One of those times when a thought gets into your head as you're waking and won't shake loose. Something on the edge of a dream, but in this case more a semi-conscious linguistic spiral, half-formed in the mind. The thought is of two identical notebooks, one titled/named "things that can be imagined" the other "things which cannot be imagined". As the thought (which owes some money to Borges I guess) unravels (ravels?) it's about a person with these two notebooks, constantly making notes in the former, but with the growing conviction that his best work is in the latter. I'm unclear if this second book – of "things which cannot be imagined" – is just empty or if it contains examples of in some way paradoxical or self-canceling images ("a dull light that is blindingly bright"). More likely it seems that it's empty.
Vlatka sent me a link to Wiliam Lamson's work. There's so much interesting stuff at his site I can't figure out what might be my favourite piece there – the animations/video loops are very cool – short, fragments many involving a simple action, mechanical trick or camera process that generates an enigmatic or blank event – balloons that burst each other, a foot that seems to be dragging a camera, a body that moves along the ground.
Awake for more than two hours and still wondering what I am doing exactly.
I liked the 'wrongness' of these images.