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The Concord Bridge .. the view the British saw, bridge reconstructed. They had to cross it for another try to secure or seize the militias armory .. the Minutemen Armory & Arsenal
49er Crew, Spring 2016
Existentialism in Paris
We may not be wearing 49er gear because it was a lot colder in Paris than any of us expected but our professor, Dr. McReynolds in the sunglasses, snapped this one of all of us as proud Charlotte 49ers! GO NINERS!
"Huis Clos" Play Rehearsal In Progress. Follow us www.mesmeriseme.co.uk/what-is-hell, twitter.com/#!/HuisClos_2011, www.facebook.com/pages/Huis-Clos-MesmeriseMe-2011/1212970...
We often speak of time as though it were a healer, as though its primary work were to soften pain, close wounds, and carry the soul gently past what once troubled it. But lived experience is often less merciful and more exact than that. Time does not always remove. Sometimes it uncovers. Sometimes it strips away the urgency, vanity, confusion, and defensive noise that once kept us from seeing what had been present from the beginning. This image turns toward that harsher and more clarifying truth. The room is familiar. Nothing dramatic has happened to it. Its furniture remains. Its structure persists. Yet the atmosphere has changed because the one who stands within it has changed. He is not revisiting a transformed world. He is standing inside an old world with newly ripened sight.
That distinction belongs deeply to the lived-world of Confessions to the Empty Chair. The book repeatedly returns to the fact that experience is rarely understood while it is being lived. The soul moves through scenes, attachments, injuries, desires, silences, and confusions without possessing a complete interpretation of them in the moment. Later, after time has done its austere work, the same events reappear under different light. What once felt ordinary becomes charged. What once felt merely painful becomes intelligible. What once seemed innocent reveals its concealed structure. What once seemed incomprehensible begins to disclose its moral and psychological logic. In that sense, time is not a magic solvent. It is an agent of disclosure.
Phenomenologically, this means that the past is never simply stored and retrieved as a fixed sequence of finished objects. The past returns through the present self. It is seen through the accumulated formation of the one remembering. That does not mean truth becomes arbitrary. It means truth often becomes available retrospectively, after the self has acquired the depth required to recognize it. A room from earlier life is never only a room. It is a field of prior perception. To stand within it again is to encounter the difference between what one saw then and what one can see now. The image preserves precisely that interval. The man does not dramatize revelation. He stands still, as though the real event is not outward but perceptual: the dawning recognition that the scene had always contained more than he once allowed it to mean.
This is why the aging of the room matters. Worn edges, softened surfaces, and dust suspended in the fading light do more than provide atmosphere. They testify to endurance. Time has not erased the world. It has marked it. Those marks become interpretable only when the observer has also been marked. In the book’s broader vision, this is one of the central burdens of consciousness: life cannot be grasped all at once. One must live before one can read what one has lived. By the time meaning arrives, the event itself may already be over. Yet that delay does not invalidate truth. It is often the condition under which truth becomes bearable.
Psychologically, the image addresses the painful difference between immediacy and comprehension. During an event, the self is busy surviving, desiring, reacting, defending, or misreading. It does not stand outside itself with ideal objectivity. It is immersed. Only later, after emotional intensity has settled and older self-protections have weakened, can a person begin to perceive what was actually occurring. He sees patterns he once mistook for accidents. He recognizes motives he had disguised from himself. He understands that certain absences, tensions, and distortions were not new developments but longstanding realities he lacked the capacity to name. Time, then, becomes revelatory not because it invents meaning, but because it removes the conditions that once obscured it.
There is also a theological seriousness to this image. In Confessions to the Empty Chair, truth is not always delivered as immediate certainty. It often emerges through delayed recognition, through the humbling experience of realizing that the soul was less perceptive than it believed. This humility matters. It breaks the illusion that we are transparent to ourselves in real time. It suggests that the self requires purification not only of behavior, but of sight. One must become the kind of person who can endure what reality shows. That process takes time because conversion of vision is rarely instantaneous. The heart has to be stripped of certain attachments before it can perceive clearly. The ego has to lose some of its privileges before the world can appear in its more truthful proportions.
This is what makes the title so precise. “Time Revealed What Was Already There” refuses the comforting fiction that reality changed into something newly meaningful. Instead, it confesses that the deeper change occurred in the observer. The world had long been saying something. The room had long contained its own testimony. The difficulty lay in the soul’s unreadiness to hear it. Time did not place truth into the scene. It made the self answerable to truth already present in the scene.
That insight runs through the book as a whole. Human beings do not merely suffer events; they outlive them into understanding. They do not simply remember; they re-encounter what memory could not originally hold. They do not merely age; they come under the judgment of meanings that arrive late but arrive with force. The delay can feel cruel because it reveals how long one lived without seeing. Yet it can also be merciful, because not all truth can be received at once. Some recognitions require distance. Some require loss. Some require the slow erosion of illusions.
In the end, this image is not about nostalgia. It is about belated clarity. It is about the moment when a person realizes that the past was never as mute as he thought. Time has not healed him by making the scene disappear. It has done something more demanding. It has returned him to the scene with eyes capable of reading what had been written there all along.
Het regent niet. Het valt. Een mens knielt in de modder, niet om te bidden maar om te blijven. Haar kleren zijn zwaar, haar handen vuil, haar gezicht omhoog. Alsof het antwoord daar hangt. De wereld is grijs en geeft niets terug. De regen wast niets schoon. Hij herhaalt alleen. Dit lichaam houdt stand zonder heldendom. Er is geen troost, wel adem. De foto zwijgt hard. Ze zegt: dit is wat overblijft wanneer hoop geen richting meer heeft. Toch is er beweging. Water stroomt. Tijd gaat verder. Dat is genoeg. Voor wie kijkt blijft alleen natte stilte en een lichaam.
Good words ... mindful of the Electrical Engineer & Scientist Tesla's observation -- so much in, and so little out. (He discovered the principal of electrical inversion.)
Whether he met Emerson via Edison is unknown ... but the word to gifts given of patriotism and arts and science are comparable.
Lord Ra Riaz Gohar Shahi said, ‘There is a hidden treasure in you, but you are not aware of it. Your illness is within you and its remedy also is within you, but you are not aware of it.’ medium.com/messiah-foundation-international/the-hidden-tr...
Existential Despair
Existential despair is the loss of identity and the loss of hope. I wanted to portray this in 3D form and so i aimed to produce a person seemingly in despair. I tried to produce this work in the style of Giacometti who used existentialism in his work and was known to be friends with Jean-Paul Sartre - a main figure in existentialism.