glyphmachines.4.0
Or a maze.
glyphmachine.4.1
Thursday, November 8, 2007
glyphmachine.4.0
These are all of the constellations formed into constellations formed into a constellation.
glyphmachines.4.0
Or a maze.
glyphmachine.4.1
glyphmachines.4.0
Or a maze.
glyphmachine.4.1
glypmachines 3.x
These are based on the resulting translations created out of glyphmachine.2.0. Each glyph now contains a constellation of a fragment of 1cm boxes, or fragments; a view of a deeper structure. You can see at the top of the page the resulting individual glyphs, their constellations. These constellations were then recombined in groups to form webs or armatures or what we might call sentences, in some universe not here.
glypmachine.3.1
glyphmachine.3.2
glyphmachine.3.3
glyphmachine.3.4
glyphmachine.3.5
glyphmachine.3.6
glyphmachine.3.7
glyphmachine.3.8
glyphmachine.3.9
glypmachine.3.1
glyphmachine.3.2
glyphmachine.3.3
glyphmachine.3.4
glyphmachine.3.5
glyphmachine.3.6
glyphmachine.3.7
glyphmachine.3.8
glyphmachine.3.9
glyphmachine.2.1
This machine was made with an exacto knife, splicing out all of the glyphs from a xeroxed copy of my reproduction of the cascajal block and imposing it on to a sheet of 130 1cm boxes.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
What do you mean, "It's a language"?
“The Cascajal block conforms to all expectations of writing. The text deploys
(i) a signary of about 28 distinct elements, each an autonomous, codified glyphic entity;
(ii) a few in repeated, short, isolable sequences within larger groupings; and
(iii) a pattern of linear sequencing of variable length, with
(iv) a consistent reading order.
As products of a writing system, the sequences would by definition reflect patterns of language, with the probable presence of syntax and language-dependent word order.”
— Science. “Oldest Writing in the World”. Ma. del Carmen Rodriguez Martinez, Ponciano Ortiz Ceballos, Michael D. Coe, Richard A. Diehl, Stephen D. Houston, Karl A. Taube, Alredo Delgado Calderon. Vol. 313 15 September 2006 p. 1612.
This schema is a glyph. Or rather, let’s translate the schema into a glyph, so that those of us trying to read the block might understand it. Insanely, the language for translation is, is, is becoming the language we translated for—since (where can we go for meaning!) the only rubric we have is this one. I need this block to understand language. And this block proffers nothing about language except what patterns language itself gives, here: this schema (codification, glyph). This is a landscape about which we know nothing except it is horizontal and therefore you can walk on it. We can extrapolate that it is dynamic, it goes up and down, gives vistas, obstacles, foregrounds and backgrounds, creates desire. And the earth’s texture modulates inexplicably like getting to know you. But it is on a planet too distant to visit.
Shall we begin?
(i) AUTONOMOUS/CODIFIED
"a signary of about 28 distinct elements, each an autonomous, codified glyphic entity;"
There are 62, 28 and more. It’s iterated, it’s iterable! This is a language people can rely on. In my research I have found that other examples of some of these glyphs have been found at San Lorenzo, at Canton Corralito and on the Humboldt Celt. Holy shit, a library. They are both “autonomous” and “codified”, meaning they are both human and citizen, both bigger than anything around them, and exactly the same size, which is to say very small. There’s an image of two children playing tug of war, with a circle around it and a line drawn through it: that’s not a good metaphor. It is a good analagon, when feeling the tension between 1) the singularity of an expression, a gesture, a place in time that’s gone, whoosh, and 2) the immense library of meaning, the immense voyage a referent must make to take up its place in the sign. I feel a sway, almost as though to a beat, but no… it is part of a larger system … and Derrida writes, “chaque fois unique, la fin du monde” (each time is the only time, the end of the world). C.F.U.L.F.D.M., C.F.U.L.F.D.M., each time I say it the truer it becomes. No, it implodes outwards, it is suddenly here, suddenly there, suddenly there, a different there, and always the same little ball of wax, do you know what I mean?
(thanks to Joel on this one.)
(ii) LANGUAGE IS ABLE TO PERMUTATE.
"a few in repeated, short, isolable sequences within larger groupings; and"
A frequency of sets, recombination is possible, people in an auditorium, there’s hierarchy here. There are levels of bureaucracy in a telephone game. If there are parts, and those parts can accumulate together and form other parts and those other parts into other parts, all including this dream of a catch-me-if-you-can totality. Then we call it a language. If she has an arm, we can call her a body, because her arm is part of her torso. Is this a teleology, or a democracy? Is this terrain India, or London? Really, at least cities are possible, equations are huge, size and quantity change everything, a one cent increase in pay can buy you a new television, one mistake can alter a lot.
(iii) I RECOGNIZE LANGUAGE FROM A DISTANCE.
"a pattern of linear sequencing of variable length, with"
_________ ___ _______ ____ __ ____ _______ ______ ____ ______________ __________ ______ ___________________ ___ ___ _____ ____ ________ ________ _________ ___ _____ __________
That is the shape of language. Like the face of someone, you recognize it immediately, and it has a name that is attached to its surface as firmly as a nose. Reading looks like this: you can change its direction, go front to back, upside down, sideways, in reverse, even rotate, spin it, like a dradle, one side still reads/is readable. But language has to be a straight line, and it has to have varying durations, so that we can be made to remember that it means so many different things. No one ever reads in a circle, or inside a box, or hopping all over a page. It has to be in the direction of travel. (bahn),
(iv) LANGUAGE AS SPORT.
"a consistent reading order."
The last tenant the scientists have set down qualifies reading by its muscularity. A rule that has recourse to the eye. I don’t know, why not ask my eye? The body going to an old home, pulling up the parking brake on level ground, flipping off the light even though the bulb’s burnt out, reaching out for a body that’s not there, thinking you and he mean the same thing…. If the glyphs withstand the test of the body’s reflexes: if the body kicks when language taps it. The eye yearns, reaches out to read it, I see a face in the cloud, a body in the shadow, in the air my fingers clasp around a glass of water that’s a little bit farther away than my arm can reach, and somehow that proves I need it.
As products of a writing system, the sequences would by definition reflect patterns of language, with the probable presence of syntax and language-dependent word order.
“Of which we cannot speak we must remain silent.” —W.
(i) a signary of about 28 distinct elements, each an autonomous, codified glyphic entity;
(ii) a few in repeated, short, isolable sequences within larger groupings; and
(iii) a pattern of linear sequencing of variable length, with
(iv) a consistent reading order.
As products of a writing system, the sequences would by definition reflect patterns of language, with the probable presence of syntax and language-dependent word order.”
— Science. “Oldest Writing in the World”. Ma. del Carmen Rodriguez Martinez, Ponciano Ortiz Ceballos, Michael D. Coe, Richard A. Diehl, Stephen D. Houston, Karl A. Taube, Alredo Delgado Calderon. Vol. 313 15 September 2006 p. 1612.
This schema is a glyph. Or rather, let’s translate the schema into a glyph, so that those of us trying to read the block might understand it. Insanely, the language for translation is, is, is becoming the language we translated for—since (where can we go for meaning!) the only rubric we have is this one. I need this block to understand language. And this block proffers nothing about language except what patterns language itself gives, here: this schema (codification, glyph). This is a landscape about which we know nothing except it is horizontal and therefore you can walk on it. We can extrapolate that it is dynamic, it goes up and down, gives vistas, obstacles, foregrounds and backgrounds, creates desire. And the earth’s texture modulates inexplicably like getting to know you. But it is on a planet too distant to visit.
Shall we begin?
(i) AUTONOMOUS/CODIFIED
"a signary of about 28 distinct elements, each an autonomous, codified glyphic entity;"
There are 62, 28 and more. It’s iterated, it’s iterable! This is a language people can rely on. In my research I have found that other examples of some of these glyphs have been found at San Lorenzo, at Canton Corralito and on the Humboldt Celt. Holy shit, a library. They are both “autonomous” and “codified”, meaning they are both human and citizen, both bigger than anything around them, and exactly the same size, which is to say very small. There’s an image of two children playing tug of war, with a circle around it and a line drawn through it: that’s not a good metaphor. It is a good analagon, when feeling the tension between 1) the singularity of an expression, a gesture, a place in time that’s gone, whoosh, and 2) the immense library of meaning, the immense voyage a referent must make to take up its place in the sign. I feel a sway, almost as though to a beat, but no… it is part of a larger system … and Derrida writes, “chaque fois unique, la fin du monde” (each time is the only time, the end of the world). C.F.U.L.F.D.M., C.F.U.L.F.D.M., each time I say it the truer it becomes. No, it implodes outwards, it is suddenly here, suddenly there, suddenly there, a different there, and always the same little ball of wax, do you know what I mean?
(thanks to Joel on this one.)
(ii) LANGUAGE IS ABLE TO PERMUTATE.
"a few in repeated, short, isolable sequences within larger groupings; and"
A frequency of sets, recombination is possible, people in an auditorium, there’s hierarchy here. There are levels of bureaucracy in a telephone game. If there are parts, and those parts can accumulate together and form other parts and those other parts into other parts, all including this dream of a catch-me-if-you-can totality. Then we call it a language. If she has an arm, we can call her a body, because her arm is part of her torso. Is this a teleology, or a democracy? Is this terrain India, or London? Really, at least cities are possible, equations are huge, size and quantity change everything, a one cent increase in pay can buy you a new television, one mistake can alter a lot.
(iii) I RECOGNIZE LANGUAGE FROM A DISTANCE.
"a pattern of linear sequencing of variable length, with"
_________ ___ _______ ____ __ ____ _______ ______ ____ ______________ __________ ______ ___________________ ___ ___ _____ ____ ________ ________ _________ ___ _____ __________
That is the shape of language. Like the face of someone, you recognize it immediately, and it has a name that is attached to its surface as firmly as a nose. Reading looks like this: you can change its direction, go front to back, upside down, sideways, in reverse, even rotate, spin it, like a dradle, one side still reads/is readable. But language has to be a straight line, and it has to have varying durations, so that we can be made to remember that it means so many different things. No one ever reads in a circle, or inside a box, or hopping all over a page. It has to be in the direction of travel. (bahn),
(iv) LANGUAGE AS SPORT.
"a consistent reading order."
The last tenant the scientists have set down qualifies reading by its muscularity. A rule that has recourse to the eye. I don’t know, why not ask my eye? The body going to an old home, pulling up the parking brake on level ground, flipping off the light even though the bulb’s burnt out, reaching out for a body that’s not there, thinking you and he mean the same thing…. If the glyphs withstand the test of the body’s reflexes: if the body kicks when language taps it. The eye yearns, reaches out to read it, I see a face in the cloud, a body in the shadow, in the air my fingers clasp around a glass of water that’s a little bit farther away than my arm can reach, and somehow that proves I need it.
As products of a writing system, the sequences would by definition reflect patterns of language, with the probable presence of syntax and language-dependent word order.
“Of which we cannot speak we must remain silent.” —W.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
glyphmachine.0.1
The following drawings form an experiment I conducted involving the Cascajal block. The experiment consisted of taping the Cascajal “block” (the paper reproduction) to a window and taping another blank piece of paper on top of it. The ensuing productions represent the movement of a pencil approximating the movements of my eye muscles as they “read” the paper. What I mean by “read” here is not at all clear. That is why there are seven productions—each one represents a different kind of “reading” and thus a different definition of what a reading is. Since the drawings represent physical muscle-stimuli response, explaining the logic behind the reading would take a fierce effort of translation that would not be exact in any sense of the word. I have been working over the past 10 months to describe in some way the varying features of each of these distinct readings. I have been completely unsuccessful. Translate for me the feeling of holding a body.
Months later I outlined some of the marks I made during these experiments in black and some in gray which had the effect of differentiating foreground and background.
I also rotated the orientation.
Months later I outlined some of the marks I made during these experiments in black and some in gray which had the effect of differentiating foreground and background.
I also rotated the orientation.
block notes
The Cascajal Block was uncovered in 1999 by a group of gravel poachers, it was accidental, not useful, anti-rubbish that could have become part of a patched up road. Ma. del Carmen Rodriguez Martinez and Ponciano Ortiz Ceballos, a married anthropologist couple, flew to the stone, it’s a better mousetrap, a lottery ticket or a confession, almost an invention—either way. They kept it a secret for the next six years, like a new marriage unfurling out of an old one; a fraud? For six years, they got to keep it. Mute, dumb, incomprehensible missive. Now open this letter.
“Features of the block. Carved of serpentine, the Cascajal block weighs about 12kg and measures 36 cm in length, 21 cm in width, and 13 cm in thickness (Figs. 2 and 3). It displays five slightly convex sides. The remaining side shows the text, which consists of 62 signs. Scrutiny of this surface shows variable patina, vestiges of local orange clay, and the workings of two blades: one blunted thus ideal for outlines, the other sharper to make incisions within signs. Unpatinated areas were highlighted by image processing in Adobe Photoshop CS (Adobe Systems Incorporated, San Jose, CA); other, unprocessed images are made available here as supporting online material. Enlargements of the high-resolution photos, taken with a Canon EOS 20D SLR (Canon, Tokyo, Japan) camera in raw format at 23:45 Mbytes per file, show unmistakable weatherings, including pitting over incisions, with mineralization around the pits and inside the carved lines, a secure sign of ancient surface alteration. This was confirmed by 20X magnification and mineralogical analysis courtesy of Ricardo Sanchez Hernandez and Jasinto Robles Camacho of the Laboratorio de Geologia INAH. In ancient times, the surface of the block had been carefully ground to prepare the incised text, possible as an erasable document that could be removed and revised.”
— Science. “Oldest Writing in the World”. Ma. del Carmen Rodriguez Martinez, Ponciano Ortiz Ceballos, Michael D. Coe, Richard A. Diehl, Stephen D. Houston, Karl A. Taube, Alredo Delgado Calderon. Vol. 313 15 September 2006 p. 1611.
To find something roughly the same size, I googled the dimensions 36cmx21cm, and I got something in so many scripts besides my own, the 36x21 bleeding through like a mistake in a whisper. Yes, that’s right, we use inches. Convert. Translate.
ok. let’s try 15in.x8in. A roll of ply paper. A standard tooth handsaw. A yellow toner cartridge. Crayola Art Kit. Staub Rectangular Roasting Dish. Djembe. Ditty bag. Touch screen monitor. Powerbook G4. Soft-side tackle station. White ABS PA Speaker. Freestanding ice-maker. Fog free mirror. 15-inch/M Class/ TFTColor/ AC/XGA/ 8MB.
Patina, and vestiges of local orange clay: the passage of something becoming marked as old, as becoming more and more different from what is current.
Another aspect worth dragging out, woah, worth unhooking, reknitting, is the fact that the glyphs contain marks made by two different instruments. The one, “blunted, ideal for outlines, the other, sharper to make incisions within signs”. Here, there is a whole theory of texts, of texture. Drawing figures, is, after all, figural. The cross-hatchings of these two layers of text: the big, the bold, the obvious, the dominant, with the interior, the soft, the lovely, the intricate, somehow means that meaning is stitched onto a frame, that there is order beneath order, at least that there are two different types of order. And that they are at least different enough to be crafted using two different kinds of writing implements / that there is some way that meaning and grammar end up cohabitating the same location.
And that there is nothing too disparate about stone and paper, after all.
“Features of the block. Carved of serpentine, the Cascajal block weighs about 12kg and measures 36 cm in length, 21 cm in width, and 13 cm in thickness (Figs. 2 and 3). It displays five slightly convex sides. The remaining side shows the text, which consists of 62 signs. Scrutiny of this surface shows variable patina, vestiges of local orange clay, and the workings of two blades: one blunted thus ideal for outlines, the other sharper to make incisions within signs. Unpatinated areas were highlighted by image processing in Adobe Photoshop CS (Adobe Systems Incorporated, San Jose, CA); other, unprocessed images are made available here as supporting online material. Enlargements of the high-resolution photos, taken with a Canon EOS 20D SLR (Canon, Tokyo, Japan) camera in raw format at 23:45 Mbytes per file, show unmistakable weatherings, including pitting over incisions, with mineralization around the pits and inside the carved lines, a secure sign of ancient surface alteration. This was confirmed by 20X magnification and mineralogical analysis courtesy of Ricardo Sanchez Hernandez and Jasinto Robles Camacho of the Laboratorio de Geologia INAH. In ancient times, the surface of the block had been carefully ground to prepare the incised text, possible as an erasable document that could be removed and revised.”
— Science. “Oldest Writing in the World”. Ma. del Carmen Rodriguez Martinez, Ponciano Ortiz Ceballos, Michael D. Coe, Richard A. Diehl, Stephen D. Houston, Karl A. Taube, Alredo Delgado Calderon. Vol. 313 15 September 2006 p. 1611.
To find something roughly the same size, I googled the dimensions 36cmx21cm, and I got something in so many scripts besides my own, the 36x21 bleeding through like a mistake in a whisper. Yes, that’s right, we use inches. Convert. Translate.
ok. let’s try 15in.x8in. A roll of ply paper. A standard tooth handsaw. A yellow toner cartridge. Crayola Art Kit. Staub Rectangular Roasting Dish. Djembe. Ditty bag. Touch screen monitor. Powerbook G4. Soft-side tackle station. White ABS PA Speaker. Freestanding ice-maker. Fog free mirror. 15-inch/M Class/ TFTColor/ AC/XGA/ 8MB.
Patina, and vestiges of local orange clay: the passage of something becoming marked as old, as becoming more and more different from what is current.
Another aspect worth dragging out, woah, worth unhooking, reknitting, is the fact that the glyphs contain marks made by two different instruments. The one, “blunted, ideal for outlines, the other, sharper to make incisions within signs”. Here, there is a whole theory of texts, of texture. Drawing figures, is, after all, figural. The cross-hatchings of these two layers of text: the big, the bold, the obvious, the dominant, with the interior, the soft, the lovely, the intricate, somehow means that meaning is stitched onto a frame, that there is order beneath order, at least that there are two different types of order. And that they are at least different enough to be crafted using two different kinds of writing implements / that there is some way that meaning and grammar end up cohabitating the same location.
And that there is nothing too disparate about stone and paper, after all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)