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Writings
The best artists, as we all know, have always theorized on their own work. Darko is no exception and becomes also a poet. Here come texts like "The Dimension of Extrabodies" and "Anaforagenetica": «Two rare writings by Darko Maver, written in Ljubljana in 1990. It's hard to find a definition for these texts, in which Maver joins poetry and theory in one suffered whole»
Anaforagenetica The Darkness before the birth, the feeling of a dirty, disgraceful rip-off. Abstinence From Life. The Body overflows the law, under the latter's eye it is the body itself that becomes body of evidence. The crime continues according to bloody rituals in the name of Nobody. The aesthete frees the victim of the veil which made a spectre of her, the murderer awakes, he's got coagula of rusty blood on his lips, but he does not remember the lethal bite. The genius vanishes, his steps follow the existence of a bodily object in a maze of hallucinated impressions and illusions. A minstrel show of the mind, where concepts and senses perform on an empty stage. Yeah! I refuse to ingratiate myself with the spectators, I refuse to quench my thirst with their Sweat. The project is accomplished in our causal thinking, which must always produce sense. Oh! Wonderful moment, expansion of the Sacred pain, the Moment you accept the way out of your own existence. When the party reaches its peak, now, I get dragged till wings begin to grow on me, I learned to fly a few days ago. 'Dissimulate your madness by simulating another folly". Emptied of your organs you survive, and I mean You Survive. Tied to Satan by a contract, the blood from your own flesh as signature. Sleep your life away, get immortal and insensitive. The Murder of the Imaginary Danger.
Condemned to live, Darko Maver, Ljubljana 1990
The Dimension of Extrabodies The Human died 2000 years ago. The Survival is made possible by the Extra-bodies, i.e. dismembered, unravelled, decayed inorganic elements. The History of the Flesh is born from the flesh that pain and wounds have carved. Gratuitous pictures expose themselves to the Sadistic Look of the Dead, whose eyes capture all that was alive and throbbing until a few seconds ago! The Desiccated Blood gluts the Vampire's appetite, exciting coagula let the Vampire reach the supreme extasy of idyllic Love. An orgy of Satiated Eyelids. Alchemic Sublimation gives way to a compulsive passage from the mechanicisms of Po-Mo Anthropological Sadism to the actual practice of Necromimesis. The dimension of the Extra-body shows up at the banquet of the Womb's fauces, an ancient deposit of Magmatic Desire of Pleasure turns into an appearance of death. Thou shalt take thy surgical instruments, thy bistoury, thy forceps and needles. You will lie confortable on your bed and suddenly begin to map your body following innate schemes, precise lines of carving. You will cut and dig, snatch all your useless rotting organs out of your body and put them on the table beside the bed, and dance with them. Here we dance, Knowledge and Concupiscence dance a wonderful Eleusinian tango. The image passes through consciousness and realizes itself in the impalpability of the Extra-body Protector, the basic mechanic principle of Human aggressiveness, the only antidote to the paranoidogenic separation between life and death. I have floated through the "buildings" around us, riding a huge Invertebrate, digging tunnels in the Desert of Human Experiences. Down there, in a red room, viscous walls covered with big plasmodia, I found an embryo. It had been turned inside out, all its organs exposed to the Look which re-assembled the parts into the Dimension of the Extra-body. Disappearance of the Game/Body, appearance of the Extra-body. The Presumed Actual Reality is based upon the vanishing of delusions, the Reality/Truth is the Assassination of the game, the hiding of its corpse. To a Ghost-Body dispossessed of life I add a heap of flesh, spoiled organs and rotting remainders. An unlikely oneirocriticism of wordless guts, a cathartic cynicism and, maybe, the Supreme Reason. Extra-body: it makes me think (?). Its weight is unbearable, its merciless categories of judgement are inadmissible now that the Party is beginning - I really can't believe my own eyes when I see that the majority of people are even able to fuck with their Extra-body!
Darko Maver, Ljubljana 1990 |
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