this is the anthem

this is the anthem

this is the anthem

What does it mean
When a psychopath you had an emotional affair with who PLAYED you and god knows how many others still gives you the chills Why are you still attracted to this piled of stinking garbage?
This is the truth on the inside - someone who rejected you because they thought you were 10 years younger than your real age - who obsessed over you hunted you…SHIT
And used you for an ego boost - real bad psycho narc textbook shit.
But in 30 seconds - no - 5 - when you talk on video - you lock eyes - and the next day you are walking around with too many of those chills - like you are really connected to this person or to the spirit world….
It sucks.
When you gaze at your current situ. It’s like the eyes of a cow. Horses have more depth. And then there’s that thing where the gaze is wide open and you enter infinity. Have you opened too? Is it just: the imprint of violence. Can’t you not escape the imprint of violence. That is so much deeper than wherever a vertebrae ends. Are you looking at a mirror. On those who know speak the language - that opens - that box - the one you have carried since your inception…at the beginning. No snow. No food. Too cold. Nothing for you. These things dig holes that make you hungrier than most. Turn you - into a wolf. You are not comfortable on a couch. It makes you feel - guilty. You are never doing enough. You have no time to eat. But your eyes feast like the blind that can see on visual things - whatever code they may be.
What torture is this?

The Upior.
It is so human after all. Human All Too Human. Nietzsche died of some horrific syphillitic madness. Such horror and syphillis was so normal. It’s so weird to think of that normalcy if you get down to the brass tacks of society I would like to make a film of any time period that really address these details - walking down the street you can see smell the world shaped by infirmity. In so many ways. Your step your gait your chin your nose you level of pain endured on a daily basis and the baseline of starvation is not comfort but simply: having enough food to eat. Not everyone walked straight. It’s not a theater…after all. It still is not a theater. Maybe that is a point of what I do…I do not do theater. That means nothing in terms of images - but it means a lot in terms of the awareness that comes through them.
btw. Nietzsche is kind of a Polish or...? Name. Piene is Norwiegan.

This is the Anthem.
Blind Daughter of Tuonela I am
Blind Daughter of Louhi she is
The Beauty that you feel is not what you see
That I see
That's right this is the Anthem. The dead. The Undead. But not the soon to be dead.
All the superficial things that are not even surfaces that occupy your head. They are not in your...bed. What's in your bed. Everything. All your dreams. And you.
I went to a deathcamp. You would think I would be interested in that. I am not. All of history is an invisible ghost - that we live breathe drink sleep in...and we don't know - where we are and where we go. We don't know what things happened - under our feet. Whose bones on which we walk. Who has been and what has been where - on top of where and where and the meaning of a place so terrible - the scale of which we cannot imagine - without dying - is lost...and was never found. History is an impossible situation. We can learn more from 1 button than we can from a whole barracks. At least there are looking closely. And not - casually. Ah this show - I won't even name it - don't use that stuff in art is the only thing I have to say. As soon as you do - whether seriously or blithely - if you were not there - you claim some authority - in the act of using it - and so make yourself - a fool...and instant fool. Instant noodle fool.
This is why monuments are so hard - so difficult - to be anything but - bald statues. Pigeon roosts? Another roof. Like, I am alive - and no one gets my life right. I will speak with my own voice - and it will get warped - twisted - recalibrated - misheard - reheard - ignored - and so will many others. And those that you do hear. What do you hear? Do you hear yourself? Do you seek yourself? My greatest compliments always came from - accidental postmen - and great artists. We identifty with each other. And activtists, freedom fighters: Muhammad Ali. Over the whole course of history. To have a voice that loud - you need a lot of screen time and a lot of money - and you have to tell everyone to go fuck themselves in no uncertain terms. You have only your terms to work with. If you don't listen to that - you will fight with yourself - your whole life. The amount of people who have tried to tell me to be something I am not - to fir something they want - not because they are strong or smart but because they are weak and stpid - I cannot count. People get inspired - and upset - when you don't fit into their box. And they don't know what to do. Sometimes, they will do everything they can, to hurt you. Dull you. Take away your shine. Use you. Because they so jello. Ali. You have always been with me. Harriet - with me and my daughter. From Day 1. Celine - you scare me - but I paid attention to your words The glug glug glug. So honest. And I don't know what that line is in French.. Genet - you are brutal. I can go on all the way to...Montaigne. My main dude. Sitting in himself. With such honesty. And fortitude. And further back than that. I just got started.

LOVITAR - Blind Daughter of Death

"Loviatar, vaimo vanha,
pahin Tuonen tyttäriä,
ilke'in manattaria,
alku kaikille pahoille,
tuhansille turmioille.
Sill' oli muoto mustanlainen,
iho inhon-karvallinen.
Tuopa musta Tuonen tyttö,
ulappalan umpisilmä,
teki tielle vuotehensa,
pahnansa pahalle maalle.
Selin tuulehen makasi,
kaltoin säähän karkeahan,
perin viimahan viluhun,
kohin päivänkoittehesen."

(Elias Lönnrot, Kalevala, 5th Rune, 1849)


"The blind daughter of Tuoni,
Old and wicked witch, Lowyatar
Worst of all the Death-land women
Ugliest of Mana's children
Source of all the host of evils
All the ills and plagues of Northland
Black in heart, and soul, and visage

Evil genius of Lappala
Made her couch along the wayside
On the fields of sin and sorrow
Turned her back upon the East-wind
To the source of stormy weather
To the chilling winds of morning."

(source will be cited)


"A girl there was of Tuonela
an old woman
the worst of Tuoni's daughters
wickedest of death-daughter's
source of all ills
a thousand downfalls;
she had a swarthy face, a
skin of loathsome hue.
Well, that black girl of Tuoni,
the sightless one of the depths,
made her bed upon a road
her litter on evil land
lay with her back to the wind
her side to the rough weather
her rear to the chilly blast.

(source will be cited)


"The girl of death's domain was blind, Lovitar, an old woman
Death's worst daughter, the wickedest daughter of the Abode of the Dead,
source of all evils, of thousands of disasters
She had a very dark coloring, a vile colored skin
That dark girl of Death, the half-blind one of Waste-Land
Made her bed on a pathway, laid her pallet on bad ground
She lay down back to the wind, aslant to the severe wind,
Back to the blasting cold, facing the dawn."

(source will be cited)