Why black mater(s)?
A Cosmology of Black
18th November 2019
[Ink/Press] At the beginning it was all white. Soon things became to shape.
Now the keys are dipped into the dark black liquid, the elegant and small shapes sculpted in the hard oak wood are soaking the ink that rumps up in the veins and nodules breaking the surface tension. It will hold within the reversed keys waiting for the scroll to touch the surface again and absorb all the secrets of the keys combination. They firmly leave their mirrored shapes on the page, one after another, letters appear and thoughts come into words composing the story in between the lines, ghostwriting a memorable speech. Stories, thoughts and revolutionary ideas can now be shared, culture, beautiful poems, wisdom and memories of the old times disseminated in millions of copies, shapes and signs of heroes and gods will permanently be remembered, memories of years of oral history now embodied on the thin layer of white paper. The power of knowledge collected ready to be passed to the future generation. The pursuit of a continuous enlightenment for perfection.
[Black Coal] It was then our time of perfection. Down the street, fumes and vapours of the industrial machines. The crowded narrow streets around Seven Dials are crossed by labourers shadows, moving slowly and disappearing in the black unwholesome fog.
The long day is over, till tomorrow. The sky, always black, above slowly falls over and consumes the horizon line, a thin undefined line in between the roofs of the never ending crowd of houses.
Down to the pub, drinking pints. A women is laughing out loud outside, selling her own soul for a few pennies that she will drink up later. Exhausted men and young teens drag themselves, dirt of brick dust marks their alienated faces. Britain's black diamonds, the power of modern industry.
[Night] The sunset is stretching the last purple, orange and pink fare into the sky, the thin crescent moon slice which anticipated the evening hours during this late afternoon of clear sky, is becoming more visible by contrasting its darkened background. The sea is tinting shade by shade its immense stretch of water from an intense indigo now getting deep navy blue, leaving only the white surf to dictate the rhythm.
In the mountains, the undergrowth is been already rocked to sleep since a few hours, while the summit of the tallest trees is getting its last greenish spot before turning into black. They will join the peaceful night soon. Just a few miles away, the soft glow of a billboard on the edge of the road is lighting up the dark tarmac, crossed now and then by the glare of few cars headlights directed to the bright cloud downtown.
[Black dress] It is the time for the night owls to hit the town: long drapes of silky fabric wrap around their tiny boney bodies; black suits, ties, the manly bellies their robust build; shawls and long dressed shine on the suffused light of the dining room. What a luxurious vision of everlasting elegance! Hidden behind the masks of this classy appearance, smiles, glimpse and blushing cheeks of alienated persona fluctuate around; swinging between wine, champagne and whiskeys; smoking cigarettes, cigars and pipes are filling the air dense of expectations with a foggy cloud, things are slowly fading in the haze now. Thanks God!
[Black out] Nothing ever stops, the cites never sleep, we really never switch of. Power control lights, LEDs, screens, neons, emergency signs, alarms, and so on, they keep us awake, vigilant. When we choose to appear asleep, in the darkness, we know that there is always a quick way back: a small click away from full power again, a cable away to recharge our senses and come back to live. We are designed to fool, to simulate, to create addiction, every single little second depends on us, time depends on us. Indeed, the darkness of today is a mere perceptive construct. As far as we have energy, we will have the power.
[Black Friday] Hundred thousands. Rushing around. Quick! Hurry! Only for today. Time is ticking out. Greediness, desire, obsolescence degenerate shamelessly. Sales! Half-price! What a bargain! 2For1, how not to take advantage of it? The lowest peak of human morality. No rules of respect. Only eyes on the object of ephemeral desires. Capitalistic constructs, machines of commodities production able to abduct men's mind in this foolish market game. Only for today. A viral fever spreads out in the streets, adverts all over our screens, inbox spamming from any type of websites. Unmissable, sudden and legitimised need of shopping. A regrettable magnetic spiral that drives down any intellect of humanity.
[Kapoor's black hole] Follow the water falling in the swirling black hole,
follow me in the hypnotic dance.
Continuously, endlessly, twirling, overturning my self over and over and over.
Capture your attention and draw you into the depths of my hole.
Do you trust your perception? Do you trust me?
Hypnotised,
I can trigger thoughts from the deepest corners of your memory,
fears and thoughts beyond your rational notion of perception.
Nonsense!
How can you even think of a black so black that is not even a colour,
the darkest man-made substance,
Vantablack!
And yet, your minds' attraction for the unknown,
for what seems to be a deeply fearful hole of unidentified mater.
[Black box] It is all they have left to remind them the last moments before the end. I am their only hope to know, yet I contain traces of the terror and fear, I have everything they are looking for: memories, facts, answers. I can tell them what happened, how much struggle was on board, why things went wrong, how much noise the drama would make, who to blame for it.. what a spectacular tragedy to recall!
Their endless need of finding an explanation, a never ending pursuit for perfection, not acceptance of indeterminacy, combined with a grotesque fascination for tragic emotions, despite the painfulness of it. Although I exist because this pervert curiosity, I would like to delete me, my memory and my purpose of existence. It is already been a while, I am here below all the rubbles, they are looking for me, I know they will come to find me, soon I will be freed from my memory, from myself.
[Black life] Can it then be the answer in those times of injustice, violence and danger?
Can a fast up in the air become it? How can we not see it?
A life, any life. We should all have the right to live.
Yet seems so hard to believe it. What it has been left if not reaction?
Would you not protect your beloved?
A fist for justice. Up in the air in the highest moment of your life.
A fist for lives.
Sometimes it maters.
Every life does.
[Black eye] – You cannot see me right now. I am just here below the lash, the dark mark that circle the cheekbone. The dark bruises over the body, on the ribs. I was all for nothing. Only a word. The answer was a punch and a kick.
– Damn, who's fault is it? Anger and violence, possessiveness? What is yours, is now mine. You are mine.
Nothing further.
– Blackness surrounds the sight, the semi-open eye can barely stand the blood pulsating in the head.
It was stronger this time. Last time, yesterday, was the last one. I don't remember the first, does it mater? The scars are already forgotten, no impressions on the body.
Only darkness in my mind.
Yes, some marks are now invisible, but hurt forever.
[Black mark] Remember me? Of course! The priceless certainty of being remembered for only that small mistake happened a thousand tmes. Is it enough to be marked against it forever in everyone's mind? Certainly! No one look at them in the same way! Only images evoking those actons are allowed in people's imaginary now! Not to be trusted, not to be understood, not to be commiserate. Here is my reminder, here is my mark on you, hanging on your shoulder, on your face, on your name.
Some unlucky accidents are better to be forgotten.
[Black cat] How dare talking about unlucky accidents?!
On the streets I wander, and everyone's steering clear of me, avoided as a wicked one.
Everything started because of those useless carriages, these beautiful eyes shining in the dark frighten to death the carriage's horses, messed up human mind. Wild creatures discriminated by their own fur colour, abandoned, believed devilish and belonging to black magic forces.
May be blessed those humans! Years and years of prrrretentiousness and yet, believe in rotten luck! Superrrrstiton, what a reactionary way of thinking!
[Tattoo] Then tell me, can anything be more permanent, eternal? Bring the needle!
You can't help it,
ain't not power!
Ink keeps flowing into the deep layers of the skin,
marking up people, identity and tears with permanent black scars.
[Black] Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything (Vedder and Gossard, 1991)
[Blindness] Endless night, endless tme. No light, only shadows. Flat blackness, infnite space for imaginaton. I can hear you. In front of me, just slightly on the right side. Your presence, now only vibratons. Now talk to me. The sound of your voice resonates. Silence again. Talk again. Something familiar, blurred image in my mind. Every litle movement makes me know you beter. How tall? Quite enough, I'd say. I can reach your body heat. Why are you so cold now my dear? I can tell, something upsets you. I hear the intensity of your breathing. Tell me what you feel. I don't know what's going on around me. I can't see but I can feel you. There's darkness in my eyes but not in my heart. Darkness is my world but your voice is the colour of my soundtrack. Talk, talk again. I know, don't know you. I will. Talk, touch me, breath, kiss me. I do now, I imagine so.
[Black Keys] Play the undertones, the underdogs. Rarely, but do it.
A Sharp note. Accidental signature of the scale. But now B fat.
Be the expression of those feelings. Compose the sounds, let the beat streaming from inside.
Develop, become, play, interact, play, feel, again and again.
Melodic components notes flows on the keys touched firmly by the fingers in a free sequence of sounds improvised following the feelings and creativity of the brilliant mind now stronger in climax to the peak and back in the valley of the mid tones slowly slowly appropriating the stage again. Again, a black key and again a note. A note. To be heard. And then the last one. Now, a C fat. And done.
What is it then other than this the grim sound and distorted noise of the keys awakening our deepest emotions?
[Black Hole Sun] Black hole sun, won't you come and wash away the rain (Cornell, 1994)
[Black hole] I am the end. Here is where everything disappears. Anything as you know it vanishes inside me. Rules of human kind have no power in my reign. The power of what you do not understand is what creates me. You cannot proceed further. The unfolding of disappearing mater. Infnitve condensed sub-partcles are now here, suddenly invisible. The edges are in contnuous movement. Time and space are nothing. Above any logic or physics you can ever think of. Here is where your dreams and nightmares are. Where the universe is created and destroyed. I am where everything starts.
Cornell, C. from Soundgarden (1994). Black hole sun. [Vinyl]. Seatle, Washington, US: A&M.
Dickens, C. (2000). Oliver Twist. Ware, England: Wordsworth Editons.
Nelson, M. (2017). Bluets. London, England: Vintage.
Kapoor, A. (1992). Descent into Limbo [concrete, stucco, painted in Vantablack - 600×600×600 cm]. Kassel, Germany: Documenta IX
Kapoor, A. (2015). Descension [Steel, water, motor - 500 x 500 cm]. San Gimignano, Italy: Galleria Contnua.
Pastoureau, M. (2008). Black: The History of a Color [Translaton by Gladding, J.]. Princeton, New Jersey, US: Princeton University Press
Vedder, E. and Gossard, S. fromPearl Jam (1991). Black. [CD] Seatle, Washington, US: Epic.