Member 2488
205 entries

Contributor to projects:
The Total Library
Immortal since Feb 10, 2010
Uplinks: 0, Generation 3
i am an eXperiment. a Syncopated word & image coLLage imported from Our minD sEnse-thoUght collective stream. a trial 2 eXpress the aRhythmia & the off beat that lies in-betwEEn the bond made of: imAge narrative & senSation. an aEsthetic act and aim of WondeR in the search for a CRaCK. as for if anything eXists at all it exisTs i n - b e T w e e n.
  • Affiliated
  •  /  
  • Invited
  •  /  
  • Descended
  • syncopath’s favorites
    From CoCreatr
    The Systems View of Life
    From milos_ilic
    Ai Architecture - AttnGAN
    From Wildcat
    Opting for idleness (of...
    From gamma
    Chaos in sync - new...
    From bianca
    “Don't just stand there,...
    Recently commented on
    From nedzen
    The cold shower
    From syncopath
    eChoes ...
    From syncopath
    Ragnarök -or- How wE...
    From gamma
    The future of music: old...
    From whiskey
    syncopath’s projects
    The human species is rapidly and indisputably moving towards the technological singularity. The cadence of the flow of information and innovation in...

    The Total Library
    Text that redefines...
    Now playing SpaceCollective
    Where forward thinking terrestrials share ideas and information about the state of the species, their planet and the universe, living the lives of science fiction. Introduction
    Featuring Powers of Ten by Charles and Ray Eames, based on an idea by Kees Boeke.


    If we affirm one single moment,
    we thus affirm not only ourselves but all existence. For nothing is self-sufficient, neither in us ourselves nor in things; and if our soul has trembled with happiness and sounded like a harp string just once, all eternity was needed to produce this one event —
    and in this single moment of affirmation
    all eternity
    was called
    justified, and affirmed.

    text : Friedrich Nietzsche, "The Will to Power", first published 1901
    image : photos by Syncopath, Long Now Concert, Kraftwerk, Berlin 2015

    Wed, Apr 15, 2020  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    We do what we must,

    and call it

    by the best names we can.

    text : Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Experience" essay 1844
    image : photos by Syncopath, Street Graffiti, Tel Aviv, 2013

    Thu, Apr 2, 2020  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Promote (1)
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    This is love :

    to fly toward a secret sky,

    to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.

    First to let go of life.

    Finally, to take a step without feet.

    text : Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī - a 13th-century Persian poet, faqih, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.
    image : photos by Syncopath, Famara beach, The Canaries, 2019
    Thu, Apr 2, 2020  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    Tenderness is the most modest form of love. It is the kind of love that does not appear in the scriptures or the gospels, no one swears by it, no one cites it. It has no special emblems or symbols, nor does it lead to crime, or prompt envy.

    It appears wherever we take a close and careful look at another being, at something that is not our “self”. Tenderness is spontaneous and disinterested. it goes far beyond empathetic fellow feeling. Instead it is the conscious, though perhaps slightly melancholy, common sharing of fate. Tenderness is deep emotional concern about another being, its fragility, its unique nature, and its lack of immunity to suffering and the effects of time.

    Literature is built on tenderness toward any being other than ourselves. It is the basic psychological mechanism of the novel. Thanks to this miraculous tool, the most sophisticated means of human communication, our experience can travel through time, reaching those who have not yet been born, but who will one day turn to what we have written, the stories we told about ourselves
    and our world.

    text : Olga Tokarczuk, an excerpt from her lecture as Nobel Laureate in Literature 2018
    images : from baried exhibitions of "Play Dead; Real Time (this way, that way, the other way)", 2003 a video installation by artist Douglas Gordon.
    Videos : Youtube (04:00) and Vimeo (00:35)
    Mon, Feb 24, 2020  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    In the depth of winter,

    I finally learned

    that within me there lay an invincible summer.

    text : Albert Camus, Return to Tipasa, 1954
    fotos : Syncopath, Koh Mak island, Thailand, 2011

    Wed, Feb 19, 2020  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Synapses (1)

    There is something dreamlike about the points that provide a view of the other side,
    but they belong not so much to the dream-time as to dream-work.
    The nomads
    enter the dream-time
    not by setting off on some extraordinary, dangerous voyage,
    but through their
    everyday, ambulatory movement.

    text : César Aira (b. 1949) is a prolific Argentine writer and translator.
    image : Tina Berning "129 Listeners", Berlin based artist and illustrator.
    * photos by Syncopath.

    Tue, Feb 18, 2020  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    There are really three great views of the world that human beings have had.
    one is the western world view which looks upon the world as a construct, an artifact. by analogy with ceramics and carpentry. Then there is the Hindu view which is dramatic and which looks upon the world as a play. Then there is the Chinese view which is organic, and looks upon the world as an organism, a body.

    But the Hindu view of the world sees it as a drama. and it is simply this: there is what there is and always was and always will be and which is called the self. in Sanskrit Atman also called Brahmann (from bri ; to grow, tp expand, to swell, to breath). And the Brahmann, the Self, plays hide and seek with itself for always and always and always.

    How far out, how lost can you get ? …So here each one of us, according to the Hindu idea, is the Godhead, on purpose, getting lost, for the fun of it. and how terrible it can get at times ....... !
    but won’t it be nice when you wake up ..... ? That’s sort of the basic idea and I found it’s an idea that any child can understand. It has great simplicity and great elegance.

    text : Alan Watts
    images : Alex Prager an LA based art photographer and filmmaker.

    Thu, Dec 26, 2019  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    I keep wondering if these days it’s possible to find the foundations of a new story that’s universal, comprehensive, all-inclusive, rooted in nature, full of contexts and at the same time understandable.

    Could there be a story that would go beyond the uncommunicative prison of one’s own self, revealing a greater range of reality and showing the mutual connections? That would be able to keep its distance from the well- trodden, obvious and unoriginal center point of commonly shared opinions, and manage
    to look at things ex-centrically, away from the center?

    text : Olga Tokarczuk, an excerpt from her lecture as Nobel Laureate in Literature 2018
    images : Alex Prager, an LA based art photographer and filmmaker.

    Wed, Dec 25, 2019  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse

    Whoever embraces a woman is Adam. The woman is Eve.
    Everything happens for the first time.
    I saw something white in the sky. They tell me it is the moon, but
    what can I do with a word and a mythology.
    Trees frighten me a little. They are so beautiful.
    The calm animals come closer so that I may tell them their names.
    The books in the library have no letters. They spring forth when I open
    Leafing through the atlas I project the shape of Sumatra.
    Whoever lights a match in the dark is inventing fire.
    Inside the mirror an Other waits in ambush.
    Whoever looks at the ocean sees England.
    Whoever utters a line of Liliencron has entered into battle.
    I have dreamed Carthage and the legions that destroyed Carthage.
    I have dreamed the sword and the scale.
    Praised be the love wherein there is no possessor and no possessed, but
    both surrender.
    Praised be the nightmare, which reveals to us that we have the power to
    create hell.
    Whoever goes down to a river goes down to the Ganges.
    Whoever looks at an hourglass sees the dissolution of an empire.
    Whoever plays with a dagger foretells the death of Caesar.
    Whoever dreams is every human being.
    In the desert I saw the young Sphinx, which has just been sculpted.
    There is nothing else so ancient under the sun.
    Everything happens for the first time, but in a way that is eternal.
    Whoever reads my words is inventing them.

    text : Jorge Luis Borges, Happiness, from La cifra “The Limit” (1981)
    translation by Stephen Kessler.

    photos : Eleanor Antin, "100 Boots", 1971-1973
    more about this work on KADIST
    Mon, Nov 18, 2019  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Promote (1)
      Add to favorites (1)
    Create synapse

    I do not know what I may appear to the world,
    but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore
    and diverting myself in now and then
    finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary,
    whilst the great ocean of knowledge lay
    undiscovered before me.

    text : Issac Newton

    image: Yayoi Kusama

    Fri, Nov 15, 2019  Permanent link

      RSS for this post
      Add to favorites
    Create synapse