUTH. I SWALLOW IT WITH THIRSTY STRENGTH. I FEEL IT FILLING ME. SMILING WITH MY BACK STRETCHED OUT, HEAD LIFTED, I WATCH THE STARS THAT ARE NO LONGER DISAPPEARING. THEY ALL SHINE FOR ME, CHEERING ME UP, CALMING ME DOWN, TELLING ME THAT THERE'S NO NEED TO HURRY ANYWHERE. FINALLY, I HAVE ARRIVED.

NOW I CAN RELEASE MY THROAT AND POET. I THINK SHE WOULD REALLY ENJOY THIS GAME. "AN ARTIST BALANCES ON THE SURFACE OF IRON," SHE SAID. SHE LOVED DRAMA, SO HERE YOU CAN EMBELLISH A BIT WITH IRON, BETTER STILL, ADD A FEW BUMPS - PRINT WITHOUT DAMAGING THE SURFACE OF THE SKIN. IT'S ALWAYS BETTER TO LEAVE SOMETHING FOR THE FUTURE, TO STIMULATE MOTIVATION. THEN THE GAME OF BALANCING PAIN AND PLEASURE CAN BE STRETCHED OUT. SHE REALLY DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING. IN ANY CASE, IT'S A BIT ANNOYING TO THEM. EVEN CAUSES THEM ANNOYANCE. THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT I AM AMUSED BY THEM THIS WAY. OTHERWISE, THEY WOULD JUST SULK, SO MOVING IS ALWAYS BETTER.

SO, HERE IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SATIATED DUNG BEETLES AND THOSE WHO ONLY WAIT: THE FORMER ARE LED BY INSTINCT, NO MATTER HOW DISGUSTING IT MAY BE, BUT IT'S SO SWEET, WHILE THE LATTER, HANGING ON WHERE THEY CLUNG, ARE DETERMINED BY THE CURRENT. HOWEVER, IT'S ANNOYING THAT IT'S EXACTLY UNCLEAR ON WHICH SIDE OF THE BARRICADES THE AUTHOR IS. IT'S UNCLEAR WHICH SHELF TO PUT IT ON.

SUCH NONSENSE WORKS LIKE A CUBE OF SUGAR THROWN INTO AN ANT HILL. IS THERE REALLY A LOGICAL EXPLANATION FOR THIS? BECAUSE IT'S CERTAINLY NOT CLEAR! CAN YOU FINALLY ACT WITH DIGNITY AND CREATE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL?" 


STAYING SILENT AND NOT SCRATCHING THE EYES. IN GENERAL, IF YOU QUIETLY KNOW YOUR PLACE, YOU CAN BE PRACTICALLY ANYWHERE YOU WANT. 'MONUMENTS DON'T TALK, SO THEY CAN GO UNNOTICED.' YOU, MOST LIKELY, WILL LOVE IT.

I REMEMBER ONCE I WROTE A MEMOIR FOR A CULTURAL PUBLICATION COLUMN. I WROTE A MEMOIR ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP WITH MY CHILDHOOD FEARS AND THE GAMES I PLAYED WITH THEM, ABOUT HOW THOSE FEARS FADED AS I GREW UP, CHANGED, AND HOW WE GREW TIRED OF EACH OTHER, HOW WE WERE NO LONGER INTERESTED...

I REMEMBER HOW THE MEMOIR DIDN'T PLEASE THE EDITORS. I WAS ASKED TO WRITE ANOTHER ONE. SO I DID – AFTER ALL, MEMORIES ARE BORN EVERY DAY – EVERY DAY I CAPTURE THE BOUNDARIES OF AN ARTIST'S FREEDOM, LITERATURE, AND THE LIMITS OF ART. SOMETIMES THEY ARE NOT PLEASANT AND ALLOW ME TO FEEL THEM.

I LIKE THE CENTRAL PERSPECTIVE. YOU CAN LOOK STRAIGHT INTO THE EYES OF CENTERED THINGS.

I WANT TO WRITE AN ODE TO BETRAYAL. IT WOULD HELP ME BETRAY ALL THE TRASH I'M COVERED IN. AND YOU ARE THAT TRASH WITH WHICH YOU ARE COVERED. YOU ARE COVERED WITH YOURSELVES. YOU EMIT YOUR UNPLEASANT SMELL AND DON'T WANT TO DISTANCE YOURSELVES FROM IT. YOU WANT ME TO BE INFECTED, TOO. IF YOU LACK STICKINESS, YOU SWARM, HOPING THAT THESE SWARMS WILL UNITE YOU INTO A CRITICAL MASS, AND THAT WAY, YOU WILL BECOME BIGGER. THE TRAITORS ARE UNITED. HAVING AMPUTATED THEIR LIMBS, THEY INEVITABLY GENERATE SUBSTANCES THAT WILL COVER THEM.

WHEN SOMEONE TRUSTS YOU, IT'S SWEET AND YET CHALLENGING. IT'S PLEASANT TO BE APPRECIATED (USUALLY FOR SOMETHING YOU'VE DONE), BUT AT THE SAME TIME, YOU REALIZE THAT YOU NOW HAVE TO SATISFY EVEN HIGHER EXPECTATIONS.

AN AUTONOMOUS ARTIST DOESN'T FOLLOW THE NORM. IF THE NORM IS TO BE DIFFERENT, THEN YOU HAVE TO BE IN THE NORM. HOWEVER, AN AUTONOMOUS ARTIST CAN CHOOSE FREELY. CHOOSE TO BE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE OR BE DIFFERENT. CHOOSE TO BE OR NOT TO BE AUTONOMOUS. IF THEY ARE FREE, CAN THEY ONLY BE AUTONOMOUS, RIGHT? EVERY ARTIST KNOWS HOW MUCH ART IS IN THEIR CREATIONS.

IT'S QUITE NICE TO BE INCLUDED IN THE CITIZENS' REGISTER. ALTHOUGH I BELONGED TO SOMEONE. IT'S NOT EVEN STRANGE THAT SOMEONE RECOGNIZES ME ON THE STREET, NOT EVEN KNOWING, BUT ASSUMING THAT I HAVE A NAME AND A SURNAME, THAT I HAVE A FAMILY AND CHILDREN – THEY ASSIGN MEANING TO ME AS AN INDIVIDUAL. THEY STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I THINK. THEY BELIEVE. A MEASURING GLANCE DOESN'T GET STUCK LIKE A SPLINTER IN THE SYSTEM; IT ALLOWS IT TO SLIP THROUGH OTHERS, WHO ARE LOOKING FOR NORMS THAT MATCH MORE CLOSELY. IT'S IMPORTANT NOT TO STAND OUT FROM THE LINEUP.

'WE WISH YOU HEALTH FOR THOSE WHO ENTERED HERE.'

I'M INTERESTED IN ANXIETY – A CONSTANT SENSE OF LOOMING DANGER NEARBY. IT'S LIKE KNOWING THAT POSSIBLE THREATENING EVENTS ARE 'GATHERED' AROUND AND MONITORING MY LIFE. I HAVE TO MONITOR 'THEM,' AND I DO. SOMEHOW, I BELIEVE THAT MY OBSERVATION PREVENTS 'THEM' FROM ACTING. I SEE A THREAT, SOMEWHAT SIMILAR TO MADNESS, SCHIZOPHRENIA, IN FAMILIAR AND UNFAMILIAR FACES, LOCATIONS.

THEIR 'DISEASE' SUDDENLY OPENS: IT'S LIKE GAINING INSIGHT FOR A MOMENT, AND THEN THE VIEW RETURNS TO THE USUAL. BUT I ALREADY KNOW THE SECRET DEPENDENCE OF 'THEM' ON THE WORLD OF DEMONS. THE IMAGES SOMEWHAT RESEMBLE PUZZLES OR A DREAM. MY 'HEROES,' OF WHICH THERE ARE MORE AND MORE, LIKE STAMPS IN A COLLECTOR'S ALBUM, FORM COMMON COMBINATIONS OF POTENTIAL THREATENING EVENTS AMONG THEMSELVES. I WANT TO EXTRACT THESE SECRET AGENTS OF DEMONS FROM THE METAPHYSICAL 'SECRET' SPACE INTO THE DAYLIGHT (CANVAS), SO I PORTRAY THEM. I WANT TO UNMASK 'THEM,' LOOK INTO THEIR EYES. THE MORE I TRY TO DESCRIBE 'THEM' REALISTICALLY, I SUDDENLY NOTICE THAT THEY HIDE AGAIN... I'M LOOKING FOR THOSE 'TEN DIFFERENCES' IN THEIR FACES – MY WITNESSES OF KNOWLEDGE...

BUT THE MOST BITTER WOULD BE TO TOUCH THE SHRIMP. THEIR EYES – I DON'T KNOW HOW THEY ARE ATTACHED TO THE BODY – ARE SUCH SMALL BALLS THAT YOU CAN EASILY DETACH THEM BY ACCIDENT. ON THE OTHER HAND, THEY DON'T REALLY NEED TO SEE. THEY IMAGINE THEMSELVES TO BE MESSENGERS. SHRIMPS ARE NOT AFRAID TO BE CAUGHT, EVEN IN THE DARK. IT'S CHEAP FOR THEM – THEIR ARMS ARE SHORT, ANYWAY, YOU WON'T NOTICE ANYTHING. THERE ARE NO MESSENGERS HERE, IN THE DARK. AND WHEN YOU RECEIVE A MESSENGER, EVERYTHING BECOMES CLEARER, YOU CAN WRITE SOMETHING... YOU CAN, BUT IT'S NOT WORTH IT BECAUSE SHRIMP PEDESTALS ARE VERY NARROW. THERE'S NO POINT IN MEMORIALIZING.

AND YOU – YOU DON'T HAVE PATIENCE, AND YOU CAN'T STAND IRREGULARITY. YOUR SHINING BANNERS SCRATCH THE EYES. YOU CREEP LIKE SOME SORT OF LOUSE. IT WAS BETTER WHEN THERE WAS NOTHING. YOU NEED TO BE PURGED. HOW CAN ONE BE SO INCOMPREHENSIBLE AND VULGAR?

 

WE AIM FOR YOU TO BE MORE THAN SATISFIED WITH YOUR PURCHASES. IF, FOR ANY REASON, THIS IS NOT THE CASE, YOU CAN RETURN UNUSED AND UNASSEMBLED ITEMS IN THEIR ORIGINAL PACKAGING WITHIN A 30-DAY PERIOD FROM THEIR DELIVERY."

OR CAN YOU SAY THAT SHORT PRAYER BACKWARDS? YOU SHOULD BE GOOD AT YOUR PRAYERS. PLEASE DON'T DRINK IN FRONT OF MY WINDOW. YOU BLOCKED THE VIEW AND LOOKED RUDE. AND DON'T RUSH ME. AND DON'T PEEK.

HERE I UNDERSTAND THAT MY VALUE CORRESPONDS TO THE VALUE OF THE MATERIAL I PRODUCE. AND 'YOU' ARE QUALITY CONTROL SYSTEMS, CONSTANTLY MEASURING DEVIATIONS FROM THE REQUIRED STANDARD. WHO WANTS TO BE BROKEN AND FALL OUT OF THE GAME?

IF TRUTH BE TOLD, MY MOTHER FORGOT TO TAKE ME OUT OF THE BED. SO I STAYED AT HOME. MY BONES GREW, AND I'M STILL IN THAT BED. I FEEL SO HEAVY THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF ANYONE CAN TAKE ME OUT OF THERE ANYMORE. AND THE BIRTHPLACE IS CLOSED FOR A LONG TIME. I DIDN'T NOTICE WHEN I STARTED TO ENJOY THIS STATE. IT'S SO GOOD TO BE FORGOTTEN. NO ONE EXPECTS ANYTHING FROM YOU, AND IF THERE ARE STILL SOME EXPECTATIONS, THEY ARE MOST LIKELY RELATED TO NOT BOTHERING YOU. FINALLY, I HAVE MY OWN ROOM.

AND AS FOR THEM, DON'T WORRY, THEY'LL WRITE SOMETHING ANYWAY. IT'S BETTER NOT TO DISTURB THEM."




[1] Eglė Grėbliauskaitė, KOMBINATAS, an installation made from the letters of the Soviet Vilnius Meat Combine sign, a square in front of the old Vilnius Academy of Arts building, Maironio Street 6, Vilnius, 2015, Eglė Grėbliauskaitė's website, accessed on July 19, 2021, http://www.eglegrebliauskaite.com/Egle_Grebliauskaite/DESINFORMATION.html.

[2] Salomėja Nėris, Writings (Vilnius: Vaga, 1984).

[3] Agnė Narušytė, "About the spine, Eglė Grėbliauskaitė's installation in Vilnius 'Hitting a Cold Wall from Her Dream,' 7 meno dienos, No. 39 (1276), November 30, 2018, https://www.7md.lt/tarp_disciplinu/2018-11-30/Apie-stubura.

[4] Sign in the window of the Naugarduko Street pharmacy.

[5] "Game Tables for Active Leisure" website, accessed on March 25, 2021, https://www.zaidimustalai.lt/pulo-stalas-bilaro-q15-8-pedu-242x131cm-zalias-audinys-su-komplektacija.html.