﻿WEBVTT

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I’d like to think

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(it has to be!)

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of a cybernetic ecology

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where measuring and piling,

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where the reason and the unknown,

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the light and the darkness,

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would all live in harmony

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in a smooth and chaotic space.

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Measuring and piling

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Fiction and reality

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The common space of time has become history.

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Reality or fiction,

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whatever its name.

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This Mythical Animal has two heads,

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one messy, fluid and chaotic,

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the other rational, measured and quantified.

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Perceptive measurement,

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measurement of the imperceptible.

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To measure to understand,

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to measure to act.

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To measure to progress,

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to measure to win.

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To measure for nothing,

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to measure to be.

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To be measured to be estimated.

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The pile remains what is underestimated.

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It is the shape every object takes, at the edge of our world,

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whether unexplored or rejected.

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The pile is in between,

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it doesn't count.

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It is a ghostly amorphous object,

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that sometimes comes to haunt us.

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Neither dead nor alive, waiting.

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God is reflecting a meaning-seeking humanity,

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afraid of the chaotic depths that surround it.

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He is mankind's ideal,

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his image above the world.

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He is the organizing eye and hand of reality.

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It is a reality that becomes fiction,

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a fiction that becomes real,

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an infinite wormhole of one inclusion within the other.

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It is the emergence of an order,

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of an <i>immanence-transcendence</i>

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that questions humanity.

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It is seeking for a logic and morality,

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a measure and standard.

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<i>God is dead.</i>

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Our civilizations were designed

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as a transformation of chaos into order.

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From divine logic,

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we've moved on to pure reason,

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then to finance.

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But fighting chaos only feeds it.

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The single vanishing point of the Renaissance

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explodes in the Baroque era,

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giving way to an excess of signs,

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and loss of meaning.

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With geographic and scientific discoveries,

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the boundaries of the world are expanding,

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and rationality prevails.

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The progress of modernity objectifies nature

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as a market product.

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Economics is based on measurability,

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time, labor, value.

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Relationships now broken,

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broken metric system.

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Too much complexity,

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automated tempo,

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self-regulated order,

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chaos everywhere sown.

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The pace is steady

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the bodies are laid bare.

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Means for representation,

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imitation tool,

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from the mirror to the black box

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the world is a spectator of its own representation.

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It is a shuttled conquest

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towards a crumbling value system

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where the sliced time

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turns into monetized data.

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Fusion of reality with fictional grids.

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We live in what we can count,

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and the existence of a reality

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is paradoxically due to its own quantification.

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The encyclopaedia already revealed the ambition

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of reducing areas of piling,

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to bring them into the enlightened zone

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of what is measurable and quantifiable.

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Flattening and compiling an intellectualized reality was its aim.

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This meticulous research,

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which does not born real but becomes real,

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acts like a mirror,

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more or less true to its subject.

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The measure is a reflection.

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The body is duplicated, externalized,

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the perception of the self is transformed,

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the pile becomes an object.

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To name is to bring to existence,

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to define a framework to grasp a meaning.

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For its own part, the computer is from a different nature,

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a discontinuous mirage of the world,

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that doesn't just mirror.

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It imitates its process, deconstructs its genesis,

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calculates and represents its appearance.

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It takes over and covers the world

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of its captured, instantaneous image.

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In its representation,

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the uniqueness of the world disappears.

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It becomes multiple, amorphous, discontinuous,

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a pile of piles, atomized by a discrete language,

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a reflection of our own language,

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of our own alphabetized thinking.

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But the world is neither continuous nor discrete

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maybe it’s worth reminding it.

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The continuous is a cognitive and mathematical filling

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that's imposing itself on the world to organize it.

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The continuous is the backdrop,

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the surface or the line,

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where our gaze is set,

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where the phenomenon and the object fit in.

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The role of our brain

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is to stabilize the forms of reality,

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to be able to act and move into it.

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Measurement is a modus operandi.

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For B, measurement is a convention

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which evolves as we measure

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and that reality follows.

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Reality is updated with the technology we have.

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For M, measurement, as well as the thought

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is a convention that is given

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and can be applied to any reality.

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Reality is contingent.

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H. also thinks it is independent

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and even elusive,

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especially the living.

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Because every non-inert being

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is a process of becoming,

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a change not reducible to one moment.

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Identity exists only in becoming,

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but the fluidity of the bodies becomes determined

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by the flow of the market and society.

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The pile is what's left to become,

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what's yet nothing.

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Marginalized movements seeking for a future,

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a set of left behind objects with no role, to be defined.

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It is the condition that generates real spaces,

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what precedes the measure and what is left of it.

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One is not the contrary of the other,

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but its opposite.

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One needs the other to exist.

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From the pied-du-roi to the meter,

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measurement is objectified with the French Revolution

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and the aspiration for more equality.

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The judgment is meant to be unbiased.

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It is the universality of the measure

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that opens access to a common world.

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But in the quest for an ideal,

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the measure brings excessiveness.

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The primary monolith

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growing into urbanity

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- a measured, controlled, striated environment -

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is an embodiment of this obsession.

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And the human, making himself useless to the world,

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is looking for his scattered, digitized identity.

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Its principles and laws

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are embodied by another cold, mechanical body,

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potentially more human than the human of tomorrow.

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It's as if he gave his whole self without keeping anything.

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What to do with this empty shell,

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crossed by insanely rapid flows?

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To breathe.

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Not to follow the imposed pace.

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To suspend the frames of intelligibility.

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To experiment, to tinker, to fail, to dream, to resist.

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To do an economy of logic,

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a logical economy, an ecology,

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a minimalistic measurement.

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To make of poetry like measurement,

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an excess, to access a common world.

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Measuring and piling, although distinct,

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mix in infinite ways.

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The pile is a piece of chaos washed up on our lands.
