Talking shit or Cut that crap OR Shit into gold

1. Like everything and every thing it's consisting of only one image, but the parameters are always changing... lol



2. Why in our world is a film like "The Lost Works and Masters" rejected by the "official" contemporary "art scene" to say "festival culture", when it is obvious for every artloving spectator with eyes in the heart that is is eye to eye with the most striking experimental films and most cosmick works of art? Stan, Maya, Ed, Bruce, Bruce, Dziga, Kenneth, Kurt, James, Hollis... et al. The music by Delia, she wrote it for us long before I was born. Stars. The greatest respect always to you ol' lady. Modern FEMALE genius and pioneer of electronic music, forced to die as an alcoholic wreck by life in a society that is all but DRUNKEN. WE TELL YOU THE ANSWER: It's rejected by nihilistic mediocrity because it reminds man that he's NOTHING. Not in a "religious", sociological or whatever sense like good or evil, precious or cheap etc. but simply NOTHING. That's what art tells in the best case, the transgression of creator and spectator, that there is no truth about "something", there's only truth about NOTHING. Maybe. Face your neat little soul, your bound little mind. There's nothing BUT acts of experience. Experiences can also be "religious", to all you nihilists, but it's transcending nothing, paradox hard to bear. The death of art is "des Todes Tod", fascism. OR, gold, to quote a YOUNG wise man: "They all seek their own existence, to assure their existence against that complete atomization into nothingness. Man cannot stand a meaningless life."

We once described the video as follows: "The structures of the human self are breaking at the dike of a fundamental solitude, and the dreams, the ephemeric visions of mind in its corporal mode are nothing but the traces of its broken shells, left behind on the shores of reason. They may be significant products of the unconscious but, what is more important, they are the blind testimonies of the only act that exists in nature, the act of breaking of reality that is the only reality as it appears. The feeling of that singular loneliness is the one desire of the illusive self, its symbolic relativity in a simultaneous space and time, the desert of being."

OR
as the gorgeous harpy puts it:
"PS What's the last thing to go through a mosquito's mind when it hits your windscreen? It's arse!"