Every once in a while I like to check in on Alex Jones, just to see how he’s doing. The man lives in a very dangerous world, you understand. Far more dangerous than the sphere that you and I inhabit. Crazy shit goes down on a daily basis in Jones’s ‘hood, so I just stop by every now and then to make sure that his head hasn’t exploded or, at the very least, to witness his head exploding.

There could not have been a better time. Truly, this is some of the man’s finest work. It’s got everything a conspiracy could ask for: government cover-ups, drug use, Philip K. Dick and elves. It’s awe-inspiring stuff. The gist is that powerful old men, who may or may not be ruling the world, are jacked up on the powerful hallucinogen dimethyltryptamine (DMT). Under the effects of the drug, they have come into contact with beings Jones’s claims they refer to as “clockwork elves” who instructed them to enslave humanity and build the Large Hadron Collider.

Now, Jones insists that he does not believe this (probably…maybe) and that this is “pretty David Icke”. He wants you to know that he doesn’t talk about this stuff because it would blow your mind. But he also knows that you need to know these things. You need to be aware because, as mentioned, Alex Jones lives in a pretty dangerous world and, with his help, you can too.

RESONANCE from Resonance on Vimeo.

In the 11-minute clip above, mind a group of over 30 animators and sound artists teamed up to create short pieces between 12 and 20 seconds with the aim to “explore the relationship between geometry and audio in unique ways.”

The result is a series of warped, surreal sound visualizations. Twitching biomechanical amoebae, self-assembling fractal cubes, watery UFOs, motile blinking rubbery art-gallery showpieces,

[via raindrift]

I will not, dear reader, attempt to convince you that I have any true comprehension of Jan Švankmajer’s 1971 short film Jabberwocky, for that would most assuredly be a lie. Comprised of stop motion animation and featuring a reading of the titular poem found in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There, it is a film dense with seemingly impenetrable symbolism.

That poem is where the familiarity ends, the film beginning with a mysterious, moving wardrobe which opens to reveal a room that will change over the course of our journey, with the exception of the portrait of the severe, bearded man on the wall. There, we meet our hero, a child’s suit magically come to life. What follows is thirteen minutes of stop-motion insanity occasionally interrupted by the antics of a decidedly destructive black cat.

Ostensibly, Jabberwocky details the rebellion of a young man (the child’s suit) against authority or his father (the portrait) and, sure, that makes sense. What the intervening cascade of symbolism and weirdness actually means I cannot say. It is, however, certainly entertaining regardless.

PAPER BUTTERFLY by secretsaunasirens

“…scientists say melancholics are better lovers” /” ..happy people are forgetful suckers”/ “…Roget created his thesaurus to combat the funk”

Melancholy Maaret,  enigmatic contemporary visual & performance artist, and founder of Secret Sauna Sirens – a pseudonymous, experimental collaborative of multi-disciplinary artists – has some interesting insight into the subject of sadness.  In her poem “Paper Butterflies”, she solemnly urges us inward, in lilting, bird-like tones and delicately rolling Finnish accent,  to examine our melancholia and embrace these hermetic, suffocating feelings.

image via secretsaunasirens

Stop trying to be happy, she warbles.  After all, “…mental acuity flourishes in despair” and”…blue betties make fewer tactical errors”.  “I’m not making this shit up,” she insists.  Well…is she?  Perhaps not.  In Scientific American’s 2009 article regarding a study of depression’s evolutionary roots, it is suggested that depression is not a disorder at all, but a mental adaptation with some useful  cognitive benefits.

Depressed people often think intensely about their problems. These thoughts are called ruminations; they are persistent and depressed people have difficulty thinking about anything else. Numerous studies have also shown that this thinking style is often highly analytical. They dwell on a complex problem, breaking it down into smaller components, which are considered one at a time.

This analytical style of thought, of course, can be very productive. Each component is not as difficult, so the problem becomes more tractable. Indeed, when you are faced with a difficult problem, such as a math problem, feeling depressed is often a useful response that may help you analyze and solve it. For instance, in some of our research, we have found evidence that people who get more depressed while they are working on complex problems in an intelligence test tend to score higher on the test.

Thank you, Melancholy Maaret, for validating us saddies. Viva melancholia!  Ditch the Wellbutrin.  Stay sad and homely, indeed.

More:

• secretsaunasiren’s sounds on soundcloud
• Melancholy Maaret and Her Secret Sauna Siren’s youtube channel

Another mystifying, gorgeous, crumbling artifact found on Tumblr [via bloodmilk].

The source and context of the image sadly remain a mystery, but, as with Deirdre Aislinn MacCarthy and Athanasius Scrimshaw and his good lady, Jerboa, this photo invites the telling of tales.

What happens when this traveling show comes to town? What’s the relationship between the well-dressed lady standing on the stairs and the man beside her? Do those carved gargoyles and angels ever talk? Are people who see this show ever really the same after the see it?

Fantastic pen and ink double portrait by Hilus Anendorf

Leonora Carrington lived a life as surreal and fantastical as the images she painted. The last of the first generation of Surrealists, she consorted with the full pantheon of greats, from Dali to Picasso, and was hailed as “Mexico’s greatest living artist” before her death 94. Despite her storied career as bohemian darling, wild muse and prolific creator of paintings, books, sculpture and theater, she remained always humble, and resolutely uninterested in labels, or all the laurels that have been flung her way over the years.

Her approach to art was completely intuitive, stemming from the deep well of her soul, her own psychic underworld realm that she populated with fantastic beasts and mysterious figures. She disdained the overintellectualization and analysis of her work, her beliefs, her inspirations – believing fervently that the visual world she created was unnecessarily hindered by those determined to understand what it was all about. She was a provocateur, delighting in stirring up trouble amongst the staid, society types whose ilk she rejected. André Breton wrote of her in his Anthologie de l’humoir noir:

“Those respectable people who, for a dozen years, had invited her to dine in a prestigious restaurant have still not recovered from the embarrassment when they noticed that, while continuing to take part in the conversation, she had taken off her shoes and meticulously covered her feet in mustard.”

The Conjuror

All of her work is infused with this dark sense of humor and mischief, particularly her writing. In her only novel, The Hearing Trumpet, she envisions herself as a wizened crone – the 92 year old Marian Leatherby, a deaf and toothless “drooling sack of decomposing flesh” who is cast-off by callous relatives to a sanatorium for the elderly. It is here that her life truly begins, when she finds her kind: a coven of witch-sisters who help her discover and unleash her mediumistic talents.

Carrington once said, “I wanted to appear like an old lady so I could poke fun at sinister things.” As a young woman growing up in her stultifyingly proper Lancashire family estate, she railed against convention, and was booted out of multiple boarding schools. In her story “The Debutante”, she recounts her fantasy of dressing up a hyena in her coming-out dress, and sending the wild thing to her debutante’s ball in her stead. Allowed at last to attend art school, she horrified her family by running off with a married man twice her age, who happened to be Max Ernst. The romance was tragic, and ill-fated – doomed by the Nazi invasion of France and their subsequent incarceration of her lover. After a nervous breakdown, which caused her to be thrown into an asylum, she fled Europe for Mexico, where she settled and flourished until her death.

“We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.”
— Leonora Carrington

Over in a SomethingAwful forums titled 3D Emoticons Redux – Now With NEWTONIAN Physics!, SchmuckFeatures writes, “I’m sure everyone’s familiar with this image:”

“My version of it turned into… this.”

Music: “Vessels” by Philip Glass, from Koyaanisqatsi. Via Kyle McElroy.

Everything’s majestic +1 when you throw some Philip Glass at it, eh?

From Hypoallergenic:

All art lovers have had those revelatory moments when visual art just blows our minds. It’s surprising, beautiful, provocative, painful, confusing and every kind of emotion at once. I think that’s what the small child in this video is feeling when he wanders into one of Yayoi Kusama‘s infinite dot rooms, installed in Pittsburgh’s Mattress Factory. Also, it’s SO CUTE.

[via Audrey Penven]

… I don’t even know.

These were done by artist Dorothy Tang for the Star Wars x adidas Originals Collection launch in Taipei. Larger images can be seen here.

[via the constantly delightful Wunderkind Jellygraph]

Before finding these illustrations I had never heard of the Slovak illustrator, Albín Brunovský. It was unsuprising to learn that he was quite well-known, and well-regarded, in his own country. This series of women with fantastical heads pieces, some of them growing out of their owners’s heads, features a perfectly surreal juxtaposition of the absurd and macabre.