Cultural Discourse looks at a broad range of cultural issues.
23rd October 2019

New Book Out by John David Ebert and Mary Church: “Gravity Girl, Poetry”

John David Ebert’s new book of poetry, “Gravity Girl,” features art by the great Hypermodern artist Mary Church. Here are four excerpts from the book, which can be ordered from Amazon here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1798495368/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=gravity+girl+john+david+ebert&qid=1571795434&sr=8-1

 

 

 

 

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10th October 2019

Joker: A Review by John David Ebert

An anthropological type, according to Greek theoretician Cornelius Castoriadis, is a figure which typifies a world age. The Greek thinker of fifth century BC Athens, for instance, or the Hebrew prophet of the Old Testament are such figures. But in the age of Hypermodernity—which began in the middle of the 1990s—one of the primary anthropological types is that of the Dangerous Loner. The figure has its origins as a Precedental Event, however, back in 1966, when Charles Whitman climbed the Texas Tower at the University of Texas and, using a 6mm Remington rifle with a 4 power scope, proceeded to shoot and kill 13 people, while wounding 45 others.

From May of 1978 to April of 1995, Theodore J. Kaczynski sent out a total of sixteen bombs to various individuals who were all affiliated in one way or another with big science. The bombs killed three people and injured 23 others.

In 1980, Mark David Chapman put five bullets into the back of John Lennon, killing him in front of his own New York mansion. The following year, in 1981, John Hinckley, emulating Chapman in order to impress Jodie Foster, attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan. In 1997, Andrew Cunanan, in a more successful imitation of Chapman’s deed, shot Gianni Versace dead in front of his Miami mansion.

Each of these figures—with the exception of Whitman—was essentially declaring war against the phantoms, avatars and image ghosts generated by the electronic celebrity apparatus. In the case of Whitman, however, the target was the social order itself, and his Precedental Event was then “normalized” in April of 1999 when Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris killed thirteen people and wounded twenty-three others at Columbine High School. This was followed by Virginia Tech in 2007, Sandy Hook in 2012 and the Las Vegas shootings of 2017, each event echoing and normalizing Columbine, as well as surpassing it in the number of dead bodies and scale of horror.

No mere economic narrative of “class warfare” will suffice to explain these atrocities, since many of the shooters, such as the Columbine kids, came from wealthy backgrounds. Indeed, the Las Vegas shooter, Stephen Paddock, was a wealthy real estate businessman. So these deeds were not motivated by economic inequality. Something else entirely is going on here. Something having to do with signs, significance and the absence of meaningful narratives.

Which is precisely what Todd Phillips’ brilliant film Joker attempts to excavate through the semiotics of comic book mythology. The character of the Joker was invented in 1940 by Bill Finger and Jerry Robinson, and made his debut as Batman’s primary nemesis in issue #1 of Batman. Heath Ledger’s performance as Joker in the 2009 Christopher Nolan film The Dark Knight is legendary. Joaquin Phoenix’s portrayal, however, is in another category altogether.

Ignoring the conventions of the superhero genre entirely, Phillips centers his narrative—for the first time in the history of cinematic superheroes—on a super villain, and attempts to deepen and enrich the two-dimensional signifier of the Joker as a mere comic book character by giving him his own life story.

As the film opens, Joker is an individual named Arthur Fleck who is making his living as a clown, working for a small New York company which rents them out for birthdays, children’s hospitals, etc. A gang of youths steals his sign and then beats him up, leaving him squirming in agony in an alleyway. Fleck is the proverbial schlemihl for whom nothing goes right: he lives with his ailing mother in a tiny apartment. His social worker does not take him seriously and speaks condescendingly to him as he attempts to recount the emotional pain he is in. He is on a battery of six or seven psycho-pharmaceuticals which are doing him no good, as he explains to the social worker that he is never happy. Inevitably, funding for his social welfare program is cut and he is simply turned away, out on his own.

Fleck suffers from a mysterious condition—akin to Tourrettes syndrome—of laughing randomly, maniacally, and at inappropriate moments. He is socially awkward and no one wants to be around him. A fellow co-worker, after hearing about the beating that he took on the streets, gives him a .38 caliber revolver to protect himself. Fleck then makes the mistake of taking the gun with him to a gig at a children’s hospital, and while performing it falls out of his clown suit to the floor. He is fired immediately.

While riding the subway home, Fleck witnesses three well-dressed—and presumably drunken—men harassing a young girl. When he begins to laugh maniacally, their attention shifts to him and they begin beating him up. Fleck then pulls out his revolver and shoots two of them. The train stops and when the third man gets out, Fleck pursues him and slays him on the platform of the station. The violence, needless to say, is very satisfying to him.

The three men, as it turns out, were employees of Wayne Enterprises, and when the news of their slaying by a vigilante clown gets out, it inspires a wave of people donning clown masks and throwing protest rallies against big greedy businessmen like Thomas Wayne, Batman’s father (who is only a child at this point).

Joker tries to make it as a stand up comedian, but when he gets on stage, all he can do is laugh. His favorite late night talk show, The Murray Franklin Show—modeled upon Johnny Carson, of course—gets hold of a clip of Arthur’s debacle and makes fun of him on live television. Arthur, watching the clip from the bedside of his dying mother at the hospital, is simultaneously thrilled and chagrined. When he receives a telephone call from The Murray Franklin Show to come on—for the sole purpose of humiliating him—he is excited, but also nervous. He decides that he is going to shoot himself on live television and sits practicing with the revolver.

He then sits down to reinvent himself. He dies his hair green and paints his face white like a clown’s. He dresses in a smart suit with a vest and tie. And then—in a scene that will most assuredly become as iconic as the wind blowing Marilyn Monroe’s dress or the face of Jack Nicholson leering through the chopped open doorway in The Shining—he emerges from his apartment and, descending the steps that lead to the street, erupts into a full blown dance of lunatic joy. It is impossible to watch the scene without feeling goosebumps. Joker has been born. Arthur Fleck is gone. Forever.

In the green room while preparing for the show, Murray Franklin comes back to check in on him with network standards and practices. Fleck insists that since Murray called him a “joker,” that he be introduced as “Joker.” Murray agrees. He does not quite yet realize the situation he has gotten himself into.

On live television, Murray then introduces him and Joker comes out dancing, then seats himself in the primary guest chair beside Murray. He confesses to Murray that it was he who killed those three employees of Wayne Enterprises. Murray is shocked. The audience is shocked. Joker wants to tell a knock-knock joke, but Murray doesn’t want to hear it. However, Joker insists. Murray shrugs. Joker then pulls out the gun and instead of shooting himself, puts a bullet through Murray’s head on live television. Pandemonium ensues.

On the streets of the city of Gotham, protesters wearing clown masks are rioting and destroying the neighborhood. After retrieving him from the wrecked police car, the crowd of clowns raise Joker up and he climbs to his feet standing on the hood of the car, worshipped and apotheosized by his minions, a schlemihl no more.

Phillips’ film is a Hypermodern masterpiece that hones in on the aforementioned anthropological type of the Dangerous Loner. The postmodern forerunners—schlemihls like Charles Whitman, Marc David Chapman or John Hinckley—were anomalous exceptions to an anthropological type that has now, under the conditions of Hypermodernity, become the norm. Hypermodernity routinely produces what I would call “deontologized individuals,” that is to say, individuals who feel invisible and unrecognized within the digital meshwork of the electronic megamachine that surrounds them. Such individuals have come unplugged from all social formations whatsoever, and do not feel that they belong to part of a larger World Picture that takes them into account by giving them a satisfactory life narrative. They have no narratives–most of which were dismantled by postmodern deconstruction–and when there are no narratives to situate the human individual within a life that has meaning and purpose, nihilism follows. And nihilism inevitably attracts Violence as an attempt to try and fill the semiotic vacancy left by the absence of meaningful narratives. The Columbine kids were looking for a narrative and so, not finding one provided for them, resorted to an Act of Violence as a means of creating one for themselves that gave them a place of importance by scaling their self-images up to giant-sized proportions as figures of menacing Terror. This is also clearly evident in the Precedental Event of Charles Whitman ascending the Texas Tower—shaped like a huge letter “I”—in order to gigantify himself over all others down on the green below. Now he could no longer be ignored.

Violence, as Marshall McLuhan pointed out, is a quest for identity. It is no accident that most of the great world religions have come into being through founding acts of violence, whether we think of the Crucifixion of Christ, or Mohammad’s initial war against the Arabs of Mecca or the Hebrews’ violent conquest of Palestine after the Exodus.

On the microcosmic scale, individuals who commit such atrocities are attempting to render themselves visible within the context of a world order from which they feel excluded, even if it means ending their own lives in order to do so. Killing a celebrity—as Joker does—is one means of inscribing oneself into history. When Andrew Cunanan shot and killed Gianni Versace, he knew, just as well as Marc David Chapman knew when he shot John Lennon, that he would enter the history books in the role of a Judas, at least, if not that of a Christ.

The spree killer, though—and Joker brilliantly combines both semiotics—is looking to impact the social order by introducing into it a zone of what the German theoretician Heiner Muhlmann calls “maximal stress.” Maximal stress events, Muhlmann argues—such as the attempt of the Persians to conquer the Greeks—create and found a culture that is united through “maximal stress cooperation.” If successful, there follows a period of “rule formation” and normalization of the culture in which the initial acute stress is stored up as latent stress in cultural media such as books and rituals. The reenactment of the event as ritual has the effect of reactivating the somatic memory of the initial acute stress, which is then stored up and handed down through the generations. The Gospels are an example of this.

But the idea is that the zone of maximal stress—which is equivalent to Giorgio Agamben’s zoe or “bare naked life”—lies “out there” beyond the walls of the city which provide a protective membrane by creating a “zone of cooperation” for the community living together within its walls.

What Joker does—and since he signifies by extension the spree killer—is to introduce the zone of maximal stress on the inside of the zone of cooperation, or body social, where it does not belong. The realm of “bare naked life”—i.e. the zoological struggle for power—irrupts into the civilized order in an attempt to dismantle and scramble its codes. This reminds one of Jean Baudrillard’s definition of Evil, which was not based on the Christian distinction between good and evil, but rather, Evil for him was that which disrupts the smooth functioning of a given system. AIDS, for example, disrupts the smooth flow of the immune system; terrorism disrupts the flows of global capitalism; natural disasters disrupt the flows of civilization, etc. etc.

In origin, the function of Joker as a comic book supervillain and nemesis to Batman was to disrupt the smooth functioning of the social order of Gotham City. But this is precisely what the spree killer is attempting to do, and so the hinge between the anthropological type of the Dangerous Loner and the two-dimensional playing card character of the Joker fuses seamlessly together in Phillips’ narrative, since they both perform the same function within their respective milieus.

Arthur Fleck finds his narrative through dissolving his own three dimensional waking daylight personality into the two-dimensional mask of the mythical Joker. In doing so, in putting on the mask of Joker, Fleck gigantifies himself to epic proportions. Now all that he needs to do is commit foundational acts of violence that announce his existence as part of a new internal proletariat which the social order cannot afford to ignore.

A social order simply isn’t working when a significant number of its population feel “deontologized,” or rendered invisible. An internal proletariat, disillusioned with the dominant minority, begins to form, a proletariat that is in a society but no longer of it, since it has seceded from the body social and its rule by the dominant minority. Such proletariats, over time, grow larger and become ever more and more dangerous. The Spartacus slave revolts of 71 BC, for example, were an early warning of the coming of a religion of slaves—i.e. Christianity—which would eventually overcode Roman society from within. The early Christians, too, were invisible and hence deontologized to the Romans. But their secessionist discontent was already pregnant with the end of Rome as a pagan empire.

Today, too, there is a growing internal proletariat that feels deworlded, unrecognized and disempowered within the global ecumene of neoliberal Hypermodern capitalism. When one thinks of events like that of Andreas Lubitz, the co-pilot of a Germanwings airline who was so fed up with his status as a deontologized individual that in 2015 he crashed a plane full of 150 people into the French alps in order to register his existence upon the body social, it begins to become clear that the discontent is spreading even into the industry of professionals.

The fact of Todd Phillips’s film being so popular—especially among millennials who also feel “deworlded” and shorn of any meaningful narratives by which to live their lives—should give one pause for thought.

All is not well in Hypermodernity. And the Joker as a modern updating of the Medieval iconotype of the Dancing Fool is leading a long procession behind him.

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1st August 2018

Support John David Ebert on Patreon

https://www.patreon.com/johndavidebert

Hello, my name is John David Ebert and I am a cultural critic and the author of 26 books, including Art After Metaphysics, The New Media Invasion, The Age of Catastrophe and Dead Celebrities, Living Icons.

For three decades now, I have been studying the morphogenetic dynamics of cultures, societies and civilizations. I am fascinated with the ways in which civilizations come into being, transform into long term stable entities, and then wither, disintegrate and die. All civilizations are mortal. And they die in all kinds of strange and interesting ways. The Byzantine Civilization, for instance, was gobbled up entire by The Ottoman Empire. The Mesoamerican Civilization was dismantled by brigands, plunderers and nomads armed with a few guns and some viruses. Classical Greco-Roman Civilization was torn apart from within by endless civil wars and barbarian hordes.

What holds a society together and actually brings it into being is ritual, symbol and myth. Metaphysics is the spinal marrow of a society, and when a society’s metaphysical immune system–what I am calling its archai–is tampered with, then the society in question will most likely go to pieces. Our current planetary civilization is going to pieces. But when something falls apart, the thing is, you never know what it’s going to become, what winged-thing may crawl forth out of its ashes to spread leathery wings and fly. Societies give birth to each other all the time. And micro-molecular societies are often in process of hidden formation within larger civilizational macro-systems.

An internal proletariat, as Toynbee said, is a social formation that is in a society, but not of it. And internal proletariats often announce themselves through the creation of what I term “Boundary Events,” in which an act of violence is often committed to signify the boundaries of a newly arising social formation. The AUM Shinrikyo cult that assaulted the Tokyo subways with sarin nerve gas in the mid 1990s was an example of a Japanese internal proletariat. Christianity itself began as a religion among the Roman slave internal proletariat, but in that case, it actually emerged out of the chrysalis of an older civilization to replace it with a whole new macro-scale Society.

A sign regime, as defined by Deleuze & Guattari, is a system that emits signs in the form of flashing signifiers that are constantly beaming out: the tattoos of a Russian mafia man are signifying that he is part of a different social formation from you; the complicated hand gestures of a Los Angeles street gang member are also signifiers meant to denote his apartness from the decaying social order that surrounds him; the guns held by a proud member of the NRA aren’t so much meant to shoot at people, as to signify that he isn’t part of your world.

So this is what I study. These are the kinds of issues that all of my 26 books of essays, fiction and poetry examine. In becoming a John David Ebert patron, you will help him to find and discover the internal anatomies and hidden sign regimes of cultures, societies and civilizations that are in various processes of flux and decay all around us today. And the things that he finds out as a result of your patronage will light up previously darkened regions of the Being that now calls itself a Planetary scale Society. This light, in turn, will help us to navigate our way through a world that is undergoing disintegrative transformation into something Other.

Thank you.

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25th June 2018

On Brian Francis Culkin’s New Book “The Meaning of Trump”

On Brian Francis Culkin’s New Book “The Meaning of Trump”
A Review by John David Ebert

“Trump wants neoliberalism, absent the globalization.”

That is the paradox of Donald Trump, according to Brian Francis Culkin in his new book The Meaning of Trump, out from Zero Books in the first week of July, 2018. In other words, Trump embodies a paradox: he essentially represents the very neoliberal system–with its outsourcing of productivity to the Third World; migration of social and mediatic interactivity to the digital hypersphere; and the financialization of Big Business–that he built his entire campaign upon dismantling, promising to the middle American workers of the Rust Belt an impossibility: namely, that he could bring their jobs back, bring factories back from Mexico and China–such as Carrier–and in his words, “make America great, again.”

Furthermore, the global migration crisis, according to Culkin, which Trump avows also to put a stop to, is in fact the fallout and result of American militarization and unrestrained multinational corporatism that Trump fully supports. You can’t have one without the other. Which lands Trump within another paradox: ignoring climate change and ordering his Titanic full speed ahead at the approaching iceberg by deregulating Big Business, ignoring environmental devastation, the dissolution of local economies and the rise of wars over resource scarcity, all of which virtually guarantees that the problem of human migration will only grow worse and worse. We are looking, over the next century, at the uprooting of possibly over a billion people in zones where failed nation states, such as in Syria and Iraq, and gradually increasing global temperatures, will be rendering such areas inhospitable and uninhabitable. The Syrian crisis is merely the prelude to the gradual depopulation of the Middle East as soaring temperatures will render it shorn of all human beings. These people have to go somewhere, and northern latitudes are going to be prime real estate. The irony is that Trump’s policies of deregulation will only make this situation worse, never better. Just like entropy. It only goes one way.

Trump’s campaign, as Culkin also points out, won on a message that was, in essence, impossible to fulfill, namely to “make America great again,” by bringing back factories and jobs to the Rust Belt, turning back the clock on immigration to an age in which mostly white men benefited from the economy, and turn back to a time when social media wasn’t disrupting the flow of information from centralized sources. This is an example of what Arnold Toynbee called “the idolization of an ephemeral self,” such as in the case of ancient Athens after the Persian Wars, when the arrogance of the Athenians, relying upon their past greatness, kept getting them into worse and worse social and cultural disasters.

American industrialization is dead, done and gone. Nothing can ever bring it back, as many of these jobs are in the process of becoming more and more automated. You cannot reverse the decaying entropy of a place like the Rust Belt. Economies simply don’t work that way, for they are built on exhausting and depleting resources in a specific area which, once exhausted, can never come back. It’s like trying to resurrect a mining town that is becoming a ghost town as the reserves are being depleted. The Sumerians, for instance, kept salinizing and ruining their soils as they went along, which is why, according to Thorkild Jacobsen, Mesopotamian civilization is a story that gradually migrates from southern Iraq with the Sumerians, to middle Iraq with the Babylonians, and ultimately to northern Iraq with the Assyrians. Once those soils are dead, they can’t be revived and neither can American industrialization. So that is a phantom set of floating signifiers whose signifieds have all been melted down. There’s no bringing them back.

But note the vectors so far: Trump wants to build a wall to keep out Mexican immigrants; put travel bans on Muslim immigrants; he has withdrawn from the Iran nuclear deal; threatens to withdraw from NATO; supported Brexit; criticized any American involvement in Syria; and eased tensions with North Korea for the sole purpose of protecting American interests. In other words, it is an attempt to turn back the clock to pre-World War American Isolationism. It is like the Chinese emperor who, in the 1400s, ordered the burning of all admiral Zheng He’s records of his naval explorations in the Pacific, to Africa and, very possibly, the Americas. Subsequent Chinese influence upon the world retracted by the 1600s almost to zero as a result.

It doesn’t sound so much like Trump wants to “make America great again” as to make it “small again.” Small, quaint, ignorant and provincial. Yet, as Culkin makes clear in his analysis of the very paradox that Trump represents, all the while supporting Big Business, deregulation and global corporate investments. It is a telling fact that while in North Korea, Trump was said to have been eyeballing its beaches as sites for possible future real estate developments.

Reagan’s narrative, recall, was “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” to rid it of Big Government interference in the financial flows of its citizens. (In other words, as a wealthy movie star, he simply got tired of paying taxes). Trump’s narrative, on the other hand, is “The Art of the Deal.” Everything can be negotiated. He knows nothing of politics, cares nothing for history, and is ignorant of climate change. None of this matters. All that matters to him is transforming any and every situation to his advantage by extracting financial flows from it. His journey to North Korea had nothing to do with diplomacy: he was looking for ways to make money off of Kim Jong-Un. He wasn’t even thinking of echoing Nixon’s visit to China, which he probably doesn’t remember anyway.

Trump’s right hand, it is clear, does not know what his left hand is doing. As Culkin demonstrates, he is perhaps the most confused and confusing American president that we have ever had. And yet, the contradictions continue to ramify. Bizarrely, Trump has recently announced the creation of a Space Force, to be aligned with the American military. But isn’t this a retrieval of American expansionism again? But wait a minute: I thought he wanted to make America small again. Hold on: he meant “great,” right? Or was it small? So which is it: do you want to continue the expansion of the American Empire or shut it down and turn it into a quaint and cozy place of isolationism. Nation state or Empire? I don’t think this guy has thought anything through.

Culkin’s book succeeds best when it analyzes the kinds of contradictions that the Trump presidency represents. He is the first Hypermodern president, who tweeted his way into the White House, just as JFK was the first televisual president. I wonder, though, how popular Twitter is with the kinds of small town American Rust Belt workers that put Trump into office? Wouldn’t they regard it as a toy of the coastal liberal elite in their decadent big cities? Voting for him, as Culkin points out, was clearly not in their best interests, although due to his charisma and rhetoric he was able to make them think that he was their Big Brother–in the best sense of the phrase–looking out for their best interests. But the joke was on them. Their jobs aren’t coming back and Wall Street is only going to grow bigger, more esoteric and complex.

In short, Culkin’s new book is brilliant, short, readable and beautiful. I highly recommend it and it can be ordered from Zero Books at the following link: https://www.amazon.com/Meaning-Trump-Brian-Francis-Culkin/dp/1789040469/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1529865403&sr=8-1&keywords=brian%20francis%20culkin

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20th April 2018

On the Post-Metaphysical Art of Santa Fe Artist Blair Vaughn-Gruler

Blue Shingle, 2017

In her artist statement, “Occlude, Penetrate, Resolve: Paint in Relation to the Body,” the Santa Fe artist Blair Vaughn-Gruler likens the act of painting to creating an epidermal layer of skin that is designed to heal a Wound: as she specifies it, the Wound is that inflicted upon us by Modernity, in which a crisis of meaning of signifiers that have come unglued from their signifieds has resulted.

I think the art of Blair Vaughn-Gruler can best be approached from the standpoint of its evolution over time as she seeks, through the process of epidermal layering, to find new signifiers to occupy the semiotic vacancies left behind by the Dark Age of postmodernity.

To begin with her paintings from 2012, Blair Vaughn-Gruler’s surface of inscription is that, perhaps, of an old abandoned city wall upon which, after a Dark Age, an obscure memory of some formal vocabulary still exists–an echo of Euclid’s Elements, let’s say–and which is scrawled crudely upon the surface as rectangular boxes:

Recess, 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or, as in Climbing Tower of 2011, in which the memory of the vertical-axial arche-form begins to resurface as a quest for depth:

 

Climbing Tower, 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the 2012 painting Aperiodic Tesselations, a new epidermal surface begins to emerge into the Clearing which she is creating, in the form of tiny raised-relief rectangles that now begin to compose the form language of the Vocabulary she is searching for:

Aperiodic Tesselations, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With Geometry Angel of 2012, the geometric forms now begin to burn and glow with a faint self-luminous aura that indicates their numinosity as forms glowing out of the dim recesses of collective memory:

Geometry Angel, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And in Architectural Geometry II, the Euclidean graffiti shapes begin to resolve themselves into the possibility for the formation of houses and rectangles that could be reinhabited by this human Remnant:

Architectural Geometry II, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In 2013, the epidermal surface of inscription explodes into a series of rectangular units in raised relief, reiterated across a topological infinity, as in Shingle Painting 45:

Shingle Painting 45, 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The semiotic vacancies of the Dark Age after Modernity are now being filled in with a new form language of discrete iterations of abstract modularity, floating in hyperspace, as in Diablo, which suggests the view of a complex city from satellized orbit:

 

 

 

 

 

 

By 2015, the solution to the problem posed by her post-metaphysical semiotic vacancies is in process of resolving itself. The squares become organized, not random, and form a complex topology of striated space, as in Compulsion:

Compulsion, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon, a post-metaphysical rhizome begins to unfold that integrates all the elements into a complex form language of geometric micro-conversations as dense and complex as an Islamic arabesque:

Articulated Scribbling, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the rhizome that emerges is a symbiosis of forms creating a carpet of interwoven geometries that have now been remembered, recaptured and interleaved to form a higher, more fractally complicated geometry that exists on a plane of consistency beyond the ancient, dying Euclidean plane of organization:

Infinite Loop, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By 2017, a new space has opened up and dropped downward into the Infinite, a sort of visual equivalent of a Cantorian mathematical infinity as layer upon layer of geometric iteration builds one atop the next:

Logicism, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By 2018, these paintings have become worlds unto themselves, each one a microcosm of complexity and fractal energy with its own form world, its own figurative vocabulary and its own internal rhizomatic metaphysic:

Wiggle-Room, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In short, the art of Blair Vaughn-Gruler is that of a contemporary master whose work you cannot afford to overlook and which is currently available in Santa Fe at the GVG gallery.

Blair Vaughn-Gruler’s website: http://blairvaughngruler.com/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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