syn·site
( a ) neologism: syn-site is a neologism for a contemporary understanding of site as entangled and mutable. It offers legs (utility) for both a part (JF) and a whole (non-zero others).
( b ) gesamtkunstwerk: syn-site is one person's act of tilting at windmills syn-sites as a gesamtkunstwerk.
( c ) smeerp¹: syn-site is calling-a-nonsite-a-smeerp.
( d ) smeerp²: non-site, in turn, was calling-synecdoche-a-smeerp.
( e ) smeerp³: calling a rabbit a smeerp is a problem.
( f ) ...is a stretch...
( g ) ...but art is reaching, stretching, gesturing; is making connections to create constellations.
( h ) some combo synthesis
( i ) related yet sublated-or-other: parasite, hypersite, hyperobject, nonspace, nonplace, site/non-site, synsight, syncite, knotsite, web-site, metaverse, smeerp, tangle.
( a ) neologism: syn-site is a neologism for a contemporary understanding of site as entangled and mutable. It offers legs (utility) for both a part (JF) and a whole (non-zero others).
( b ) gesamtkunstwerk: syn-site is one person's act of tilting at windmills syn-sites as a gesamtkunstwerk.
( c ) smeerp¹: syn-site is calling-a-nonsite-a-smeerp.
( d ) smeerp²: non-site, in turn, was calling-synecdoche-a-smeerp.
( e ) smeerp³: calling a rabbit a smeerp is a problem.
( f ) ...is a stretch...
( g ) ...but art is reaching, stretching, gesturing; is making connections to create constellations.
( h ) some combo synthesis
( i ) related yet sublated-or-other: parasite, hypersite, hyperobject, nonspace, nonplace, site/non-site, synsight, syncite, knotsite, web-site, metaverse, smeerp, tangle.
SYN (along with, at the same time | from Greek SYN, with | ~SYNTHETIC) + SITE (N: point of event, occupied space, internet address; V: to place in position | from Latin SITUS, location, idleness, forgetfulness | ~WEBSITE ¬cite ¬sight), cf. SITE/NON-SITE (from Robert Smithson, A PROVISIONAL THEORY OF NONSITES, 1968)
one continuous self, two sides of a vivacious equation looped together in a continual narrative of daily living and human existence. The glitch splits the difference; it is a plank that passes between the two.
one continuous self, two sides of a vivacious equation looped together in a continual narrative of daily living and human existence. The glitch splits the difference; it is a plank that passes between the two.
one continuous self, two sides of a vivacious equation looped together in a continual narrative of daily living and human existence. The glitch splits the difference; it is a plank that passes between the two.
Exclamation points survive as tokens of the disjunction between idea and realization in that period, and their impotent evocation redeems them in memory: a desperate written gesture that yearns in vain to transcend language.
Exclamation points survive as tokens of the disjunction between idea and realization in that period, and their impotent evocation redeems them in memory: a desperate written gesture that yearns in vain to transcend language.
Exclamation points survive as tokens of the disjunction between idea and realization in that period, and their impotent evocation redeems them in memory: a desperate written gesture that yearns in vain to transcend language.
we are no longer in the age of gaining information, we are in the age of connecting knowledge.
we are no longer in the age of gaining information, we are in the age of connecting knowledge.
we are no longer in the age of gaining information, we are in the age of connecting knowledge.
The matador is gored, the real jumps out and punctures the screen or strip of film, destroying it. . . . The challenge isn’t to depict this real realistically, or even ‘well’, but to approach it in the full knowledge that, like some roving black hole, it represents (though that’s not the right word anymore) the point at which the writing’s entire project crumples and implodes.
The matador is gored, the real jumps out and punctures the screen or strip of film, destroying it. . . . The challenge isn’t to depict this real realistically, or even ‘well’, but to approach it in the full knowledge that, like some roving black hole, it represents (though that’s not the right word anymore) the point at which the writing’s entire project crumples and implodes.
The matador is gored, the real jumps out and punctures the screen or strip of film, destroying it. . . . The challenge isn’t to depict this real realistically, or even ‘well’, but to approach it in the full knowledge that, like some roving black hole, it represents (though that’s not the right word anymore) the point at which the writing’s entire project crumples and implodes.