strong>★ Gillman Barracks | Singapore | 2016

“Abdominal BASS Cavern Of A Stricken HEART”

"Across the desolate swamps of these military wastelands; today, you people are no longer maggots. You will emerge from your chrysalis, a new tautness of mind, from the deadly emanations of this performance. Your perforated sonar will scavenge on the acrid remains of swampland flesh and soul in concerto unison – accelerando! fortissimo! presto!… Behold, The Abdominal Bass Cavern of a Stricken Heart! Listen well, feast and fester, or turn on your heels and go back like a raven reincarnated in regret."

In collaboration with:

Lyon Sim, Abby L. Kahei, Mario Chan, Raeha

Music by: Vermillion Team (Fuzz Lee)

Text Editor \ Euginia Tan
Video Documentation \ Michy Witchy

Watch your blood the next time you are cut. Look at the blood. Depending on the size of the wound, you will not be able to see into the cut recess, but, instead, observe the pooled up blood —puffed— on the edges of your skin. Bring the wounded area up to eye level so you can see the elevation the blood pulls out from within your body and sits —suspended— until it spills over and down intact skin.

You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you
You let me complicate you

(Help me) I broke apart my insides
(Help me) I've got no soul to sell
(Help me) The only thing that works for me
Help me get away from myself

You cannot see into your own body because the draw of blood is always a permeable, yet opaque veil keeping the gaze from the source. Let us move past the figure of bleeding and into the figuration of participation.

Endless participation floods forth. Decor to the antecedentnal tendency. No, not just covering, ornamenting inside a just opened unpredictability. I like what Gerald Granel said: “It is always a detail, and nothing but a detail in the great immense population of things that provokes this infinitesimal suspension”.

I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God

You can have my isolation
You can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything

Taken to its detrimental end, I think of Aldous Huxley —high on mescaline— as he attempted to observe his observations of glints gathering on, say, the fluted lip of a golden chalice. He could never predict the wane of his interest during the relation. Therefore, responsibility is almost always on the opposite side of relation that ends the relation creating the positive unfulfillment of what we come to know as inspiration (in this case the lessening affects of mescaline).

(Help me) Tear down my reason
(Help me) It's your sex I can smell
(Help me) You make me perfect
Help me become somebody else

I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal

My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God

The inspired subject confuses his or her own agency within the relation to such a degree that she or he experiences a pleasure that would never be able to finish himself/herself off. When, in actuality, it is more accurate to say the subject could never be able to finish herself/himself off. It is a permissive could, taken for a possible would or, better still, a misinterpretation of one’s responsibility within a relation.

Through every forest, above the trees
Within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
You are the reason I stay alive

Lyrics from Closer by Nine Inch Nails

Text / Darren Tesar


Images/Video Credit: Monochromatic Pictures

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Trailer Version of Abdominal BASS Cavern Of A Stricken HEART
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