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"The School of Francis Bacon opens up the valves of Sensationism. In the Beginning there was always already only Sensation which was always always already before the construction of the conceptual, meaning and narrative - (which are always already added after the event of Sensation). Abstract Art does not exist. Conceptual Art does not exist. Contemporary Art does not exist. Sensation of the Image exists. Sensation is Image. Sensation is Being. Being is Sensation. Truth is Sensation. Being Sensation. Truth Sensation."

"Art negates the conceptualization foisted on the real world...The truth of works of art hinges on whether or not they succeed, in accordance with their inner necessity, to absorb the non-conceptual and the contingent. For their purposefulness requires the purposelessness, which is illusion...Aesthetics cannot hope to grasp works of art if it treats them as hermeneutical objects. What at present needs to be grasped is their unintelligibility...By its mere existence, every artwork, as alien artwork to what is alienated, conjures up the circus and yet is lost as soon as it emulates it. Art becomes an image not directly by becoming an apparition but only through the counter-tendency to it...The subject only becomes the essence of the artwork when it confronts it foreignly, externally, and compensates for the foreigness by substituting itself for the work...Actually, only what does not fit into this world is true."

Edgar Degas, Degas by himself, Edited by Richard Kendall, Macdonald & Co., 1987.

"It is not the strength but the duration of exalted sensations which makes exalted men."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Maxims and Interludes, Beyond Good and Evil, Penguin Classics, 1973.

"Life is a series of sensations connected to different states of consciousness."

"Thoughts are the shadows of our sensations - always darker, emptier, simpler than these."

"I'll tell you how I think of my own work: it unlocks the valves of sensation at different levels."

Francis Bacon from Remarks from an Interview with Peter Beard, Edited by Henry Geldzahler.

"Clear out the inner world! There are still many false beings in it! Sensation and thought are enough for me."

"Art can cease to be a report on sensations and become a direct organisation of higher sensations. It is a matter of producing ourselves, and not things that enslave us."

Guy Debord, These on Cultural Revolution, Guy Debord and the Situationist International, The MIT Press, 2002.

"We are weighed down, every moment, by the conception and the sensation of Time. And there are but two means of escaping and forgetting this nightmare: pleasure and work. Pleasure consumes us. Work strengthens us. Let us choose."

"What I am trying to convey to you is more mysterious; it is entwined in the very roots of being, in the impalpable source of sensations."

"Colette found a language to express a strange osmosis between her sensations, her desires, her anxieties – ‘those pleasures thoughtlessly called physical’ – and the infiniteness of the world, the blossoming of flowers, the rippling of beast, sublime apparitions, contagious monsters."

"Baudelaire's obsession, his 'speciality' (indeed, his trademark), was the 'sensation of the new'. Benjamin speaks of 'the inestimable value for Baudelaire of nouveauté. The new cannot be interpreted, or compared. It becomes the ultimate retrenchment of art.' Making novelty 'the highest value' was the strategy of l'art pour l'art, the aesthetic position Baudelaire adopted in 1852."

Susan Buck-Morss, The Dialectic of Seeing: Walter Benjamin and the Arcades Project, MIT Press, 1991.

"Art challenges commonsense experiences by composing sensations which are a composite of percepts and affects from the perspective of aesthetic theories."

Tamsin Lorraine, Irigaray and Deleuze: Experiments In Visceral Philosophy, Cornell University Press, 1999.

"...the notion of sense data or sensation itself is really a part of a scientific theory of perception, not a philosophical theory. . . Philosophers often have to rush in where behaviourists fear to tread."

"One might have thought that a philosophy of 'absolute knowledge' would have to renounce sensation. On the contrary, we see that absolute knowledge can only be effected through beings who are essentially sensing, that is, essentially constituted by an immediate relation to an apparent other, which is equally to say that we must be embodied."

John Russon, The Systematics of Hegel's Visual Imagery, Sites of Vision, Edited by David Michael Levin, The MIT Press, 1997.

"Let us turn briefly to the philosophical debate that asks whether a sensation is a thought. This debate has important ramifications for contemporary philosophical inquiry, but its origins date back to antiquity....Sensation, which cannot be reduced to ideas even though it is intrinsically dependent on them, can never be equivalent to Intelligence...Nevertheless, sensation can only exist if it makes itself intelligible...The difficulty of defining sensation prompts us to shift our discussion to a disorder that has attracted the attention of psychotherapists, psychiatrists, neurologists, and contemporary psychoanalysis: autism...I refer to this ailment because its specialists have offered a useful theoretical understanding of sensation and of the relationship between sensation and language."

Julia Kristeva, Is Sensation a Form of Language? ; Time and Sense, New York : Columbia University Press, 1996.

"Proust thus uncovered a form of memory, beyond the control of our consciousness. Recollection is suggested by some unexpected physical sensation (perhaps unimportant in itself) such as a faint scent, taste, or sound. But that sensation has in the past been associated with a number of definite impressions, and when by chance the identical sensation recurs years afterwards, all the impressions (associated with it) also rush back, en masse. 'It is a complete fragment of the past, with its original perfume, that is for a moment given back to us.' Resurrection of the past as the aftermath of an accidental, involuntary physical sensation is the keystone of Proust's conception of life and art. It combines past and present."

Jeannette Lowen, Doing Time with Marcel Proust, Humanism & the Arts, Council for Secular Humanism.

''Disgust uses images of sensation or suggests the sensory merely by describing the disgusting thing so as to capture what makes it disgusting...For one thing, it is easy to come up with words to describe disgusting sensations when these are moist, viscid, pliable, than when they are dry, free flowing, or hard. For every disgusting scabby or crusty thing there are tens of disgusting oozy, mucky, gooey, slimy, clammy, sticky, tacky, dank, squishy, or filmy things...We thus talk of how our senses are offended, of stenches that make us retch, of tactile sensations of slime, ooze, and wriggly, slithering, creepy things that make us cringe and recoil...because the threatening thing is disgusting, one does not want to strike it, touch it, or grapple with it. Because it is frequently something that has already gotten inside of you or takes you over and possesses you, there is often no distinct other to fight anyway."

William Ian Miller, The Anatomy of Disgust, Harvard University Press, 1997.

"The primordial manifestation, the 'will' with its scale of sensations of pleasure and displeasure, gains an ever more adequate symbolic expression in the development of music, and this historical process is accompanied by the perpetual striving of lyrical poetry to circumscribe music in images. This dual phenomenon can be found performed in language from its first beginnings, as has just been shown."

"What can the philosophizing person stake? Answer: his own anxiety and boredom, his own listening to the call of conscience. Any philosophizing that does not take its beginning from the moments of true sensation is devoid of roots and relevance...In short, existential analytics, to be understood at all, requires existential engagement. Heidegger therefore must find a way to conjure up in his students those moments of true sensation. He must, in a sense, stage manage them...The moments of true sensation - anxiety, boredom, call to conscience - have to be aroused in his students so that the 'mystery off Dasein' that inhabits them may show itself."

Rüdiger Safranski, Martin Heidegger: Between Good and Evil, Harvard University Press, 1998.

"The difference between the impressionistic sensation, which is rapid, ephemeral and fleeting, and that of Cézanne is that his sensations result logically in the full knowledge of the subject in the classical sense. Cézanne often said that he wished to 'become classical again through nature, that is to say, through sensation.'..."

"Whenever something caught Francis Bacon's attention, his normally genial gaze took on a cold, piercing intensity - like a bird suddenly sporting its prey...If you were unfortunate enough to have that look returned on you (and if you spent much time with Bacon, at some point it became inevitable), you had the sensation of being taken apart, swiftly and mercilessly...Vision was where all the senses and all experience converged in their most complete and potent form..."

Michael Peppiatt, Bacon's Eyes, Francis Bacon & the Tradition of Art, Skira, 2004.

"Either you see a picture immediately or you never see it at all. Explanations don't help a bit. What good does it do to comment on it?...Listen, a writer like you expresses himself in abstractions, while the painter renders his sensations, his perceptions concrete through drawing and colour. If his sensations and perceptions are not on the canvas, visible to the eyes of others, then nothing you can say about them will make them comprehensible. I don't like literary painting."

Paul Cézanne, Conversation with Joachim Gasquet; Conversations with Cézanne, University of California Press, 2001.

"For Sellars, sensations are non-cognitive, because having a sensation is distinct from knowing about it. They are also non-linguistic, because thinking 'there is a pink ice cube' is phenomenologically different from sensing a pink ice cube. Sensations are described as 'self-presenting; even though they must be accompanied by a cognitive mental event for us to be aware that they are presenting themselves. And once we do know about them that knowing is considered to be 'non-inferential'. Unfortunately all of these descriptions are largely negative, and although there are many attempts by Sellars to describe this kind of knowing in positive terms, they are considered by many to be 'one of the most difficult and controversial aspects of his philosophy.'..."

Teed Rockwell, Experience and Sensation, Education and Culture: the Journal of the John Dewey Society, Winter, 2001.

"Beings will have to be thought of as sensations that are no longer based on something devoid of sensation. In motion, no new content is given to sensation. That which IS, cannot contain motion: therefore it is a form of being."

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, Book Three: Principles of a New Evaluation.

"I am becoming more lucid before nature, but always with me the realization of my sensations is always painful. I cannot attain the intensity that is unfolded before my senses....ma petite sensation..."

"How can we release sensations, affections, emotions from the tyranny of the 'I feel'? How can we reach the impersonal 'it feels'? How can we manage to find a land that is different from and extraneous to conventional feeling, in which personal experience founded on subjectivity at last collapses? Western philosophy has known the answer since the times of the ancient Greeks..."

Mario Perniola, Feeling the Difference, Extreme Beauty, Continuum: New York & London, 2002.

"Sensations were the root of everything for Cézanne. From the beginning to the end of his career, they were his pride and justification. ...The sensations for which he continued to seek an expression to the end of his life, as he explained to Henri Gasquet, the friend of his youth, were 'the confused sensations which we bring with us when we are born'. the word had, in fact, a double meaning - contact with nature 'revived within us the instincts, the artistic sensations that reside within us'. The double meaning of the word corresponds to the dual significance attaching to the paint marks themselves in the late work. It is in the last two years of Cézanne's life that the sensations are identified precisely as colour sensations, the sensations of colour that give light."

Lawrence Gowing, Cézanne: The Logic of Organised Sensations, Conversations with Cézanne, University of California Press, 2001.

"Deleuze, in his book on the painter Francis Bacon. and Deleuze and Guattari in What Is Philosophy?, characterize three elements of an artistic monument, citing the paintings of van Gogh, Gauguin, and Bacon as examples, which together render imperceptible sensory becomings perceptible. These elements are the flesh, the house, and the universe-cosmos. Deleuze says that the new problem of painting after Cézanne for all three painters was that of creating vast homogenous fields 'that carry toward infinity' as the ground for a figure/flesh which preserves the 'specificity or singularity of a form in perceptual variation. One might say that the 'flesh,' as the element of the painting most closely associated with an embodied subject, represents a perspective on sensory becoming. Although flesh is involved in revealing sensation, however, Deleuze and Guattari say it is no more than a thermometer of sensory becoming. The portraits of van Gogh, Gauguin, and Bacon depict flesh in unnatural colors and broken tones. This conveys some of the variability of a passage of sensory becoming in relationship to the universe-cosmos - the monochrome fields that ground the flesh....The relationship between the first element of flesh and the third element of the field or universe-cosmos is mediated by the second element, the house, or what, in reference to Bacon's paintings, Deleuze calls the contour. In Bacon's paintings, Deleuze claims that the contour - the circle or oval, chair or bed, on which the flesh or figure is placed - acts as the membrane through which a double exchange between the figure and the background field flows. It is in this second element of the house or contour that the body blossoms. It is he house or contour that gives sensation the power to stand on its own by acting as a kind of filter for cosmic forces. The painting creates a being of sensation that stands on its own. The being of sensation is not located in the figure of the painting; that is, it is not the flesh but rather the relationship among figure, house or contour, and universe-cosmos or field."

Tamsin Lorraine, Irigaray and Deleuze: Experiments In Visceral Philosophy, Cornell University Press, 1999.

"Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion manifests a terrible, expressive violence. It does not represent any violent act. But some undefined and inhuman violence that occurred in an unseen space beyond the limits of the painting has impressed its horror on the forms and the coloured areas surrounding them...The human and bestial elements composing the figures, all rendered ambiguous by their respective deformation, are so impenetrable and enigmatic as to thwart comprehension of any explicit meaning. Any attempt to deduce prior intention in the morphology of these bodies by means of logic will fail, collapsing in admission that this painting leads into an unknown area, at whose boundaries conventional logic must halt. In Bacon, painting is not a field for the imitation of apparent reality, but an independent and artificial act emerging from the innermost and most instinctive needs of the individual, dominated exclusively by the profound, wild force of expression...More animal than human, so excessive as to become unaware of its own expressive implications: it is no longer capable of communicating anything intelligible. The very obscurity of the origin of this sensation and the likely identity of the visible subject allows the image to avoid any particular illustrative signification and penetrate instead to the quicker and more intuitive level of the mind: where sensations act, such as the modes of awareness that precede logic and run deeper than it...The profound, pre-rational faculty that emerges when a nearly superhuman force subverts the conventional order of knowledge is called sensation. And it is this that Bacon arouses and elaborates in the act of painting: it is a blind condition, because neither its nature, orientation, nor outcome are defined. It is a condition that transcends the normal state of the human condition, driving existence into a state of hypersensitivity, where it too is unaware of the outcome."

Luigi Ficacci, Bacon, 'Obsessed by Life', The Expression of Horror, Taschen, 2003.

"Philosophers are given to speaking of the will as if it were the best-known thing in the world...Let us therefore be more cautious for once, let us be 'unphilosophical' - let us say: in all willing there is, first of all, a plurality of sensations, namely the sensation of the condition we leave, the sensation of the condition towards which we go, the sensation of this 'leaving' and 'going' itself, and then also an accompanying muscular sensation which, even without our putting 'arms and legs' in motion, comes into play through a kind of habit as soon as we 'will'. As sensations, and indeed many varieties of sensation, can therefore be recognised as an ingredient of will, so, in the second place, can thinking: in every act of will there is a commanding thought - and do not imagine that this thought can be separated from 'willing', as though will would then remain over! Thirdly, will is not only a complex of sensation and thinking, but it is above all an affect: and in fact the affect of command."

"In what the senses of sight, hearing, and touch convey, in the sensations o colour, sound, rough, roughness, hardness, things move us bodily, in the literal meaning of the word. The thing is the aistheton, that which is perceptible by sensations in the senses belonging to sensibility.. Hence the concept later becomes a commonplace according to which a thing is nothing but the unity of a manifold of what is given in the senses. Whether this unity is conceived as sum or as totality or as Gestalt alters nothing in the standard character of this thing-concept...We never really first perceive a throng of sensations, e.g., tones and noises, in the appearance of things - as this thing-concept alleges, after we hear the storm whistling in the chimney, we hear the three-motored plane, we hear the Mercedes in immediate distinction from the Volkswagen. Much closer to us than all sensations are the things themselves. We hear the door shut in the house and never hear acoustical sensations or even mere sounds. In order to hear a bare sound we have to listen away from things, divert our ear from them, i.e., listen abstractly."

"In giving up the outline Cézanne was abandoning himself to chaos of sensation, which would upset the objects and constantly suggest illusions, as, for example, the illusion we have when we move our heads that objects themselves are moving if our judgment did not constantly set these appearances straight. According to Bernard, Cézanne 'submerged his painting in ignorance and his mind in shadows.' But one cannot really judge his painting in this way except by closing one's mind to half of what he said and one's eyes to what he painted. It is clear from his conversations with Emile Bernard that Cézanne was always seeking to avoid the ready-made alternatives suggested to him: sensation versus judgment; the painter who sees against the painter who thinks; nature versus composition; primitivism as opposed to tradition. 'We have to develop an optics,' Cézanne said, 'by which I mean a logical vision', that is, 'one with no element of the absurd.' 'Are you speaking of our nature?' asked Bernard. Cézanne: 'It has to do with both.' 'But aren't nature and art different?' 'I want to make them the same. Art is a personal apperception, which I embody in sensations and which I ask the understanding to organize into a painting.'..."

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Cézanne's Doubt, Sense and Non-Sense, Northwestern University Press, 1964.

"To paint from nature is not to copy an object; it is to represent its sensations...The painter must become classical again through nature, or, in other words, through sensation. It all comes down to this: to have sensations and to read nature."

Paul Cézanne, Conversation with Emile Bernard, Conversation with Cézanne, University of California Press, 2001.

"The series of Rembrandt's self-portraits, for example, leads us into different domains of sensation. And it is true that painting - and this is especially so with Bacon - proceeds through series. The series of Crucifixions, the series of Popes, the series of portraits, of the mouth that smiles."

Gilles Deleuze, Painting and Sensation, Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Flash Art, May 1983.

"...this sensation to be possessed by a sensation of dispossession and the answer I gave, this fight to conquer what nowhere can be found."

"The smoothness, the tumescence, the milky flow of feminine nudity anticipate a sensation of liquid outpour, which itself opens onto death like a window onto a courtyard."

"The things do not enter into consciousness, but rather the way that we stand towards the pithanon (sense data). The full essence of the thing is never grasped...Instead of the thing sensation perceives only a characteristic."

"Artuad appears to have been afflicted with an extraordinary inner life, in which the intricacy and clamorous pitch of his physical sensations and the convulsive intuitions of his nervous system seemed permanently at odds with his ability to give them verbal form."

Susan Sontag, Antonin Artaud: Selected Writings, University of California Press, 1988.

"Thus, perceptions, presentations, volitions, and emotions, in short the whole inner and outer world, are put together, in combinations of varying evanescence and permanence, out of a small number of homogeneous elements. Usually, these elements are called sensations. But as vestiges of a one-sided theory inhere in that term, we prefer to speak simply of elements, as we have already done. The aim of all research is to ascertain the mode of connexion of these elements. If it proves impossible to solve the problem by assuming one set of such elements, then more than one will have to be assumed. But for the questions under discussion it would be improper to begin by making complicated assumptions in advance. The primary fact is not the ego, but the elements (sensations). What was said on p. 21 as to the term 'sensation' must be borne in mind. The elements constitute the I. s have the sensation green, signifies that the element green occurs in a given complex of other elements (sensations, memories). When I cease to have the sensation green, when I die, then the elements no longer occur in the ordinary, familiar association. That is all."

"If we try to seize ‘sensation’ within the perspective of the bodily phenomena which pave the way to it, we find […] a formation already […] endowed with a meaning...the sensor and the sensible do not stand in relation to each other as two mutually external terms, and sensation is not an invasion of the sensor by the sensible. It is my gaze which subtends colour, and the movement of my hand which subtends the object’s form, or rather my gaze pairs off with colour, and my hand with hardness and softness, and in this transaction between the subject of the sensation and the sensible it cannot be said that one acts while the other suffers the action, or that one confers significance on the other. Apart from the probing of my eye or my hand, and before my body synchronises with it, the sensible is nothing but a vague beckoning."

"Sensation is an extremity of perception. It is the limit at which perception is eclipsed by the sheerness of experience, unreasoned-out, yet unextended into analytically ordered, predictably reproducible, possible action."

Brian Massumi, The Evolutionary Alchemy of Reason, New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1998.

"I feel more and more that nothing matters or will happen until someone makes a new technical synthesis that can carry over from the sensation to our nervous system. The thing I was very shocked by when I saw our things at Unesco, your three and mine, was the boring lack of reality, the lack of immediacy which we have so often talked about."

Francis Bacon in a letter to Graham Sutherland, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt, Westview Press, 1996.

"Art is a personal apperception, which I embody in sensations and which I ask the understanding to organize into a painting...We perceive things, we agree about them, they are deep-rooted in us and it is on the basis of this "nature" that we erect knowledge. It is this primeval world that Cézanne wanted to paint, and that is why his pictures give the impression of nature at its source, whereas photographs of the same landscapes suggest the works of humanity...when one looks at (his pictures) as a whole, (they give) the impression, as in normal vision, of a new order being born, of an object in the act of appearing, in the act of coming together in front of our eyes... In primeval perception, distinctions between touch and sight are unknown. It is the knowledge of the human body which teaches us in the end to distinguish between our senses. The actual experience is not found or made from sense data themselves, but directly presents itself as the center from which sense data radiate."

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Cézanne's Doubt, Sense and Non-Sense, Northwestern University Press, 1964.

"Suppose that power resides solely in the feeling of power, that, as Nietzsche says, 'It is not the works, it is the faith [or 'belief', der Glaube] that is decisive here, that determines the order of rank'. How in that case could the distinction between a rightful and a false claim be adjudicated, between 'active' willing and 'reactive' ressentiment? How could one tell (say) Zarathustra and Wagner apart if and insofar as both had the same feeling, the same pleasurable sensation of power (the same Gefuhl)? Power is inseparable from the sensation one has of power, because power depends upon a pleasurable feeling, upon a sensation of difference, 'a feeling of more power ('ein Plus-Gefuhl von Macht,'), or as he writes in Beyond Good and Evil, 'the feeling of growth, the feeling of increased power.' This is the only criterion of power. How, then, can Nietzsche coherently deny to anyone who possesses the sensation a rightful claim to power? And how certifiable is the sensation? Does feeling certify power, or is it the other way round?...The will to power, so viewed, is now vulnerable to Nietzsche's critique of decadence and ressentiment (a term whose root meaning, in the sentiment of sensation, brings us back again to the problem of power as the sensation of power."

James I. Porter, Nietzsche and the Seduction of Metaphysics, 2000, Department of Classical Studies, University of Michigan.

"How do words refer to sensations? - there doesn't seem to be any problem here; don't we talk about sensations every day, and give them names? But how is the connection between the name and the sensation set up? This question is the same as: how does a human being learn the names of sensations? - of the word pain, for example. Words are connected with the primitive, the natural, expressions of the sensation and used in their place...But suppose I didn't have any natural expression for the sensation, but only had the sensation? And now I simply associate names with sensations and use these names in descriptions."

Ludwig, Wittgenstein, The Private Langauge Argument, Philosophical Investigations.

"The self-realisation of the idea means that it negates itself and ceases to be a mere idea. What is then this not-thinking, that which is differentiated from thinking? It is the sensuous. The self-realisation of the idea means, accordingly, that it makes itself into an object of the senses. The reality of the idea is thus sensation. But reality is the truth of the idea; thus, sensation is the truth of the idea. Precisely so we managed to make sensation a predicate and the idea or thought a subject. But why, then, does the idea represent itself in sensation? Why is it not true when it is not real, that is, sensuous? Is not its truth made, therefore, dependent on sensation? Is not meaning and worth granted to the sensuous for itself, disregarding the fact that it is the reality of the idea? If sensation for itself is nothing, of what need is it to the idea? If only the idea gives value and content to sensation, then sensation is a pure luxury and a trifle; it is only an illusion that the idea presents to itself. But it is not so. The idea is required to realise itself and represent itself in sensation only because, unknowing to the idea, reality and sensation, independent of the idea, are presupposed as the truth. The idea proves its worth through sensation; how would this be possible if sensation were not unconsciously accepted as the truth? Because, however, one starts consciously with the truth of the idea, the truth of sensation is expressed only afterward, and sensation is made only into an attribute of the idea."

"Sensation, which is at the basis of sensible experience and intuition, is not reducible to the clarity or the idea derived out of it. Not because it would involve an opaque element resistant to the luminousness of the intelligible, but still defined in terms of light and sight. It is vulnerability, enjoyment and suffering, whose status is not reducible to the fact of being put before a spectator subject. The intentionality involved in disclosure, and the symbolization of a totality which the openness of being aimed at by intentionality involved, would not constitute the sole or even the dominant signification of the sensible. The dominant meaning of sensibility should indeed enable us to account for its secondary signification as a sensation, the element of cognition. We have already said that the fact that sensibility can become 'sensible intuition' and enter into the adventure of cognition is not a contingency. The dominant signification of sensibility is already caught sight of in vulnerability."

"Levinas's main aim in 'Sensibility and the Face' is to show that although the notion of sensation has been 'somewhat rehabbillitated,' it must always fall short of naming the relation to the face, the ethical relation. Sensation must always participate in the discourse of light which has defined it since Plato. Vision always discerns and receives beings in and from an illuminated space and against the backdrop of a horizon, a horizon which rules out the thought of beings as coming from elsewhere. They come as if from nowhere, as if from out of nothingness."

Paul Davies, The Face and the Caress, Levinas's Ethical Alterations of Sensibility, Modernity and the Hegemony of Vision, University of California Press, 1993.

"Philosophy teaches the eyelids to close tighter and tighter to bar anything still presented by the senses, teaches the gaze to turn inward to the soul, that screen for the projection of ideal images. The horror of nature is magicked away: it will be seen only through the blind of intelligible categories, and the weaknesses that ultimately will lay man low will be laid at the door of an insufficiently lofty point of view."

Luce Irigaray, Marine Lover of Friedrich Nietzsche, Columbia University Press, 1991.

"As opposed to the violence of representation (the sensational, the cliché), Bacon proposes the violence of sensation.....When Bacon speaks of sensation, he means two things, both very close to the notion of Cézanne. Negatively, he says that the form as related to the sensation (Figure) is the opposite of the form related to an object which it is to represent (figuration). In the words of Valéry, sensation is that which is directly transmitted, avoiding the detours and ennui of the narrative. Positively, Bacon never tired of saying that sensation is that which passes from one 'order' to another, from one 'level' to another, one 'domain' to another. Thus sensation is the master of deformations, the agent of deformation of the body....Each sensation exists a different levels, in different orders and multiple domains. So one does not have different sensations of different orders, but different orders for one single sensation...The sensation is that which is paint. And the paint, in the painting, is the body, not inasmuch as it is represented as an object, but because it is capable of evoking that particular sensation...to paint sensation, which is essentially rhythm...But in simple sensation, rhythm still depends on the Figure, it presents itself as a vibration that traverses the body without organs, it is the vector of sensation, it is that which makes sensation pass from one level to another. In contrast, in the coupling of sensation, rhythm liberates itself already, since it confronts reunites diverse levels of different sensations: it is now resonance, but it is still confused with the melodic lines, the points and counterpoints of a coupled Figure; it is the diagram of the coupled Figure...Sensation is what is painted in painting. It is the body, but not in the same sense that the body is represented as an object: rather in the sense that the body is experienced as experiencing such sensations."

"However, even as he grants special privilege to painting, Deleuze acknowledges that all the modern arts can share in the quest for a logic of sensation...Deleuze notes, modern music often employs the aural as a way to capture the chromatic, and painting often uses the visual to grab at the invisible...we might say that Logique de la sensation is Deleuze's own 'pedagogy of the image' , constructing for us the representation of a painterly practice that deforms the world to make us see anew...Deleuze notes how the primacy of blue and red in Bacon's face's serves as a reminder of the fleshy, meaty aspect of the face, but in this way the colours open up the figure to temporality, becoming flesh in mutation. As Deleuze puts it, 'colour-structure gives was to colour-force; because each dominant, each broken tone indicates the immediate exercise of a force upon a corresponding zone of the body or the head, it renders force immediately visible.'..."

Dana Polan, Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Gilles Deleuze and the Theatre of Philosophy (1994).

"In pursuit of the logic of sensation, where the philosopher, Deleuze, might be said to greet and conjoin briefly with the artist, Bacon, the former posits the notion of figure against that of figuration. Where figure is conceived as the direct relation of form to sensation, figuration is the stultification of form, the operation whereby form merely stands in place of the absent object that it is supposed to represent. Bacon's bullfights display the movement of bodily deformation and fleshy zones of indiscernibility that escape the facticity of experiencing flesh....That which Deleuze wants to celebrate, alongside the creation of concepts or the production of sense, is sensation, which he gives as the meeting place between things and thought, where difference continues to shimmer. Sensation, which sets the form into motion, participates in the surging forth of all the differential elements of life despite the persistent proximity of death."

Hélène Frichot, Bullfighting, Sex and Sensation , Colloquy Issue Five.

"He rejects illustration and narration and seeks to replace them with what he calls 'matters of fact'. These turn out to be nothing less than sensations that act directly on the nervous system...I am saying that it is the lamella that is the outcome of Bacon's efforts to avoid narrative and representation and to act directly on the nervous system. Bacon's matter of fact' turns out to be the lamella. Within Bacon's paintings there are, attached to bodies, flat bounded shapes. Usually they are called shadows by commentators. I want to think of them as the lamella...Not all the shadows are 'extra flat' but we can easily take the pink and mauve oozing matter to be the lamella...The violence of sensation has squeezed out a literal essence of being, the lamella, a puddle of being. To claim that the lamella appears in Bacon's work is to claim that he has taken the detachment of the gaze to its limit."

Parveen Adams, The Violence of Paint; The Emptiness of the Image, Routledge 1996.

"The opposition between intelligence and sensation is crucial for Bacon. Sensation may include intelligence but the intellect can bypass sensation. Bacon wants his painting to operate primarily through sensation, otherwise it becomes a mere vehicle: 'I want very, very much to do the thing that Valéry said - to give the sensation without the boredom of its conveyance. And the moment the story enters, the boredom comes upon you'...."

"The ways to avoid narrative or illustrative painting were by the abstract or the sensation, as Cézanne did. The Hegelian idea of sensing and feeling was translated by Cézanne into how to paint, how to use spontaneity and temperament and instinct and the nervous system and the vital moment to create a picture. He taught the Impressionists that sensations did not lie in the play of light and colour, but in the feeling for the form of an apple. Sensation was what was painted, not what as represented. It was what was lived while the sensation was experienced. Painting that sensation linked Cézanne to Bacon, and sensation was also the mistress of distortion. Every series of triptych by Bacon showed variants of sensation, which occasionally accumulated or coagulated....He sought the sensation that would best occupy the flesh....Above all, he tried to capture a vital rhythm in his visual sensation, as Cézanne had...He followed Cézanne in creating a sensation of endurance and clarity...The sensations of his life were the sensations of his painting."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, 1993, Crown Publishers, Inc., New York.

"The narrative is not the content of perception, but defines the structure of perception itself. Deleuze's study can help us to develop this hypothesis. It pursues the question of what the implications are of certain key expressions that Bacon has often used in interviews: 'orders of sensation' , 'levels of sensation' , 'domains of sensation' and 'moving sequences'...When we see the levels of sensation as a plurality of senses, however, we lose sight of movement in Bacon's paintings. Precisely this movement was central to Deleuze's third reading of Bacon's expression 'the levels of sensation'. Moreover, although the notions of 'sense' and 'sense organ' seem to be important for an understanding of Bacon's paintings, the differentiation of sensation according to levels does not seem to be very relevant to these paintings."

Ernst Van Alphen, Francis Bacon and the Loss of Self, Reaktion Books, 1992.

"The idea of making a sensation was always bound up with the effort of épater le bourgeois and was adapted to the bourgeois interest of turning everything to a profit."

"Deleuze offers a systematic distinction between painting as art (the figural) and illustration (the figurative) by seeing Bacon's work as essentially painterly sensation."

Andrew Brighton, Francis Bacon, British Artists, Tate Publishing, 2001.

"Each picture draws attention away from the narrative to the physical, to sensation, to flesh, death, dreams, the drastic rush of violent haemorrhaging, the frenetic tangents of dizziness on a fast rotating planet."

"Total abandonment to instinct, above all sexual instinct, was an ideal which Bacon maintained with astonishing vigour to the end of his days...And when he said that he 'painted to excite himself', he surely meant: to re-create certain extreme sexual sensations."

Michael Peppiatt, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Westview Press, 1996.

"The paint acquires a wonderful plenitude in becoming flesh. This kind of paint surface is part of the work of delivering sensations not propositions, and it is neither idly sumptuous nor 'ironically' sexy."

Robert Hughes, Nothing If Not Critical, Selected Essays on Art and Artists, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1990.

"Like everything else in Bacon's pictures each element contributes not towards the creation of beauty, but to achieve the most vivid possible communication of a sensation."

Nigel Gosling, Report from The Underworld, The Observer Weekend Review, 27th May, 1962.

"Can you make of a head an image? An image which unlocks the valves of sensation deeper than the appearance? Of course, I'm drunk today and I don't really talk very clearly."

Francis Bacon interviewed by Hugh M. Davies on August 13 1973, from Francis Bacon: The Papal Portraits of 1953.

"Fascism was the absolute sensation: in a statement at the time of the first pogroms, Goebbels boasted that at least the National Socialists were not boring. In the Third Reich the abstract horror of news and rumour was enjoyed as the only stimulus sufficient to incite a momentary glow in the weekend sensorium of the masses...Concepts like sadism and masochism no longer suffice. In the mass-society of technical dissemination they are mediated by sensationalism, by comet-like, remote, ultimate newness."

"How can I draw one more veil away from life and present what is called the living sensation more nearly on the nervous system and more violently...There was a very interesting thing that Valéry said about modern art, and it's very true. He said that modern artists want the grin without the cat and by that he meant that they want the sensation without the boredom of conveyance."

"I have nothing but sensation (Empfindung) and representation (Vorstellung). Therefore I cannot think these as having arisen from the contents of representation. All those cosmogonies etc. are deduced from the data received by the senses. We cannot think anything that is not sensation and representation. Therefore no pure existence of time, space, world, if without that which senses and represents. I cannot represent non-being (Nichtsein). That which is (Das Seiende), is sensation and representation."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Time-Atom Theory: Nachgelassene Fragmente, Early 1873.

"Isn't it that one wants a thing to be as factual as possible and at the same time as deeply suggestive or deeply unlocking of areas of sensation other than simple illustration of the object that you set out to do? A non-illustrational form works first upon sensation and then slowly leaks back into the fact....I work in a kind of haze of sensations and feelings and ideas that come to me and that I try to crystallize..."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

"The essence of sensation would then consist in gradually sensing and measuring such temporal figures with more and more refinement; representation constructs them as something coexistent and then establishes the development of the world on the basis of this coexistence: pure translation into another language, into the language of becoming."

"For me realism is an attempt to capture appearance with all the sensations which that particular appearance has suggested to me."

"If I focus my eyes on an open area, allowing the image I wish to record to steal in through the corner of my eye, I have the sensation of seeing in depth."

"Modern man conceives of reality as the series of sensations and ideas that occur in the consciousness of each individual."

Francis Bacon was described by a crass cunt critic as: "...a cheap sensationalist..." Bacon was not a 'sensationalist' but a Sensationist. Bacon said he wanted to: "...open up the valves of sensation." Bacon was not an Expressionist. Bacon had nothing to express only something to sensation. Bacon, like Degas, Monet, Cezanne, Jawlensky, Nolde was a Sensationist. Bacon let leak splattering spunked Sensationism. Authentic Sensationist art is not to be confused with the spin Sensationalist stuff of our spiv Saatchi shit.

Sensationism stems from the subconscious sea slick oil of auto-alien primordial intense instincts dug directly from the rhythms of the body's musical memory traces, from the nervous system. Sensationism seeks sow serve sever the nailed nervous system sensation via violet visceral vivacious violence aiming alterity at an agnoisse acidic abject alien arbitrary primal paint punctures.

Sensationist art grates on the nerves, sends shivers down the spine, through the nailing of tense and intense images on to the nervous system. Why is it that 'irrational' or 'arbitrary' brush marks of anti-illustrational paint have such a psychic-physically nailing visceral assault on the spine, body, nervous system - while illustrational painting (Freud) and pattern making (Pollock) remains weak, watery without real body? Michel Conil Lacoste, art critic of Le Monde, reported as he walked around Bacon's show at the Grand Palais: "It's like a punch in the face." Sensationism sews skews slithers slivers slurps seeps seeks soaks swells skin sight sighing.

Titian, Velasquez, Rembrandt, Fragonard, Turner, Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Degas, Cassatt, Nolde, Jawlensky, Bacon, Auerbach, Alien serve sperm Sensationism. Abstract Art does not exist. Conceptual Art does not exist. Contemporary Art does not exist.

The School of Francis Bacon initiates anti-illustrational alien artists seduced by subconscious Sensationism to open up the visceral valves of sensation and to make a direct assault upon the nailed nervous system. Abject Agnoisse Alien Art Froths Form From Body Being Beyond the Pleasure Principle, Beyond the Death Drive to The Dripping Drool of The Leaking Lamella slurp sensationism.

Art is Alien. Alien Art aspires to the agnoisse Abject-Sublime sludge sensation of the acidic Alien Condition cracked open oozed out.

"I love Degas. I think his pastels are among the greatest things ever made. I think they're far greater than his paintings. Some of the paintings are nothing in comparison, it's very curious...The sensation doesn't come straight out at you; it slides slowly and gently through the gaps...Another thing is, when you talk of Degas, the very great Degas are the pastels, and don't forget that in his pastels he always striates the form with these lines which are drawn through the image and in a certain sense both intensify and diversify its reality. I always think that the interesting thing about Degas is the way he made lines through the body: you could say that he shuttered the body, in a way, shuttered the image and then he put an enormous amount of colour through these lines. And having shuttered the form, he created intensity by putting this colour through the flesh."

"Degas used the charcoal and the pastel as though they were abrasive tools, their rough hatching creating at atmosphere of friction around the body which is twisted into an unlikely, if not ungraceful position, caught between agony and ecstasy."

"As early as 1949, an English critic, Neville Wallis, commented on the relationship between Bacon and Duchamp: 'Brooding over these pictures', he wrote, I became aware of the affinity with Marcel Duchamp's sensational paintings on glass...In Bacon's canvases, the indication of a glass screen enclosing his silently shrieking figures seems to symbolise the frustration of the individual who can see, but cannot reach or affect the awful prospect before him.' (The Observer, 20 November, 1949)..."

Andrea Rose, XLV Venice Biennale, Figurabile, Francis Bacon, Electa, Museo Correr, 1993.

"Most of Duchamp is figurative, but I think he made sort of symbols of the figurative. And he made, in a sense, a sort of myth of the twentieth century, but in terms of making a shorthand of figuration."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

"The dream (or daydream) of painting sensation is not exclusive to Bacon and underpins the work of numerous modern artists. Empiricism, that particularly British phenomenon, also has a part to play here, for sensation, surely, is a link with the reality that is both in things and in the self? Artists are engaged not only in experiencing sensations, like anyone else, but in evaluating them, in knowing and recognizing them, and refining them as to give them new form. Cézanne and Bacon share an idea of the continuity between the object viewed and the sensation this produces in the viewer, a continuity that is almost physical. The artist's job is to record this sensation. In Bacon's case the sensation passes directly to the nervous system, without the intermediary of the brain or intellect, less still of knowledge and speech. Listening to Bacon, it is easy to understand how little this sensation has to do with the sensational, with facile effects, or with feelings of repulsion or passions of any kind."

"The levels of sensation are like a series of freeze-frames, snapshots of movement, which together synthetically recompose the movement in all its continuity, velocity and violence: as in synthetic Cubism, in Futurism, in Duchamp's Nude. And it is true that Bacon was fascinated by Muybridge's decompositions of movement, and used them as material."

"As in his comments on Duchamp's famous 'Nude Descending a Staircase', Bacon tried to make his beings more dramatic in their stepping out, while Duchamp wanted to keep movement central. He did not want to make something mechanistic, a mere motor moving downstairs. He tried to cancel out all implications. 'He was the first of this century to attempt that. Seurat did the same thing - as they in America, to keep it cool.'... Bacon thought that Duchamp had successfully changed the technique of art by not being avant-garde and trying to create a new art. He made symbols of the figurative, 'a sort of myth of the twentieth century'. Although Bacon preferred Duchamp's philosophy to his individual works, I saw him at that retrospective exhibition studying each picture with the intensity of a kestrel hovering hovering over a field mouse."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, Crown Publishers, 1993.

MP: "But I mean that there is the person's appearance, and then there are all sorts of sensations about that particular person."

FB: "I don't know how much it's a question of sensation about the other person. It's the sensation within yourself. It's to do with the shock of two completely unillustrational things which come together and make an appearance...One needs the specific images to unlock the deeper sensations, and the mystery of accident and intuition to create the particular. Now I want to do portraits more than anything else, because they can be done in a way outside illustration."

"I work in a kind of haze of sensations and feelings and ideas that come to me and I try to crystallize...it's not so much the painting that excites me as that the painting unlocks all kinds of valves of sensation within me which returns me to life more violently....Certainly one is more relaxed when the image that one has within one's sensations - you see, there is a kind of sensational image within the very, you could say, structure of your being, which is not to do with a mental image - when that image, through accident, begins to form.....In working you are really following this kind of cloud of sensation in your- self....Isn't it that one wants a thing to be as factual as possible and at the same time as deeply suggestive or deeply unlocking of areas of sensation other than simple illustration of the object that you set out to do?... An illustrational form tells you through the intelligence immediately what the form is about, whereas a non-illustrational form works first upon sensation and then slowly leaks back into the fact."

"I believe that realism has to be re-invented. It has to be continuously re-invented. In one of his letters Van Gogh speaks of the need to make changes in reality, which become lies that are truer than the literal truth. This is the only possible way the painter can bring back the intensity of the reality which he is trying to capture. I believe that reality in art is something profoundly artificial and that it has to be recreated. Otherwise it will be just an illustration of something - which will be very second-hand......Of course one does put in such things as ears and eyes. But then one would like to put them in as irrationally as possible. And the only reason for this irrationality is that, if it does come about, it brings the force of the image over very much more strongly than if one just sat down and illustrated the appearance.....We can't go on and on reproducing the Renaissance, or nineteenth century art, or anything else. You want something new. Not an illustrative realism but a realism that comes about through a real invention of a new way to lock reality into something completely arbitrary".

The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames and Hudson.

"When Kitaj first coined 'School of London', he meant no single orthodoxy, and certainly not simply these six or seven planets clustered about Bacon's black sun."

Timothy Hyman, Mapping London's Other Landscape, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

"Bacon has been a model of intellectual freedom and stylistic audacity to the whole School of London."

Michael Peppiatt, Could There Be a School of London?, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

"To me it's not a 'school' at all. I mean, I think perhaps the Americans had a school of Abstract Expressionism, but the last real school was the Impressionists, when there were a number of people attempting to do, not the same thing, but who were interested in the same aspects of colour and way of conveying things...I think the people in the School of London would have always been figurative. I don't think I had any influence at all."

Francis Bacon on The School of London, Francis Bacon: Reality Conveyed by a lie, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

"When it comes down to it, I' m not sure that that the word 'school' means anything more than artists with a very general similar interest."

Michael Peppiatt on The School of London, Francis Bacon: Reality Conveyed by a lie, Art International, Autumn, 1987.

"Nor did Bacon have successors. There was no school of Bacon. He fomented no fashion, suffered no disciples, occasioned no print other than his own, went against the grain. He was a figurative dissenter at the height of his powers during the hegemony of abstraction (which he regarded, scornfully, as mere pattern-making). He was just about inimitable."

"Originality must involve more than breaking rules; its deformations must allow the possibility of reformation. The litmus test of exemplarity, namely succession, is not as unified or simple a Kant's presentation of it makes it appear. Roughly, on the one hand, Kant equates exemplarity, and hence succession, with providing new ways of making sense: Succession which relates itself to a precedent, not imitation, is the correct expression for the influence which is the product of an exemplary originator can have on others; which means the same as this: to create from the same sources out of which the former himself created, and to learn from one's predecessor only the way to produce in such creation oneself. (CJ, 32, 283) An example of succession in this sense would be the founding of a new 'school' of painting or poetry. The exemplary work would provide possibilities, in the plural, that were not previously available; and while succeeding works may alter what what we conceive those possibilities to be, it would remain the case that the 'original' exemplary work was the 'origin' with respect to which succeeding works had their sense."

J.M. Bernstein, The Fate of Art: Aesthetic Alienation from Kant to Derrida and Adorno, Polity Press, 1992.

"I know that teaching is one of the methods by which many artists survive, but how can you teach? In a period where there is no tradition, there is nothing to teach. You can teach your own attitude. The only thing I can understand for art schools would be for them to have a few extremely intelligent people whom the people who are striving to be artists of some kind can come and discuss their problems with. Otherwise there is nothing to teach at all."

Francis Bacon to David Sylvester, 1975, Looking Back at Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 2000.

"My idea would be that one might finally establish a studio and then bequeath it to posterity for a successor to live in. I do not know if I am expressing myself clearly enough, but in other words, we are engaged in work on art, on projects that are not for our own times alone but can be continued by others."

"I think it would be more exciting to be one of a number of artists working together, and to be able to exchange...I think it would be terrible nice to have someone to talk to. Today there is absolutely nobody to talk to...But I think artists can in fact help one another. They can clarify the situation to one another....I've always hoped to find another painter I could really talk to - somebody whose qualities and sensibility I'd really believe in - who really tore my things to bits and whose judgement I could actually believe in."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987.

"Now both Edwards and Bacon are dead, and Bacon's studio is buried in Dublin, 7 Reece Mews could be converted back into a studio for the School of Francis Bacon with the aid of grant from the John Edwards Charitable Foundation."

"The realist movement no longer needs to fight with the others; it already exists, it must show itself as something distinct, there must be a salon of realists."

Oil 1999 Patrick Cuenot Figure with Two Owls 1965 Francis Bacon Oil 2003 Patrick Cuenot

'Abstract Art', 'Conceptual Art', 'Contemporary Art' do not exist because such conscious constructs are always already obnoxious oxymorons propagated as political programmes, puerile products of 'political correctness' and are always already alien to thrown authentic alien art: The School of Francis Bacon invites initiates intense anarchic angoisse awe atta alien artists as sew serving sublime Sensationism so sowing an abject Aletheia authentic alien aesthetics orbiting outside conscious conceptual constructs.

The thrown shot Sensationist art of vivacious Velázquez, Rembrandt, Titian, Fragonard, Turner, Goya, Van Gogh, Cézanne, Manet, Degas, Cassatt, Monet, Corinth, Soutine, Picasso, Nolde, Jawlensky, Gaudier-Brzeska, Bacon, Gormely, Alien is intestine instinctual Sensationism activating arbitrary accidents: non-narrative, non-conceptual, non-contemporary created via voluptuous violent intensity inking instinctual subconscious slime slurp sensation seeping froth form from the thrown nailed nervous system and also nailing the thrown nervous system: Sensationist art activates intense instinctual images of oozed agnoisse Alien alteric aroma.

Bacon said to Michael Peppiatt: "What I do feel is that figuration - painting - will take on tremendous vitality once again, now that we've been through that very depressing , decorative period of abstraction. Not only in England, but anywhere. I think it will come about." (Francis Bacon: Reality Conveyed by a lie, Art International, Autumn 1987).

Hearing Heidegger sedately says Sensationing - unlike Thinking - seeps spilt sowing:

So seeping shuddering shimmering Sensationing swallows up under the Ground for Sensationing is never Grounded floating free from Foundation free from Logic free from Concept free from Thinking thrown through thrusted Thingness opening out Otherness.

Ludwig Wittgenstein wrote Tractatus Logico Philosophicus as a Non-Sense of Lie-Logic. Wittgenstein wrote wittingly: “The right method of philosophy would be this. To say nothing except what can be said." Except that nothing can be said only sensationed and nothing is said in the Tractatus. Wittgenstein wriggles: "My propositions are elucidatory in this way he who understands me finally recognises them as senseless...Where one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent."

The trash Tractatus silences Sensationism and does not Speak or Sensation seeing Logic as Nonsensical for Wittgenstein's sentences seep no known Sensationism so sowing language without leakage, sentences without spillages words without waste. Where one cannot speak, thereof one must be sensation. The Tractatus touts totalising positivistic propositions so sensationing nothing negating surplus spillage slurp slime stuff such as an alluring angoisse luminous leaked lamella. The world is not 'the totality of facts', but of sensations.

Wittgenstein shows us that the puerile propositions of the turgid Tractatus are as pure non-sensationist where welded leaden Logic is inert left locked-in-its-nothingness negating the thrown stagnant smelliness sown seeping sensational slipping slime states. For filtered locked Logic does not leak, linger, shimmer, shudder, slip, spill, slush, sludge, soak, stink, sow, so left lacking a Shining as a Sensationism scent so lost lie 'Logic' cannot have a 'Logic of Sensationism' for Sensation splatters spurts shines shudders oozed outside locked 'Logic' which without wetness cannot Leak as an alien Anxiety. Heidegger hears: "From ancient times the theory of thought has been called 'logic.' But if, now, thinking is ambiguous in its relation to being - as offering both a horizon and an organon - does not what we call 'logic' also remain ambiguous, according to the view under discussion? Does not 'logic,' then, as organon and as an interpretative horizon of being, become completely questionable?" (Pathmarks).

Logic does not Smell, Logic does not Smaze, Logic does not Sweat, Logic does not Spunk, Logic does not Sponge, Logic does not Squelch, Logic does not Shit, Logic does not Shine, Logic does not Curdle, Logic does not Coagulate, Logic does not Glisten, Logic does not Drool, Logic does not Drip, Logic does not Leak: Logic does not Exist. Logic knows nothing of The Nothing. The Sensation of The Nothing leaks outside the nothing of Logic. Nietzsche on Nihilism contra Logic: "Nihilism doe snot only contemplate the 'in vain!' nor is it merely the belief that everything deserves to perish: one helps to destroy. - This is, if you will, illogical; but the nihilist does not believe that one needs to be logical." (Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power). Nihilism negates Logic. Sensation severs Logic. Logic is not: slimy, sticky, scabby, slithery, oozy, oily, greasy, gooey, dank, damp.

Logic has no Sensation. Logic has no Anxiety. Logic has no Boredom. Logic has no Nothing. Being has no Logic.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s thin thesis that a sensation must form some sort of 'picture' in order to have 'significance', - and that a 'pure sensation' correspondence to 'nothing in our experience' - is insane and absolutely absurd and utterly untrue and non-sense since sown sensation slits sight splits seeing punctures perception. Sensation is pure experience: 'signification' is always already added after the Event of pure Sensation: only social and psychic conditioning sutures significance to sensation but robs it of its brute and pure sensationistic impact: when an infant smells, sees and even eats its own excrement none of its seven senses tell 'it' that it is supposedly repellent and repugnant. Through cultural signification and suturing, the smell sensation of Chanel No.5 is smelt as 'acceptable' and 'aesthetic' and the smell sensation of shit is smelt as 'unacceptable' and 'unaesthetic': our social-psychic conditioning could also reverse these two smell sensations where scent becomes shit and shit becomes scent but the sensations still remain the same. What if a Rose smelt like a Shit; would we still sniff it? What if a Shit smelt like a Rose; would we then sniff it? What is the sight of smell the smell of sight?

While sensations are necessarily non-cognitive on the conscious plane - and cannot be 'known' - spilt sown sensations can be shown thrown flown forth from the thirsty subconscious stratum and the thrown seventh sense which will always already shine shimmer oozed outside consciousness and alien body of being being bled both from within and without outside thought: sensations cannot be know only thrown for Being is in fact floating flooding bled Beingsensation: one does not 'know' sensation one 'throws' and 'retrieves' sensation through fort-da-fluxing. There is no 'Question of the Meaning of Being' but only the 'Sensationing of Being as Beingsensation' where the sewer subconscious 'alien body' has a direct drooling atta access to a 'pure realm' of sensation free from conceptual consciousness.

Being has Sensation not Meaning. Being is not a product of Thought but a Sensation of Throwness. Being has no Intellect. Being has no Consciousness. Being is Alien to Thought. Being is Sensation. Being is Alien. Beingaliensensation: The Life of the Alien.

The question "What calls for sensationing" asks for what wants to be sensationed about in the preeminent sense: it does not just give us sensationing to sensation about, nor only itself, but it first gives sensation and sensationing to us, it entrusts sensation to us as our essential destiny, and thus first joins and appropriates us to sensation as a clearing to being towards sensataion as Beingsensation.

Our Thinking blocks the brute experiences of pure sensationing: thought enframes pure sensation, thought negates pure sensation. Rene Descartes never stated: "I think, therefore I am" but sensationed: "I stink, therefore I am." I sensation, therefore I am. Has not all philosophy been a misunderstanding of sensation?

The School of Francis Bacon invites, initiates, alien artists to throw sow Sensationist awe awakening an alien atta attack alteric art.

"I know the part of the canvas I want to throw at...since I have thrown an awful lot."

"...by throwing a sponge soaked with various colours against a wall to make a stain, one can find a beautiful landscape."

"The task of art today is to bring chaos into order...Art is magic delivered from the lie of being truth."

"Like those severe but tonic writers, Bacon feels his art represents the simple unalloyed truth of existence as he perceives it, no matter how hard to bear that reality may be....Basically, Bacon believes in a form of the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche's nihilism and certainly, too, in the aspect of the Greek ideal that Nietzsche so enthusiastically endorsed, the Dionysian conquest of pessimism through art."

Rüdiger Safranski, Martin Heidegger: Between Good and Evil, Harvard University Press, 1998.

"Chance commingles with a feeling of déjà vu. Not pure unified being but one that is separated is its object, a separated being that owes chance alone (to itself occurring as a separate being) the power it has to deny separation. But this negation assumes the encounter with the beloved. It's effective only when one person is in the presence of another, supposing in that other the same chance - and in a sense heightening the separation, suspending it solely for the person you choose...In love, chance id first sought out by the lover in the beloved. Though chance is also given as the two meet. In a sense the love uniting them celebrates a return to being."

"It is also the case that the philosopher must cease to be a contemporary to himself. The most essential and revolutionary a philosophical doctrine is, the more it needs to educate those men and women, those generations, who are to adopt it."

Martin Heidegger, The Genesis of the Doctrine of Return, Nietzsche by Martin Heidegger, Harper Collins, 1984.

"I am not a composer. I am a voice crying out that threatens to drown in the noise of the times."

"Is not anxiety over being - horror of Being - just as primal as anxiety over death? Is not fear of Being just as originary as the fear for Being? It is perhaps even more so, for the former may account for the later."

"The gale that blows through Heidegger's thinking - like that which still, after thousands of years, blows to us from Plato's work - is not of our century. It comes from the primordial, and what it leaves behind is something perfect which, like everything perfect, falls back to the primordial."

Hannah Arendt, Martin Heidegger at Eighty; New York Review of Books, October 21st, 197I, pp. 51-55.

"Only because Nothing is revealed in the very basis of our Da-sein is it possible for the utter strangeness of what-is to dawn on us. Only when the strangeness of what-is forces itself upon us does it awaken and invite our wonder. Only because of wonder, that is to say, the revelation of nothing, does the ‘why?’ spring to our lips. Only because this ‘why?’ is possible as such can we seek reasons and proofs in a definite way. Only because we can ask and prove are we fated to become enquirers in this life..."

"To write in ignorance or rejection of the philosophical horizon - a horizon punctuated, held together, or dispersed by the words which delimit it - is necessary to write with a complacent ease and fluency (the literature of elegance and good taste). Hölderlin, Mallarmé, many others, do not permit us this."

"The reconciled condition would not be the philosophical imperialism of annexing the alien. Instead, its happiness would lie in the fact that the alien, in the proximity it is granted, remains distant and different, beyond the heterogeneous and beyond that which is one's own."

Theodor W. Adorno, Negative Dialectics, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag 1970.

"The re-covering of immediate sensible perception in Being thus harbours two others that are ceremonially yoked without connection: what is yet unspoken, in the case of man, and what is without speech, in case of the other. But the deciphering, the release, of this seal of Being cannot take place in a language whose fundamental move is propriation. What is too near would slip its seizure. A distance, there, would be of unbreachable measure - something infinitely small whose cipher would remain in obscurity. Something that suffuses the eye and the hearing and all senses, like an air that is neither seen nor heard but nevertheless is there. Fluid medium that accompanies every perception and bestows its tone upon it. Like a silent incarnation everywhere at work."

Luce Irigaray, The Forgetting of Air in Martin Heidegger, University of Texas Press, Austin 1983.

"No one else is Francis Bacon - there is an irreducible specificity to his being-in-the-world - but as with every other artists, on can read off of bacon's work the totality of art history, a totality his work endlessly retotalizes and projects towards the future."

Dana Polan, Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Gilles Deleuze and the Theatre of Philosophy, Routledge, 1994.

"Bacon's painterliness embodies the struggle between remembering and forgetting - representation and nonrepresentation - that is at the heart the psychodynamic process that painting constitutes.....The painterliness that gives hysterical flair to the person also mutilates that being into oblivion, generalizing it toward nonbeing. That something can be so real and at the next moment an illusion belonging to the past expresses the ambivalence endemic to archaeologism. All Bacon's figures exist in a time warp; at once radically contemporary yet belonging to a dead world."

"Thus art is the creative preserving of truth in the work. Art then is a becoming and a happening of truth. Does truth, then, arise out of nothing? It does indeed if by nothing we mean the sheer 'not' of beings, and if we here think of the being as something at hand in the ordinary way, which thereafter comes to light and and is challenged by the existence of the work as only presumptively a true being. Truth is never gathered from things at hand, never from the ordinary. Rather, the opening up of the open region, and the clearing of beings, happens only when the openness that makes its advent in throwness is projected."

"How does language become art? This question poses itself here not only because the art of interpretation always involves forms of speech and text and because poetry, too, involves linguistic creations or texts. Poetic creations are creations in a novel sense. They are texts, in an eminent way. Language emerges here in its full autonomy. It stands for itself and raises itself to this standing position, whereas words are normally overtaken by the directed intentions of the speech that leaves them behind."

"The actions of religious sacrifice and of erotic fusion, in which the subject seeks to be 'loosed from its relatedness to the I' and to make room for reestablished 'continuity of Being', are exemplary for him. Bataille, too, pursues the traces of a primordial force that could heal the discontinuity or rift between the rationally disciplined world of work and the outlawed other of reason. He imagines this overpowering return to a lost continuity as the eruption of elements opposed to reason, as a breathtaking act of self-de-limiting. In this process of dissolution, the monadically closed-off subjectivity of self-assertive and mutually objectifying individuals is dispossess and cast down into the abyss."

"It is impossible to be stinting in our admiration for the intellectual vigour of Sein und Zeit, particularly in light of the immense output this extraordinary book of 1927 inspired. Its supreme steadfastness will mark it forever. Can we be assured, however, that there was never any echo of Evil in it? The diabolical is not limited to the wickedness popular wisdom ascribes to it and whose malice,, based on guile, is familiar and predictable in an adult culture. The diabolical is endowed with intelligence and enters where it will. To reject it, it is first necessary to refute it. Intellectual effort is need to recognise it. Who can boast of having done so? Sat what you will, the diabolical gives food for thought."

"Goethe observes that nobody does anything grounded by conscience...the point that Goethe is trying to make is that once you start doing something the sign under which it is done falls away. Right. For Goethe an action fails to engage in a sense the entire mind of he and she who undertakes it...Whatever prior motives one has for doing something...or whatever subsequent rationalizations one might make in one's own favour about why one did it as one does it - one does only it. Right. In this sense no action in and of itself can ever be kind of virtuous because in order to complete an action - in Goethe's terms and in Nietzsche's kind of reading of it - one has to throw everything else away. To enact is to throw aside conscience altogether. And therefore if one has to look for the sources of an action one has to look for them other than kind of in the field of conscience...Nietzsche takes then the analysis of conscienceless-ness of all action as also being in some sense a model for action. Right. That is to say anyone who wishes to under take something must in some sense forget...importantly...they must forget why they've done it otherwise their capacity to do it would be undermined...What is at stake for Nietzsche in his elaboration of Goethe is precisely the capacity to act which depends upon a radical form of forgetting...an act of passion requires that you in some sense forget the object of passion. Really what it opens up is what you might call a kind of non-intellectualist conception of action which completely opposes the normal kind of Western way of looking at an action..."

"Alterity, the otherness of the other, gives obligation. Alterity, in the face of the disappearance of God, now traces itself across the face of the other person. Divine inversion has now produced a work of human inversion, a reversal of each ego's relationship to itself, so that now each self, having lost its ties to the origin, finds itself only other and utterly alien. It is this for it is only what it is by being other and not itself. This is by no means a Hegelian self-difference that calls out to identity, but an absolute difference, an identity whose identity is difference. Now, when all identity is difference, the self cannot lodge within itself, finding there a restful space of introspection. One finds, now, that the inner is the outer. The other, no longer transcendent, is the seat of the psyche. Therefore now, expenditure, which is the gift of creation, has no other direction than toward the other. This obligation to the other is the first and most absolute responsibility and, since this predeeds eternally any conscious decision, it simply is. It is the body of matter itself."

"Art is an inherent element in the effort on the part of man to come to genuine self-understanding... art works reveal to us what and how beings are....Each art work opens its own world... A world opens itself, the earth shelters and closes; both are present in the art work. Furthermore, the work does not refer to something else as a sign or a symbol does, but it presents itself in its own Being and invites the beholder to dwell and while with it..."

"Our rare thinkers (great or less great) might just be dinosaurs - infinitely precious, too fragile, cumbersome, and monstrous. But perhaps we will still learn something by opening up the 'eggs' they left behind on our polluted shores; and by not forgetting that - beyond the cold (yet comfortable) blinking of the cursor on our word processors - philosophy has always been in keeping with suffering; philosophy was and remains suffering; it never knew, and still does not know, how to face up to it. Thought, a matter of craftsmanship? Heidegger was justified in recalling this point. But thinking is also a suffering inchoation."

Dominique Janicaud, The Shadow of That Though - Heidegger and the Question of Politics, Northwestern University Press, 1990.

"A radical trembling can only come from the outside. Therefore, the trembling of which I speak derives no more than any other from some spontaneous decision or philosophical thought after some internal maturation of its history. This trembling is played out in the violent relationship of the whole of the West to its other...But this trembling - which can only come from a certain outside - was already requisite within the very structure that it solicits. Its margin was marked in its own body. In the thinking and the language of Being, the end of man has been prescribed since always, and this prescription has never done anything but modulate the equivocality of the end, in the play of the telso and death. In the reading of this play, one may take the following sequence in all its senses: the end of man is the thinking of Being, man is the end of the thinking of Being, the end of man is the end of the thinking of Being. Man, since always, is his proper end, that is, the end of his proper. Being, since always, is its proper end, that is, the end of its proper...Must one read Nietzsche, with Heidegger, as the last of the great metaphysicians? Or, on the contrary, are we to take the question of the truth of Being as the last sleeping shudder of the superior man? Are we to understand the eve as the guard mounted around the house or as the awakening to the day that is coming, at whose eve we are? Is there an economy of the eve? Perhaps, we are between these two eves, which are also two ends of man. But who, we?"

Jacques Derrida, May 12, 1968, Margins of Philosophy, University of Chicago Press, 1984.

"What if truth were monstrous? What if it were even monstrosity itself, the very condition, the very form, of everything monstrous, everything deformed? But, first of all, itself essentially deformed, monstrous in its very essence? What if there were within the very essence of truth something essentially other than truth, a divergence from nature within nature, true monstrosity? How could one then declare the truth - if it were monstrous?"

John Sallis, Deformatives - Essentially Other Than Truth, Reading Heidegger: Commemorations, Indiana University Press, 1993.

"Somewhere there's a very hard rock, an instinct. Reality is the tough roughness of being. The painter's job is to make the images which return to reality more violently, if you're lucky."

Francis Bacon from Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, 1993, Andrew Sinclair, Crown Publishers, Inc., New York.

"At Lascaux, art is not beginning, nor is man beginning. But it is at Lascuax, in its vast and narrow cave, along its populated walls, in a space that seems never to have been a dwelling place, that art no doubt for the first time reached the plenitude of initiative and thus opened to man a unique abode with himself and with the marvel, behind which he had necessarily to remove and efface himself in order to discover himself: the majesty of the great bulls, the dark fury of bison, the grace of the little horses, the dreamy sprightliness of the stags...As we know, man is represented - and then merely by schematic features - only in the scene at the bottom of the well: there he lies, stretched out between a charging bison and a rhinoceros that is turned the other way. Is he dead? Is he asleep? Is he feigning a magical immobility? Will he come to, come back to life?...It is striking that with the figuration of man, an enigmatic element enters into this work, a work otherwise without secret...Yet it seems to me that the meaning of this obscure drawing is nonetheless clear: it is the first signature of the first painting, the mark left modestly in the corner, the furtive, fearful, indelible trace of man who is for the first time born of his work, but who also feels seriously threatened by this work and perhaps already struck with death."

Maurice Blanchot, The Birth of Art, Meridian: Crossing Aesthetics, Stanford University Press, 1997.

"Whether naive, as in the authenticity of the old photograph, or terrible, as in the brushwork that surrounds the mutilated beings of Vincent Van Gogh or Francis Bacon, the aura is always a moving experience. It reminds us that we share a fragile humanity surrounded by a fleeting halo of light; it is a kind of appeal to solidarity. For precisely that reason, it is not certain that the aura is objectifiable in Adorno's sense."

Rainer Rochlitz, The Disenchantment of Art: The Philosophy of Walter Benjamin, The Guilford Press, 1996.

"The shining of nature is the higher mien Where the day ends with such exhilaration; It is the year's majestic culmination, Where fruits unite with elevated sheen...With joy through twigs and branches, when each field Already gives to emptiness its yield, It's so alive, the shining scene's whole sense, As if enclosed by golden radiance."

"My grandmother and I could hold conversations entirely without ever opening our mouths. She called it 'shining.' And for a long time, I thought it was just the two of us that had the shine to us. Just like you probably thought you was the only one. But there are other folks, though mostly they don't know it, or don't believe it. How long have you been able to do it?... Why don't you want to talk about it?...It's just that, you know, some places are like people. Some 'shine' and some don't. I guess you could say the Overlook Hotel here has somethin' almost like 'shining.'..."

"Artworks remain enlightened because they would like to make commensurable to human beings the remembered shudder, which was incommensurable in the magical primordial world...Artworks become appearances in the pregnant sense of the term - that is, as the appearance of an other - when the accent falls on the unreality of their own reality. Artworks have an immanent character of being an act, even if they are curved in stone; and this endows them with the quality of being something momentary and sudden. This is registered by the feeling of being overwhelmed when faced with an important work...To this extent they are truly after-images of the primordial shudder...Consciousness without shudder is reified. Shudder is a kind of anticipation of subjectivity, a sense of being touched by the other."

"The shudder released by the work of art, the experience of the modernist sublime, is the memory of the experience of terror and strangeness in the face of threatening nature. Shudder is the memorial experience of nature's transcendence, its non-identity and sublimity, at one remove....Shudder is a memory, an afterimage, 'of what is to be preserved'...Shudder is the address of the other; it corresponds to what Gadamer would identify as strangeness in the object of understanding, and what Heidegger thinks of in terms of the claim of being. Above all, shudder is the terror of the sublime in Kant, a terror made safe by the reaction of the object at its source."

J.M.Bernstein, The Fate of Art: Aesthetic Alienation from Kant to Derrida and Adorno, Polity Press, 1992.

"We want to rearrange the world for you with images that you will shudder...Even if you stop up your ears, your eyes will see our myths. Our curses will fall upon you."

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Philosopher: Reflections on the Struggle between Art and Knowledge in Philosophy & Truth; Notebooks.

In the Beginning was the Sensation and the Sensation was with Sun and the Sensation was Sun. The Sun Threw the Sensation of Being. Being and Sensation. Being sensation. Being and sensation are Beingtime as Beingsensatiom. Sensation is Being as Amun Becoming. Sensation is the sound sun space shape of Time. Sensation is the Being of Time. Sensation is Beingtime. Sensationbeingtime. Beingtime shines shining shimmers shudders spilling sowing Sensationism: Sensation Being essentially eggos: shines shimmers smazes smirches slithers as an alluring Arsinoe alteric atta Aten Sensationism sensationing goes gleaming glittering glowing golden grandeur grasping groin. Beaming brightening Being Sensation tied tide to thrown time. Rhythm reeks raw ready shimmering Sensation slither sliver froth forth from tide time to bled Being born. Even sown sensation, it remains strange to assert that what is most sensation-provoking in our sensation-provoking time is that we are still not Sensationing. Sensation-provoking is what gives us to sensation. Sensationing sown shines shot through thrown time when where well the Throwing of Light is the Throwing of Time where well wet lustrous leaked Leakness registers raw the Throwness of orbited out of Thrown Time. Sensation pre-times Time all the time and Sensation pre-languages Language all the time and Sensation pre-thinking Thinking all the time and Sensation pre-politics Politics all the time: Sensation as the Thrown Image (authentic alien art) pre-exists All all the time all the time. Authentic Alien Aten Atta Art as an abject angoisse split spilt Sensationism inked is always already abtime abhistoric abconceptual abpolitical: authentic Aten atta Alien art as Thrown Sensation is always already out of time all the time so an authentic alien art could never be anything so 'human' and 'conscious' as being 'contemporary' or as being 'conceptual' or as being 'political' as such crass conscious constructs are the primitive puerile products of the They who have no 'instinct' have no 'animal' have no 'sensation' and have no 'alienality' and are tragically trapped in the evil banality of the 'intellect' ('thinking'): those meaningless passtimes of the They sadly soaked in inauthentic being and inauthentic time all the time. We need to stop 'Thinking' and start 'Sensationing': forget the 'political' the 'conceptual' the' contemporary' for they are all ended eggsited extinct. To repeat: don't think, but sensation. The thrown spilt splendour of oozed scintillating Schein Sensation surpasses superceeds suspends severs splits Thinking thoroughly: thinking cannot think sensation because sensation survives surfaces seeps slips through thinking since sensation cannot be known only shown, only shone, only thrown, through our orbiting sown seven senses wetted which waits an awakening available to tingling time. If 'man' is to find his way once again into the nearness of Being he must first learn to exist in the sensation as an awesome alien aura again oozed outside our old thrown throttled thinking. As an Arsinoe arising at atta Aten Beingsensation becomes Becomingalien again as an attanining attuning anamnesis amnesia Amun after Arsinoe. Sensationing Being, Will to Sensation, as Eternal Return, sensationing the most difficult sensation of philosophy, means sensationing Being as Time. The Will to Power as Art arrives after the Will to Power as Sensation and the Will to Power as Sensation is the Essence of the Eternal Return as the Eternal Return sensations Being as an affirmation of Being-towards-Art. Thus the Eternal Return of an atta Aten Art arising Arsinoe is not scientific but sensatific assigning-attuning alien apparition-appearance as alien artefacts freshly foaming forged-formed forth as a pure-shining as a radiating-light as a darkening-lightening letting leaking Alien Being be coming be.

Attuning Atta Aten Alien Beingtime bleeds bubbles boils glitters glistens glows soaks shines shudders slivers sensation forth froth foam forever. Leaking lamella language ooze of alien being does to 'speak' but 'senses': 'authentialienart', like authentic auratic alien leaked language, says so essentially 'no-thing:' for ' it' does not 'speak' to you; it 'says' no-thing to you. Authentic (alien) Art and Authentic (alien) 'language' has nothing to 'say' to you but sends 'sensations' to you. An authentic alien aesthetics discloses dank drool abaesthetic alienation that throws the light leaked off-on authentic alien being as becoming towards shining truth. An authentic alien abaesthetics discloses drooling aestheic alienation at the movement of the mourning of the monument of the death of the human. An authentic abaesthetic alienation as an alien abaesthetics announces the 'truth' of the alien and the 'lie' of man where authentic alien art displaces inauthentic human art. A 'human' art is alienated from 'truth': an 'alien' art is the 'truth' as an authentic alienation-wetness where thrown to be bled alienated is instead initially instinctively to be 'true' to the 'truth' of 'being alien' as a bled 'becoming' alien as an atta abject authentic alien art always already away all the time outside the no-time of the post-human. An authentic auratic aroma alien art always already cuttered cannot be born contemporary for the alien has no time of the human: to be human is to be in time to be alien is to be out of time. An angoisse authentic auratic Arsinoe aroma atta Aten alien art is not made in 'time' not made by 'man'. An angoisse authentic auratic aroma atta Aten Alien art always already assigns Arsinoe at the End of Time the End of Man. The End of Man is the Sensationing of Being: Alien is at the End of the Thinking of Being: the Ending of Man is. The Nature of Alien Being is Named as Sensationing: a single Word worlding the Essence of Alien Being. As an Alliance of Sensation and Being - the Proper Name being Sensationing: Being being Spunked scent sent always and everywhere engulfing the Nothing and the nowhere thrown throughout the something Sensationing as the Becoming of the Sensationing of Alien Being being born again as alien Alexander - Akhnaton - Atum - Atta - Amun - Anubi - Anunnaki alienationing.

But by attaining atta Aten attuning an alluring agile 'alien alienation art' aroma awe arrives at atta after annihilating 'aesthetics' and art 'man made'. You must both all three of you of course always already remember and not forget that 'great art' is 'alien made ' - not 'man made'. Alien art - as non-conceptual is - as Heidegger hears - thrown "out of the realm of the ordinary" into the alien abject abyss now negating an alien aesthetics altogether. As non-contemporary authentic Aletheia alien art aroma is Thrown out of time all the time and is thus not in the now as Heidegger heaves: "Truth is never gathered from objects that are present and ordinary. Rather, the opening up of the Open, and the clearing of what is, happens only as the openness is projected, sketched out, that makes its advent in throwness." (Martin Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art, Harper & Row, 1971). An Aletheia alien Aten atta Art can never be 'conceptual' or 'contemporary' or 'political' or 'temporal' as 'it' is primordially projected thrusted throwness outside conception outside consciousness outside time all the time as the thrown spiralling sensation of the Eternal Return. To be alien again is to be eternally Thrown out-of-time all the time as the thrown thrustness of the Eternal Return without Beginning without Ending: the thrown Universe as an Undoing has no Beginning has no Ending but Becoming as an Eternal Return reaffirming Being becoming Time in-out-of-it-no-self where we Become being Time all the time out-of-time out-of-space as a Becmingbeingsensation. The thrown Sensationing of the Nothing as a being Becoming-behind as always already ahead-before big-bang beginnings sow - so bang goes the 'big bang theory' as our oozed Universe was always already a thrusted-throwness operating out off of leaked levels of orbiting Sensationing Differance. Time has no time to begin to end but to Become as Time is out-of-time out-of-space out-of-being being there no Beginning being there no Endings but being Becoming as an Eternal Return where Time and Space are the positive Nothing of Sensationing. Sensationing started shining Being before big banging began Becoming. Eternal Recurrence as a Radical Differance delivers the Thrown Sensationing of Beingtimespace being thrown forth from out-of-oneself. The Sensational Possibility of Life in the Mind of Someone Dead! The Eternal Recurrence! The Eternal Recurrence of the Sensation! Where the Self Becomes Sensational Reincarnation through thrown time as a sensational revolving sphere. The thrown Sensation of Time of the Eternal Recurrence cannot be 'timed' by an irrational 'logical time' (commonsense clock-time) of an Aristotelian trapped temporality as the Time Sensation of the Eternal Recurrence is always already annexed Anaximandian as 'out-of-joint' as 'out-of-sync' thrown 'out-of-time' all the time not in time.

Bacon and Nietzsche experienced the Beingtimesensation of the Eternal Recurrence: as Nietzsche threw it: "where I really was" - "outside my centre" and where Bacon threw it: at the canvas outside himself. By Throwing the Eternal Recurrence one Becomes one's Historical Totality of Sensations that the Body filters in-out of Life. Thus the Dead Body leaks life: Releasing this Historical Totality of Sensations as the Eternal Recurrence ad-infinitum: returning, repeating rehearsing reeling as a Freudian fort-da-fluxing forever. The Totality of the World is the Totality of Sensations as a Constant Becoming threw throwing and retrieving as Being the Eternal Recurrence all the time. For Freud threw the psychoanalytical sensation of the Eternal Recurrence as a foamy Fort-da-Fluxing where wet the thrust of the throwing registers registers the sensation state of the psyche. Blanchot sensations Nietzsche's Eternal recurrence as Fort-da-Fluxing where Time is "an infinite game with two openings (given as one, and yet never unified): future always already past, past always still to come, from which the third instance, the instance of presence, excluding itself, would exclude any possibility of identity." (Maurice Blanchot, The Step Not Beyond, Sunny Press, 1992). For Bacon, Bataille and Nietzsche, the Eternal Recurrence is a 'game of chance' without 'meaning or aim' yet 'recurring inevitably without any finale of nothingness..."

For the att Aten alien artist is never situated at a particular point 'in time': leaked life froth foam for the atta alien artist - as anxiety - is an angoisse fort-da-fluxing fatiguing forgetting future-past-present being thrown out-of-time all the time. An authentic angoisse angst Alien Artist as an atta Aten Anaximandrian as anyway always already out-of-joint out-of-time all the time cannot be contemporary cannot be conceptual cannot be conscious for the authentic angoisse Alien Artist exists in another time as the time of the Eternal Recurrence: the between-time of the no-now never on-time always already of the too late of the too early all the time out-of-time as an Eternal Becoming turning back-forward on-off out-in of-off itself all the time not in time.

The Eternal Recurrence of the Sensations is wet where the Totality comes Thrown back Eternally into-out itself. The Will to Sensation, the Alien of beings, as constantly Becoming, as Eternal Recurrence becoming is the Eternal Recurrence is the Sensation of sensations rebounding reborning rebeing again and again where the World is the Will to Sensation and nothing besides that! And you yourselves are also this Will to Sensation - and nothing besides that!

The Eternal Recurrence can only be Caught in the Moment and Movement as a Becoming off-of an Authentic Sensationing of Time always already re-remembered as Done and Undoing of the Memory of the Future Past always already annihilating the non Now: the non Present. An alien atta Aten Anxiety ooze opens up the gulf gap of the Return Eternally emptying out over the thrown edge as an Eternal Recurrence. The Eternal Recurrence is not a conceptual construct but a particular practice, an engaged event, an articulated action: the Eternal Recurrence cannot be Thought only Thrown as a Fort-da-Fluxing: the Forgetting of the Human the Forging of the Alien. The Will to Sensation is the Opening of the Thrusting of the Eternal Recurrence. An alien art is the most materialised frothy form of the Will to Sensation. The alien artist actually becomes the Sensation of the Eternal Recurrence through the Will to Sensation by being bred as Bacon would have said: "as a pulping pulverising machine" fuck-filtering vision-vectoring severe-screening form-faceting image-initiating shining shimmering sensuous sensations. The alien artist of Beingsensationtime of the Eternal Recurrence has to always already eggsist in the Open Groundless raw region State of angoisse Anxiety. To be an atta authentic alien artist one has to be always already in a State off-of constant collapsing angoisse Anxiety as a way to shed the self from itself as a raw radically forged forgetting of humanbeingtime thrown into the black hole of Becoming whole as the Sensationbeingtime of the Eternal Recurrence. What then is the act and art of Sensationing? Forgetting intellect Forging instinct Becoming alien Annihilating human and thus the cutting off of concepts throwing off of thinking sowing subterranean subconscious spunking sensationing. The Founding of Metaphysics was Forged and Fucked on the Forgetting of Spunking by brining Thinking which displaced dried denied Spunking's shining sensationing. Spunking Sensationing - as a Metaphysical Memorial as a Metaphysical Metaphor a Metaphysical Metre a Metaphysical Meteorite - has been sidelined silenced soaked up in the History of Metaphysics in the History of Philosophy in the History of Being and ditched dried out as damp Dasein denying drooling dripping.

We cannot 'tell the time' because the Time 'cannot be told' because Time is always already out-of-time all the time not in time. Time cannot be timed because Time is the Sensation of pure Differance leaking out at different degrees of oozed-out dripping drips. Time cannot be Known only Thrown so you cannot 'have the time' you cannot 'tell the time'. To Become the Eternal Return we all have to 'forget what the time is' and to forget 'what one's time is' by willing a throwing off of being in and on time all the time being not in time out of time all the time as there is no Time like the present only a Time outside of the time of being simply and purely: no-time at all apart from an alientime all the time as the Radical Forgetting of Time is the Alien Being of the Eternal Recurrence of the Nothing of Beingsensation as Time does not exist 'in-itself' only out of orbit out of space out-of-time. You cannot 'ask for the time' and time asks nothing of you. You cannot ask 'what is the time'. The Time is not. The Time is The Nothing taking care of itself for nothing for the Time Being.

And as we well know by now 'Being-in-itself' does not exist and actually always already remains dead-dormant utterly unavailable until shone shattering shuddering Sensation illuminates 'it' through thrusted Throwness as a shining shimmering being by Becoming: so sown Sensation sets fire sets froth forth to trap blank Being being bled born bare by the Thrown Being being but born of an alien Becoming brought be by setting Sensation shining. Being comes to presence out of Sensationism shot shining out of dead darkness leaking luminous Lightening activating Amun as an auratic atta Aten alien Aletheia art.

Sensationing being throws towards Being as a Totality of Sensationing as an Essence of the being of Being sensesssencing. The Truth of the Shine of Being is shone as a sensessence as beings have their essence in sensations where the body breeds and seeds sown sensationings throwing the eternal return reel retrieving rethrowing resensationing sensations where the eternal return is the Sensation of sensations as the Schein essence of being of Being as an alighting Aten. Since the beginning of modern times philosophy entrenches itself in the effort to grasp Being by means of Thinking and this was - and still is - the Error for Being the Ereignis of Being can only be grasped by Sensationing and not by Thinking which throws Being outside the Building of Truth.

Heraclitus lets leak the Light of Thought through thrown Thinking thus Thing Came to Light through sown Sensationing. We have all long Forgotten that the Origin of Thinking was lit in the Shining of Sensationing. Now Thinking has Come to its Ending so Sensationing has to Come to its Beginning. How do you all Sensation about Thinking when Thinking has Become its Ending? The Ending of Philosophy initiates instigates invites the Becoming of Sensationing: Endings are always already ahead attuned attending Beginnings as a Becoming as Heraclitus has 'it': "What was scattered - gathers. What was gathered - blows apart - The way up is the way back - The beginning is the end. - " (Fragments: The Collected Wisdom of Heraclitus, Viking Penguin 2001). Sensationing is the Eternal Return of Presencing between Ending and Beginning as a Becoming of Sensationing. An Ending is not only a Beginning but always already about a Becoming again and again and again as the End of Philosophy and the Start of Sensationing. Sensationing is indeed Unthinking Philosophising.

In the final and highest instance there is no other Being than Sensationing. Sensationing is Primal Being, and to it [Sensationing] along all the predicates of the same [primal Being] apply: absence of conditions; eternity; independence from time; self-affirmation. All philosophy strives solely in order to find this supreme Sensation. Sensationing is True to Being. The Essence of Truth reveals itself as Sensation. Being is sensation, it does not have a sensation. The Truth of Being is Sensation: In Sensationing Dasein. Dasein Sensations The Truth. In Pure Sensation the Truth Shines. There the Truth Shines. The Truth is a Shining. The Truth is a Shining of Being. The Truth is a Shining of being as Sensationing. The Truth Shines Being Sensation yet not all beings shine: not all beings sensation: not all beings have 'the shine' of being. Only those that sensation 'the shine' of being have the Sensation Truth of Being. Being Sensation is The Shining of the The Truth of Being. Shining shines the thrown being of Beings. The Truth is solely selected to The Shining. To Those that Shine The Truth Shines. Some shine some don't. The Subject comes to Shine through a Susceptibility to Sensationing not through Thinking.

See how the beautiful blue morpho butterfly shines its iridescent shimmering sparkling wings in the shining of the sun and the sky.

Do you have The Shine? Do you have The Truth? The Truth is Out There! Shining! Flying towards the sun and the sky.

Being makes its Presence felt through the Shudder of the Shine the Shine of the Shudder. Flying towards you.

Hearing Heidegger sedately Sensationing - unlike Thinking - seeps spilt sowing: 1) Sensationing brings us knowledge as do the sciences; 2) Sensationing produces usable practical wisdom; 3) Sensationing solves cosmic riddles; 4) Sensationing endows us directly with the power to act. And it is fitting that we raise anew the question of the senationing of Being as Beingsensation. Being and Sensationing are necessarily always already infinitely indefinable as a sensationing and Being are not 'concepts' or products of 'thought' but bled bare fluxings flutterings floatings as the opening sensation of a shining aiming at alluring awesome alien alterity as Aletheia approaching an authentic Aten atta alien art as always thrown thrusted outside our thought thinking thirst.

Heidegger's Philosophy was alienist to its innermost core. Heidegger's 'Philosophy of Being' - being pre-Platonic - penetrated Primordial Being as an alienist shining sensationing by-passing pre-dating thrown-thinking language leaking where the wrong 'Question of Being' had always already been answered as an alienist 'Sensation of Being' before 'being human' housed being as a 'House of Language'. The thrown Answer of Being is Alien outside the House of Being. So sown seeping shuddering shimmering Sensationing swallows up under the Ground for Sensationing is never Grounded floating free from Foundation free from Logic free from Concept free from Thinking thrown through thrusted Thingness opening out off of Otherness overwards leaving language leaked.

Ludwig Wittgenstein wrote Tractatus Logico Philosophicus as a Non-Sense of Lie-Logic. Wittgenstein wrote wittingly: “The right method of philosophy would be this. To say nothing except what can be said." Except that nothing can be said only sensationed and nothing is said in the Tractatus. Wittgenstein wriggles: "My propositions are elucidatory in this way he who understands me finally recognises them as senseless...Where one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent."

The trash Tractatus silences Sensationism and does not Speak or Sensation seeing Logic as Nonsensical for Wittgenstein's sentences seep no known Sensationism so sowing language without leakage, sentences without spillages words without waste. Where one cannot speak, thereof one must be sensation. The Tractatus touts totalising positivistic propositions so sensationing nothing negating surplus spillage slurp slime stuff such as an alluring angoisse luminously leaked lamella. The world is not 'the totality of facts' - the world is the 'totality but of sensations' as Absolute Knowledge.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s thwarted thesis that a sensation must form some sort of 'picture' in order to have 'significance', - and that a 'pure sensation' correspondence to nothing in our experience - is absolutely absurd and utterly untrue and non-sense since sown sensation slits sight splits seeing punctures perception. Sensation is pure experience: 'signification' is always already added after the Event of pure Sensation: only social and psychic conditioning sutures significance to sensation but robs it of its brute and pure sensationistic impact: when an infant smells, sees and even eats 'its' own excrement none of its seven senses tell 'it' that it is supposedly repellent and repugnant. Through cultural signification and suturing, the smell sensation of Chanel No.5 is smelt as 'acceptable' and 'good' and the smell sensation of shit is smelt as 'unacceptable' and 'bad': our social-psychic conditioning could also reverse these two smell sensations where scent becomes shit and shit becomes scent but the sensations still remain the same.

Logic has no Sensation. Logic has no Anxiety. Logic has no Boredom. Logic has no Nothing. Being has no Logic. Being has Nothing. The Nothing.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s thin thesis that a sensation must form some sort of 'picture' in order to have 'significance', - and that a 'pure sensation' correspondence to 'nothing in our experience' - is insane and absolutely absurd and utterly untrue and non-sense since sown sensation slits sight splits seeing punctures perception. Sensation is pure experience: 'signification' is always already added after the Event of pure Sensation: only social and psychic conditioning sutures significance to sensation but robs it of its brute and pure sensationistic impact: when an infant smells, sees and even eats its own excrement none of its seven senses tell 'it' that it is supposedly repellent and repugnant. Through cultural signification and suturing, the smell sensation of Chanel No.5 is smelt as 'acceptable' and 'good' and the smell sensation of shit is smelt as 'unacceptable' and 'bad': our social-psychic conditioning could also reverse these two smell sensations where scent becomes shit and shit becomes scent but the sensations still remain the same.

While sensations are necessarily non-cognitive on the conscious plane - and cannot be 'known' - spilt sown sensations can be shown thrown flown forth from the thirsty subconscious stratum and the thrown seventh sense which will always already shine shimmer oozed outside consciousness and alien body of being being bled both from within and without outside thought: sensations cannot be know only thrown for Being is in fact floating flooding bled Beingsensation: one does not 'know' sensation one 'throws' and 'retrieves' sensation through fort-da-fluxing. There is no 'Question of the Meaning of Being' but only the 'Sensationing of Being as Beingsensation' where the sewer subconscious 'alien body' has a direct drooling atta access to a 'pure realm' of sensation free from conceptual consciousness. Being has Sensation not Meaning. Being is not a product of Thought but a Sensation of Throwness. Being has no Intellect. Being has no Consciousness. Being is Alien to Thought. Being is Sensation. Being is Alien. Beingaliensensation: The Life of the Alien.

The question "What calls for sensationing" asks for what wants to be sensationed about in the pre-eminent sense: it does not just give us sensationing to sensation about, nor only itself, but it first gives sensation and sensationing to us, it entrusts sensation to us as our essential destiny, and thus first joins and appropriates us to sensation as a clearing to being towards Sensataion as Beingsensation.

Our Thinking blocks the brute experiences of pure sensationing: thought enframes pure sensation, thought negates pure sensation. Rene Descartes never stated: "I think, therefore I am" but smelt: "I stink, therefore I am." I sensation, therefore I am as I felt a sensation pass thrown through the psyche.

Authenticalienart arrivesat SensationBingtime. BeingtowardsDeath is Beingtowardsbecoming Sensation: Out-of-Body Sensations sow Sensation of Light, Sensation of Love: death does not exist: Sensation Lives. Embodied Ending becomes beginning of our oozed Being Sensation. We don't die but remain bathed in a sea sort of shining shimmering shuddering sensation of light and love. Being Thrown out over to the Horizon of bled Becoming towards Death is Sensation Being-as-Becoming-eternal-Life luminous: lighting lifted looted lingering floating-flying freely defying defeating gravity going going going gone over out over on towards thrown thrust thirsty thymol thrusness terminus terrorist territory to Becomingalienagainandagain as an Eternal Return remembered Real. The Eternal Return always invokes Differences of Sensation.

Why are there Sensations rather than Nothing? One's Embodied-Bodily Sensation is the Shimmering of Being, the Aura of Shining; Sensation is the Aura of Being out of the world. Will to Sensation is allowing aura to Shine Being. Sensationing is the auratic Body's Mode of Being Sensation; authentic alien art, authentic alien being becoming froths forth from the thrown embodied eggo, not ego. Being 'brain dead', being 'body dead', delivers dripping brings breeds Sensation Being into being as sensation. We don't die but become born salted smelting scented sheening Sensations: shimmering shining sparkling as an alluring alien aura as Beingsensation.

Being is not a product of Thinking. Being is a product of Sensationing. Being is the shining of Sensation just as Sensation is the shining of being as becoming as shimmering: 'to be and to become' is the question of being towards sensation as sensation towards becoming being sensation. The truth of being shines in the becoming of sensation as levels of sensations as levels of beings as becomings. Beings are registered as Levels of Sensations as Becomings never fixed always floating forward as radiating riveting rotating leaked light levels of oozing spurting soaking shining shimmering smoking smaze sensations.

For Francis Bacon "thrownness" refers to his one-liner 'throw-a-way' phrases about 'life' and 'death': "there it is" or "here's to you" or "that's how it is" or "that's all there is" or "the brutality of fact" or "what's called art" or "what's called friendship" are as at the thrown eggo essential sensation state of Dasein’s Being and his manic mood of "exhilarated despair" of "how one is". Bacon becomes thrown through into stark states of oily anxiety and angst (about "nothing" because anxiety has no object only abject) which would serve sensations of oozed voluptuous violence, wonderful wounds, spurting sperm. For Heidegger and Bacon atta-anxiety so sets us free opening up a freedom as "throwness": Bacon's other "throwness" is his hand that throws the being of paint as paint as the being of becoming: for Bacon the being of paint - by being thrown - becomes the becoming of paint becoming transmutated into radical otherness. The throw soul sole strategy of the Throwing through the body - arm - hand - paint by Bacon becomes for Heidegger the 'passageway' severing thrown through serving a atta raw radical 'displacement' and 'defamiliarization' and 'unconcealment' of oozed out sealed stuffs encapsulating 'estrangement effect'. Bacon's brooding boiling body becomes the thrown opening ooze filter flow froth being bringing born becoming. Nietzsche's Eternal Recurrence and Freud's Fort Da constitute cunt Bacon's Throwing Being as a raw register oozing of being Becoming Thrown back on one's self forward-backwards all the time all the time where the thrown pushed paint shot splatters back before on one's face from the tawny cantankerous canvas: a fucked-face covered in one's own spurted spunk stuff. The Further you Throw the Closer you Become because the Further you Throw the Nearer you Become to the Truth of Alien Being out-the-world. Van Gogh and Bacon stated that the more 'unreal' you make the Image the more chance there is of 'it' being real. Bacon bled: "I would like to make images which reflect all kinds of things that I feel instinctively about my own species, and I would like, in my arbitrary way, to bring one nearer to the actual human being...I get nearer by going farther away."

Bacon's Eternal Throwing as Eternal Return is the Fort Da Fluxing of the Eternal Recurrence of oozed bled Becoming forever flooded, drenched, drowned returning ready well wet dry wet dry wet dry wet dry wet. For Bacon Eternal Throwing is Throwing Time all the time as Time Space through Time Speed and Time Body where the Thrust of the Throwing creates the Intensity of Becoming Being Time all the time. To Throw is to Become: Throwing for Bacon is Becoming. Throwing is the coming together of Being and Time as Beingtime. To Throw is to Think of Being as Time. Bacon Throws Beingtime. For Bacon the Image cannot be Known only Thrown out of time all the time which is why art can never be 'contemporary' for art is out of time all the time not on time as an exiting existentia. Bacon defines existentia as the self-sensationing Image of absolute alienality. Nietzsche throws existentia as the eternal recurrence of the sensation as Becoming alien again as the sensessence of the alien lies in its egg-sistence before being Becomes broken into out as the eternal return. Alien Egg-sistence: the cracking open and oozing out of being - Becomes the sensessence of the alien being - that is - only of the alien way to be leaked for as far as our sensation sows only the alien being is admitted to the destiny of eggs-sistence as leaking out beyond itself soaking sensationing as a shinning.

But at the Beginning of the Day Bacon's Being Throws Time. Bacon's-Being-in-the-world is in-out-itself founded on Thrown Temporality. Through throwing there then bled Bacon in initiation is: "making things available" through throwing in space in time all the time there then "making the farness vanish" bled by "bringing things close" by taking out space and time all the time (Being & Time, 139, 105). Bacon bled: the further you throw the further you remove and retrieve the thrown alien object closer away to from you like leaked Freud's frothy Fort Da Flux game again and again: to throw is to retrieve the trace and space of (not) being out (over) there-here. But Bacon bled: the more artificial you can make 'it' the more 'chance' you have of 'it' both 'being' and 'looking' more real. For Freud and Bacon Throwing these things there as a radical retrieving Throws Time bled back in-on-itself proving painfully and also logically leaked that Time is not 'linear' but 'circular' as in Nietzsche's Eternal Recurrence: Time does not 'move on' but 'bleeds back' fast-forward imploding in-on-out itself instead. There 'is' no Time 'like the present' as the 'present' is always already absent outside thrown time all the time. Experiencing being-as-thrown-time is activated and available through the Chinese Water Torture: so as constant dripping wears away a stone so the sown drip drip drip on the fixed forehead initiates insanity throwing being out of body into time where the sunk subject of being becomes thrown over to the object of time as the thing of being time in-it-self. Our out-of-body experience is being-time-in-it-self out-of-body by being-in-time. Thus the Chinese Water Torture throws the hollowing out of the subject Becoming the hollowing out of time where wet being-out-of-time Becomes beingtime out-of-itself Ining beingtime-out-of-time as activating an anogoisse abyss abliss free floating fluid fixity from tapping ticking tickling trickling tricking time-as-stasis splashing splattering sensation seeping skin drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop...drip...drop ad ab infinitum.

As Bacon bled to Beard: "Repetition can put one into a kind of trance-like state that you would never experience from a single image. The image repeated constantly puts you into a state of trance where it begins to work on you in different ways. I think that has happened with certain painters....one knows that people can be driven mad by the sound of dripping water. It may be the fact that they can't stop it or that it takes them over from their own obsession of themselves and the drip, drip, drip of the water takes them away into somewhere out of themselves where they begin to go mad." (Bacon from Remarks from an Interview with Peter Beard). Bacon's bed-ed bodies buggering in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out throws the subject oozed out of the self where contours collapse and human subject becomes born as alien oozed out object.

Allan Pettersson's Ninth Symphony (1970) is the thrown forth-da-flux falling and pulling and pushing and paining of outted trodden time to ining spiralling stasis space sailing swaying back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth forgetting where wair going goning gone go not now nothing where wheir whair to tart time task is ining pulverising time is pulsating time is pouting time is pulling time is prodding time is in potenting pourings.

Bacon bled to Sylvester: "Anything I paint, if it comes off at all in my work, I feel in myself. If I don't feel it physically, I know it just can't be working. With all the figures that work, I feel that this is physically right, and this is a thing I feel within my body." Sylvester responded: "As you're painting a figure you feel its a gesture in your own body." Bacon back: "Yes, I do." (Looking Back at Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 2000).

"I can only hope that the throwing of paint onto the already-made image or half-image will either re-form the image or that I will be able to manipulate the paint further into - anyway, for me - greater intensity....Half my painting activity is disrupting what I can do with ease." (Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987). The thrown torn alien art oozed out object as a thrown 'thing-out-itself' is an outer orbit 'un-this-worldly-object' being becoming but never nearly arriving afterwards at all the time thrust thrown there then out-of-time out-of-being.

But where had Bacon been thrown before he started throwing? How do we attend to his Being Throwness and his Becoming Throwing? Bacon does not 'choose' his 'throwness' but 'orders' his 'throwing' by 'chance' by knowing the target and time to throw by using his own Embodied Throwness as the beginning of becoming through throwing. In in-being Thrown Bacon did not 'choose' the way he was thrown into Being alien but 'chose' through 'chance' how to Throw Being through Becoming through Paint and Pain. Bacon 'chose' to eggsist and 'chose' to eggist in his alien body but by 'chance' and at a Throwness for Bacon Being towards Becoming is oozed ordered via the Body through Thrown Chance. But Bacon did not 'choose' to be 'Human' but be always already an 'Alien' outside Human Throwness thrown towards an Alien Throwness. But Bacon shows us Through Throwing that we can actually grip grasp and catch our Throwness as a raw register of Being towards Becoming Alien through the bled movement of the Body scent sense Through Thrown pain paint. Bacons bodily Throwness is disclosed and disseminated to us violently via his heated sewer swamp state of oozed mudded mind and neurotic nervous system (Bacon Befindlichkeit). But for Bacon Eggsistence means to be Thrown into Impossibility all the time out-of-time in time. For Bacon 'chance' and 'throwing' are present-at-hand 'games' which severe body-time-space all the time where Throwing Forward is also a Retrieving Back a la Freud's Fort Da game again and again. But what does Bacon Throw? Bacon Throws his nervous system via the hand through the materiality of paint. Bacon bled: "Painting is the pattern of one's nervous system being projected on the canvas." The Thrown Paint is the Sensation of the nervous system being Thrown on the Canvas.

But Throwing for Bacon opens up the possibility of impossibility as the thrown alien art of the thrown future frothed Throwness where we can Image our authentic Alien Being by being open to - and in tune with - the timing and spacing and becoming of our Alien Throwness beyond the ex-Human (which cannot grasp its Being or Throwness because it is in fact gone away somewhere no longer present at hand unavailable void extinct). But through Bacon's Throwing we can understand the 'it': the Thrown slurp stuff ontological ooze of an authentic Alien Being. For Bacon Throwing is trapping and then revealing Unhiddenness so throwing throws up the possibility of the impossibility to make the Image shine as New. But you both do not see the Unhiddenness of the New shining Image because it is so shimmeringly shiny that it blinds your blindness blinded so you will only ever see it once you are dead and now you are dead you can see the shining 'New Image' as it gives you 'blinding light' to see because when you were alive you never saw nothing New by being blinded. But be-re remember the thrown real radically 'New' is the uncanny underside of the radically 'Old' alien art and a long lost long forgotten froth forever still sleeping silent Thrown thrusting fresh froth fast forward flying ahead-of-behind the 'contemporary' of 'human' no-time like the present.

The thrown being alien of the alien as an atta abject abyss angoisse ecstatic eggsistence always already aims at a 'way of relating' to the wound womb world and always to take a stance stake steak so-in-out the thrown world without entering in it. An alien floats and floods outside the World never inside it out. Throwing for Bacon is being there standing in the real of the open: an eggo ecstatic thrown projection thrusting froth forward an alteric alien Aletheia aroma as eggo essence emptied out open oozed over towards tremor tingle throb throttle through rippling rhizome reel real regions.

Alien Being is an atta angoisse awful awe oozed object of an atta ab-ject thirst thrust Thrown outside orbit over our earth's eggbit. Nor now do does an Alien Being be sit set well within the then World wound wonder as a sealed Subject but as an alien other orbiting objecting floating forever forward froth actually ahead of our severed supine subject (being boringly hideously human). An authentic atta alien born being is in Thrown Out-into-the-World but being floating never making a landing because the Thrown abject Alien abyss does defy grounded gravity always already and flies forth frothing forever free. Alien Being Throws itself bled bare Beyond the thrown World and but beyond Itself in being-projected-in Throwness always already oozed outside itself in its inked initiation. Alien Eggsistence flies-floats outside over the World but abyss always well within ready reach on of Throwing 'itself' Beyond and Through 'it' to the other side of 'it' towards further thrown possibilities through the hole horizon of other real regions. But what does bored Baon really Throw forth froth? Bacon Throws the eggo Ecstasy of the alien awe aura aroma abyss off-of the then oozed out Abject Sublime as an exiled eggo expendicture empties out of our subjective substances senstioning spunked psyche soggy substances spilt spilling out of outside-in 'its' inked ining initiated surf stuff slimes as a jubilant jouissance joy juices jetting jets of oily oozed shimmering shuddering shining silver sliver slime spume spurting spunk luminously leaking light lightening inducing illuminating an Aten atta awe Aletheia Alien Being being born before late language leaked losing lost ontological ooze.

For Bacon: Forgetting Waiting Falling Throwing Gambling Opening Wondering Shuddering Pondering Thrusting Sensationing Wandering Fatiguing Spurting Wanking Drinking Suturing Projecting Ordering Eternal Returning Leaking Levels ooze open up under the thirsty atta alien attack adrenalin at an abject abyss activating volatile voluptuous vile violent 'Valves of Sensation' sown served through thrown terrorist terrain as an arbitrary abject action of oozed oils pressed pushed projected painting pertaining pulsation shimmering shining sensations. For Bacon 'knows' always already that he 'does not know how to do it': how to bring 'it' about, how to bring 'it' off. One can only do it - a non-illustrational portrait - by not knowing how to do it. To try to ooze operations, ordered charred chance, through thrown organised organic chaos chess. Bacon sow states hence he has to thrown 'the Will to lose his Will': Bacon Will to do anything at all arbitrary to thrust thrown by breaking being bare to too bleed the willed articulation of the image initiating slime surging Spilling: forging Forgetting, Waiting, Chancing, Throwing, Leaking leftovers initiate instinctive impact on the nailed nervous springboard system soil. Radical Forgetting of Fixed Form opens up the Flood Gates of Fluid Form froth foam ooze outside Inane Illustration and a Castrated Conscience. Bacon rightly stated that the moment 'one knows what one is doing' one is merely making another form of idiotic illustration. Becoming an alien art Arrives at a frothed Forgetting.

Forgetting for frothing Bacon becomes blind Becoming as an Alien atta attack Act as an adrenalin object opened oozed outside commonsense conscious conditioning - as Marc Cousins adds: "...precisely the capacity to act which depends upon a radical form of forgetting...an act of passion requires that you in some sense forget the object of passion...Really what it opens up is what you might call a kind of non-intellectualist conception of action...by an action which completely opposes the normal kind of Western way of looking at an action which often might be said to be the way in which the move from a conception to an execution the translation is made." (Mark Cousins, Radical Forgetting, Architectural Association).

Bacon knows always already he has no 'conception' of what (he really) 'wants to do' and he does not know 'how to do it': Bacon knows now always already that there simply silly cannot be a 'conceptual art': 'conception is conscious' and (authentic alien) 'art is subconscious'. 'Conception' is always already added after authentic alien awe aroma Art arrived: crass contemporary 'Conceptual Art' is a lazy and banal and human apology for alien Art; a forgetting and a negation of the thrown auratic authentic angoisse aroma alluring alien art awe object orbit offal: crass 'Conception' always already only operates at the ludicrous level of inane illustration and nauseating narrative: 'Conception' (is) 'Conscious': an (alien) 'Art' (is) 'Subconscious'.

A 'conceptual art' is indeed an absurd oxymoron operating as a puerile product of our media manipulating epoch end initiated in the tedious android age of onto-technology. So so-called 'conceptual art' is always already without concepts and art: it does not exist. Yet the thrown thrusted nailed 'New Image' as an alien creation cannot bare be 'Known' (now) only 'Thrown' now outside of 'contemporary time' (the 'no time' of the 'no present') all the time beyond the banality of our crass 'contemporary art' which is always already on time in time outside real time all the time outside Beingtime and Beingsensation because being 'contemporary' it is always already deaded done: Emin, Hirst, Lucas, Creed et al are always already dead-on-arrival dead-on-departure.

Bacon is always already dazed hazed mesmerized hypnotised tranquilized in his hot Throwness Fallingness Forgettingness Openess which is the eggo-essentialism of Alienness. Bacon thus throws Heidegger's Falling forward into in an Alienness wetness where an atta alienation is the 'truth' of 'authentic being': that is: being bled bare beyond one's ontic eggoself orbiting observing alien-ation around 'it' re-working and re-throwing and re-falling and re-thrusting there where what hour Heidegger throws there Dasein dust down here:

"When Dasein, tranquillized, and 'understanding' everything, thus compares itself with everything, it drifts along towards an alienation in which its own most potentiality-for-Being is hidden from it. Falling Being-in-the-world is not only tempting and tranquilizing; it is at the same time alienating."

By beginning Bacon Throws forth froth foam from the thrown abyss an anxiety thrill thrown up by his angoisse Alieness of not knowing how-to-do 'it'. Bacon's abattoir Alieness anxiety afterwards initiates ignition to Throw froth forward back bleak upon unleashed beam bled Bacon projecting possibility for finding an authentic alien being born as anxiety discloses Dasein: Hear Heidegger here:

"Anxiety throws Dasein back upon that which it is anxious about – its authentic potentiality for being in the world. Anxiety individualises Dasein for its ownmost Being-in-the-world, which as something that understands, projects itself essentially upon possibilities. Therefore, with that which it is anxious about, anxiety discloses Dasein as being-possible.”

Out of anxiety and boredom Bacon throws the abject abyss of oozed authentic alien beingtime: anxiety, accident, boredom and chance cannot be anticipated so the instinctive image is initiated in spite of Bacon being there or not. Answering Archibaud Bacon bled: : "When you're using oil paint, it can result in an effect that you cannot control...That's also when something unexpected suddenly appears; it comes with no warning...What's most surprising is that this something which has appeared. almost in spite of oneself, is sometimes better that what you were in the process of doing..."

By being bored Bacon breaks the 'willed articulation of the image' by 'doing anything' to get out of conscious conditioning and inane illustration. By drifting in the fog of a haze of sensations Bacon loses himself in nothingness. Bacon said to Sylvester: "And yet, what so-called chance gives you is quite different from what willed application of paint gives you. It has an inevitability very often which the willed putting-on of the paint doesn't give you....You see, you don't know how the hopelessness n one's working will make one just take paint and just do almost anything to get out of the formula of making a kind of illustrational image - I mean, I just wipe it all over with a rag or use a brush or rub it with something or anything or throw turpentine and paint and everything else onto the thing to try to break the willed articulation of the image, so that the image will grow, as it were, spontaneously and within its own structure and not my structure...And out of all that, possibly, a more organic image arises than if it was a willed image."

Heidegger hazed: "Profound boredom, drifting here and there in the abysses of our existence like a muffling fog, removes all things and human beings and oneself along with them into a remarkable in difference. This boredom manifests beings as a hole...In anxiety, we say, 'one feels uncanny.' What is 'it' that makes 'one' feel uncanny? We cannot say what it is before which one feels uncanny. As a whole it is so for the one. All things and we ourselves sink into indifference...The receding of beings as a whole, closing in on us in anxiety, oppresses us. We can get no hold on things. In the slipping away of beings only this 'no hold on things' comes over us and remains. Anxiety makes manifest the nothing..." (Martin Heidegger, Pathmarks, Cambridge University Press, 1998). For Bacon boredom and anxiety, as momentary radical forgetting of being there, open up the possibility of some 'thing' taking one over and throwing one elseeother elsewhere. For Bacon anxiety causes throwness which in turn thrownness causes anxiety. Anxiety has no object but throws open a negative space which throws up a positive object or eggject. Anxiety and Boredom and the Nothing breed ab-images in Bacon. Bacon ab-paints in a fog of forgetfulness with the will to lose his will in a haze of heated ssmazed spunked sensations and said to Sylvester: "When I was trying in despair the other day to paint that head of a specific person, I used a very big brush and a great deal of paint and I put it on very, very freely, and I simply didn't know in the end what I was doing, and suddenly this thing clicked, and became exactly like this image I was trying to record. But not out of any conscious will, nor was it anything to do with illustrational painting. What has never yet been analyzed is why this particular way of painting is more poignant than illustration. I suppose because it has a life completely of its own. It lives on its own, like the image one's trying to trap; it lives on its own, and therefore transfers the essence of the image more poignantly." (Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester Thames & Hudson, 1987). Bacon's bled image 'it' lives out on 'its' own as anxiety and accident and alieness dripping does do. Bacon breaks anxiety and alieness out of pushed paint nailing newness. An alienist anxiety accentuates and activates nailing nerves to the sensationed spectator's shattered shuddered supine spine sending shock shivers. To Throw is to send shockwaves of oozed shot sensation to the severed servile spine sending it stiff and as stiff as a hard-on ready to shoot spunk. Bacon's bored alienist exhilarated anxiety navigates nails new imagery initiated from froth forth subconscious stuff spat split spilt all over you both becoming attuned anew:

"The inability to tell you, the inability to announce, the topic of the urge which is the new: if I could say the 'new is' and go on and explain it and describe it then I would be doing very well. I can't say it because as I stand here wanting to think about the new it becomes as always a struggle, a kind of fight as to whether in the first instance whether I will fall back stupidly in just repeating in what has been said about the new which won't be new or will say something else which will not be recognisable as about the new at all. You can see then that the first point we have to deal with is that the new is a point of discrimination between what we already know and therefore can't be new and that which we don't know and therefore can't nominate as the new. The space between the two I propose to call the space of anxiety. That is to say whom so ever comes a problem of the new, whom so ever wishes to do something new is immediately confronted not with the problem of the new - as if we could draw up some amiably obvious way an inventory of all that had been done and then make one additional proposal - 'this has never been done before' - and escape into the new. If I could tell you I would let you know. The question here is: why can't I - at either a historical or psychical level - even let you know what the new is because, as it were, we can't know what it is. What we can know is there where we approach the zone of anxiety...Anxiety is that where, as it were, the subject strives towards an object that is not there. Not there and yet I claim at the last moment it will be there...There in which finally the heroism of Samuel Beckett was found in the condensation of his work which says: 'I can't go on - I'm going on.' I can't go on - I'm going on. Why, why wouldn't one end the state of anxiety just by saying: 'that's it - it's too much and is not enough?'...In response to this condition of anxiety in which the subject wages, hopes, there will be something there where the trajectory of the desire is aimed - there where I would die if only I could see an object appear - if only I could see a new object appear - and the waiting in that period is what? The waiting of anxiety...Very soon the subject will grasp at any fleeting shadow, any vague outline of an object...You know by looking at an empty page - you know by the mistake that you make by drawing too early - you know by leaving it too late: one is always in one's anxiety too early or too late. How does one account like for the timing: the timing of the subject there that the object might arise?...Either there's a gap in reality or there's a gap in thought. There where you see the question of gap you will find, as i suggest, the question of anxiety - there, in a productive way, where people are able to use anxiety, you see the question of the new."

(Mark Cousins, Anxiety and the New, public lecture; The Architectural Association, London, 31 October, 1997).

As an abject angst alien again bored Bacon is not a painter of 'humanist angst' but Bacon is a painter of 'alienist angst'. Yet alien being - what is alien being? It 'is' not it self. Alien is the farthest from being (human). As being-thrown-anxiety bored Bacon's alienist alien death dictum is (being a born again alien): "I throw therefore I am (not)." The alien being is raw rather 'thrown' by (not) being 'itself' out-to the truth of alien being so that egg-sisting in this eggs-it cracks open out and leaks light the truth of its bled being spilling all over the place and seeping through and through throw and throw. An alien Angst arises wet when Da-sein throws the activated annihilation off of its inky ex-existence as an egg-sistence as an egg-sist. Bacon's alienist anticipatory reptilian resoluteness of throwing froth forth forward is alien being ahead-of-itself as being-out-of-itself. Alienist Anticipation throws to the 'not yet thrown' while 'thrownness' refers readily to the 'already projected' pus. An angst Alienist Throwing as being-toward-death dungness is in an attunement throwness to being-out-the-world. Do not now also forget that thrown fear throws initiated image oozed outside itself in and also beautifully breeds alien anxiety for Bacon who is afraid that the image may never arrive yet never at all afraid to throw froth forward freezing fear:

"Through fright we leave ourselves and, thrown outside, we experience in the guise of the frightening what is entirely outside us and other than us: the outside itself." (Maurice Blanchot, L' entretien infini, Paris 1969).

An Authentic aroma awesome alluring Alien Art abyss arrived on off thrown through the ab-scene abyss before being the thrown crude crap conscious 'conception' of our (inauthentic) 'Conceptual Art' was wettly 'conceived' and Authentic Alien Art remained remembered long leaked after android 'conception' had long stopped conceiving and deceiving for there never was a 'conceptual art' because authentic alien art always already ends where 'conception' begins and begins where 'conception' ends: an authentic alien atta art fights against the politics and ideology of commonsense 'conception': a radical authentic atta alien art has no 'concepts' and has no need for human 'concepts'. The end of the 'concept' calls in the end of 'man'. Thus 'conceptual art' is (and was always already) dead because 'man' has-was always already ended and deaded before begunded began. Alien atta aletheia art arrived always already before begun born con 'conceptual' art. Authentic aroma alien art is the thrown rawed radical forgetting of the 'human' and 'human conception' and the hideous humanism of 'conceptual art' which had no real 'conception' of 'art' at all. Heidegger latched onto an ancient alien image of 'truth' revealed in the Greek word 'aletheia'. Aletheia aura awe alluring instinct images an alien atta "un-coverdness" or "un-concealment" or as "un-aliening" as you both should well know by now or not you will no doubt be in the know and in the throw.

The Thrown Truth of oozed Alien Art aroma activates an alteric Aletheia revealing retrieving the thrown eggo essence of our being all alien again. For both Heidegger and Bacon Aletheia or Truth are not concepts but events: always remember for Heidegger and Bacon concepts do not and cannot exist. Like Richard Wagner, Heidegger and Bacon are not at all concerned with the closure of contained conscious concepts but in inventing initiating images of oozed sound-sensations word-sensations paint-sensations oozed outside the banality of logic-meaning-empirical 'commonsense' consciousness and which always already arrive at the body before the trite tired 'conscious concept' comes but which never arrives or attacks the body the nerves. Hear Klaus Tennstedt's Berlin Philharmonic account of Wagner's Entrance Of The God At Valhalla from Rhinegold: the hammer blow to the anvil followed by the shattering spillage of the timpani roll followed by the sparkling dripping harps followed by the build up to the climax with full orchestra shining brass and nailing timpani is eggsactly analogous in nailing the nervous system to Bacon's throwness and leakage and manipulation of pure paint sensation as becoming bled an alien art. Or just sensation the repeated pounding four bass-drum dry thuds in Josef Suk's austere 'Asrael' Symphony for Big Orchestra, Op. 27 conducted by Vaclav Neumann with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra oozing Primordial Being being punctuated as an angoisse apparition dread Dasein drum nailing the Nothing. Music is the Essence of Metaphysical Mooding because Music is always already about nothing at all and about The Nothing. Music Metasensations Metabeing. All Art subconsciously aspires towards the Sensation of Music as Music is Metaphysical as Music is Architectural as Music is Visual as Music is Sculptural: the Form is Fluid the Sensation even more so. Music - as thrown out-of-ordinary time - is extra-time - is extra-visual - is extra-sensational - as a timing-in-the dark - as a seeing in the dark - as a sensationing in the dark: Music is the Metaphysics of the Darkening of the Lightening of the Lightening of the Darkening: Music gives Light to the Dark - Music gives Dark to the Light and with this mataphysical mutual marriage the Light and the Dark diappear. Music as a metaphysical mood melting rape rapture rupture severs the subject from subjectivity bled beyond being there thrown out-of-joint out-of-sync out-of-time:

"If the composer withholds more than we anticipate, we experience a delicious falling sensation; we feel we have been torn from a stable point on the musical ladder and thrust into the void. . . . When the composer withholds less, the opposite occurs: he forces us to perform gymnastic exercises more skilful than our own." (Claude LÈvi-Strauss, The Raw and the Cooked, Overture, 1964).

Music - before being an 'intellectual insight' is always already a 'sensationual outsight' : so-called 'intellectual' composers such as: Schönberg, Berg, Webern, Xenakis, Maderna, Boulez compose 'conscious compositions' always already as a 'subconscious serialisationing' of 'bodily sensations'.

Authentic angoisse atta angst aletheia alien art castrates crass 'concepts' and cannot be 'Conceptual' or 'Contemporary' because 'it' cannot 'be-in-time' initially 'it' however happened before-being-born being bled out-of-time all the time. Authentic angoisse atta angst aletheia alien art operates out over our contemporary conceptions of the thrown no-now known as now. Authentic angoisse atta angst aletheia alien art arrives after the time told today.

The perverse paradox about the fuck-fantasy of a 'Contemporary Art' is that it is always already out-of-date - it is always so dated and deaded in that it is forced frozen wedged wearily into the impossibility of the now: that is: the myth of the (inauthentic) 'now' which is saturated in the 'contemporary lie' of 'political correctness' ('liberal fascism') which 'authenticates' and 'legitimates' the deeply reactionary media-manipulated institutions such as the ICA (Beck's Futures), Tate Modern (Turner Prize): both of which really negate the truly radically new of the primordial Otherness of an authentic angoisse alien atta art by being totally enslaved to the 'politically correct' lies and myths of their no-time desperately desiring to appear to be 'up-to-date'. The moronic media manipulated manoeuvers of Beck's Futures and the Turner Prize are sold as being: 'up-to-date' - 'with-it' - and - 'in' - which inevitably reduces 'art' to the mutant moron spastic state of 'dumbing-down' where 'art' sinks to the low-level of reactionary retardorama spastoidic spiv Saatchi's 'bad taste' - the evil of banality - where retards rule - spastics sell. As Artaud assigns: "We are born, we live, we die in an environment of lies." (Antonin Artuad, 1923).

Authentic angoisse atta abyss abject angst Aletheia alien art as 'humanless' has however necessarily: 'nothing to say' - politically, culturally or otherwise - as it has no concepts or tongue to tell and as Bacon said to Sylvester: "I'm not saying anything" - and an authentic angoisse atta alien art is radically new, too new, to be (known) 'now': is not 'in' the 'now' and 'it' is not 'in time' all the time (being frothed foamed formed founded fought oozed outside thrown thought). As absurd 'inauthentic' constructs, 'contemporary art' and 'conceptual art' are always already added after authentic angoisse atta Aletheia alien art appeared and additionally added after: 'too late' thus never ever arriving 'in' an 'authentic time' but only 'on' an 'inauthentic time' all the time (because they do not want to 'wait awhile'); whereas an alien atta art - as radically new - is initiated instead before 'being-conception' and also before 'being-contemporary' which-well are always already added after all the time all the time. Bacon barked to Giacobetti just before he hit the deep dirt slime sleep: "This is the artist’s privilege—When I paint I am ageless, I just have the pleasure or the difficulty of painting." (Francis Bacon, Exclusive interview with Francis Giacobetti, 1991-2, The Art Newspaper, June 2003). Bacon and Turner were wherever whenever always already ageless primordial painters past painting the thrown angoisse ageless areas activating art oozed outside thrown time in instinctive intensity nailed no-time both being cut-off out from frame frozen 'contemporary' cunt-culture where the no 'now' cannot 'tell the time' of an authentic alien art or as Bacon said to Sylvester: "Because time is the only great critic."

So-called 'abstract art' and 'conceptual art' and 'contemporary art' are always already too 'out-of-date' because they are too 'conscious' of being 'in (on) time' of the 'no' of the 'now' thus 'contemporary' in 'the they-time' in the 'no-now' - (being trapped in 'the they' of the 'no-time-like the present' - because there is no 'present' time-at-hand) - being too tied to tired 'they-thought': (en) framed, finalised, frozen forever forgetting a memory of the past being by-products of the falling 'they-now' thus negating being primordially radically new. So see 'Contemorary Art' does not exist because there is 'no' time 'like' the 'present' which as you already know by now was always already absent and never arrived in on out time. Bacon and Picasso's raw radical new is situated and saturated in the swamp of the primordial 'primitive' past. Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, Duchamp, Picasso, Jawlensky, Bacon, Whiteread, Alien - to 'name' a few - 'are-were' never 'contemporary' artists in-and-of-out 'their own time' (all the time) as they were 'out-of-time' all the time and came too early and came too late to be in the no of the now and because they were (and are) always already before and after 'their time' all the time: their raw 'radically new' primordial alien art wet works were (and are) far too 'new' (and 'old') for the (no) 'now' (which is necessarily blind to the truly 'radically new' Other): their thrown ancient alien art works were primordially (too) 'new' ever to be 'contemporary art' because they were not 'of their time' but 'of all time' (and also of 'no time') all the time. Shit shat Saatchi's senile spin anal-advertising 'non-art' epitomises emptiness of the 'no-time' of the no 'now' which constitutes the crass 'contemporary' that cannot exist 'in' time or anytime because it is always already out-of-time all the time and out-of-date deaded thrown to dead death. The is 'no' time 'now'. An authentic Alien art waits awhile resting for time to take time to be so can never be 'up-to-date' ('contemporary').

Authentic angoisse atta Aletheia Alien awe art - as a thrown 'truth' of oozed bled 'being-time' - pertains to the primordial pre-dating of ordered out of 'the conceptual' and 'the contemporary' being born before ended ego-event yesterday yet being born 'new': resurrected raw authentic angoisse atta alien art is in-fact pre-historic, pre-conceptual, pre-contemporary (pre-narrative, pre-human, pre-conscious thrown-time-sensation-stuff). The ontosenseological essence of the alien art ooze-object is in the thrown exogenous eggo. While being primordial in its non-conception, authentic alien art is initially a 'new object' but with the trace of the uncanny thing that was always already there but remained dormant: the newly hatched authentic alien art object oozes the past into the present but not 'now' nailing an angoisse perturbed presence. The sensation (and shock) of the new is that it was always already of old and thrown there waiting awhile in the wings to fly forth its ink froth slowly seeping sensation pricking past pasts for further futures. The primordial is instead always already after the 'post-modern' had never happened returning to haunt us long after it had been thrown away it cam back again and again.

Cézanne and Bacon and never gave 'thought' to 'painting' but sensationed in a smaze a fog a froth a foam a haze-heat of shimmering sensations. As Merleau-Ponty senses in Cézanne's Doubt: "Cézanne's painting suspends the habits of thought and reveals the base of inhuman nature upon which man has installed himself." (Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Cézanne's Doubt, Sense and Non-Sense, Northwestern University Press, 1964). Non-illustrational painting suspends thinking, negates thinking, by throwing sensation. Authentic alien art is always already outside: thinking conception illustration and narrative. Cézanne and Bacon were Sensationists not Imperssionists or Expressionists. For both Bacon and Cézanne Sensation is deeply ordered but only available through chance, amnesia, anxiety and forgetting through the cloud mists and smaze of subconscious sensationing as a science of sensation as a constellation of collected selected sensations: the smells and sounds of sights as the sites of sounds and smells as an audible abvision severing sight. You cannot see Cézanne and Bacon's abimages with the empirical easy eye as they operate olis at the oozed out extra empirical exeye level let leakage see sore sense. Cézanne and Bacon do not have the emptied 'evil eye' of everyday man but the abject 'alien eye' of the extraterrestrial 'reptilian gaze' as an abvision. Cézanne and Bacon do not use tangible colour to sensation and suggest tactile sensations and Cézanne and Bacon do not use natural colour to sensation and suggest fresh flesh skin surface sensations: Cézanne and Bacon abuse artificial artful articulations activating alienual actuality as an assorted assault.

Cézanne was the diamond cutter of Dasein forging fragmented faceted faces as the truth of alien being blown apart as the truth of painting being out of it. Cézanne's prism portraits are activated skin sensation severed by butterfly wing windows: splintering scales shimmering sheen: Cézanne's portraits pertain to thrown illuminating iridescent bent butterfly wing scales - and like Cézanne's scale-shades of contrasting colour composing the fractured face - the size of these structures causes interference effects when light is reflected from them. Cézanne transmutes the 'human face' into the 'reptilian face' through leaked light that shatters and splinters the surface fucking the face and using shimmering shades of green and blue - particularly painting his willing wife with little lizard emerald eyes and around chiselled cheeks chameleon shape shifting sheen surface sensations. Adorno sated: "The splinter in your eye is the best magnifying-glass." (Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia, 1951). Cézanne's severe sight salvages splintered spilt split savage sensations seizing severing surf slither springer sprinkle spurn sperm swash swarf slivering silver spongy spum splosh shrill shivering shimmering shinning serene frothing foaming flickering fluttering fragmented fractured flawed faceted forms found in his images of murmuring Mount Saint Victoire and partition prism portraits.

Cézanne's flawed faceted faces have the appearance of lizard skin scales as faceted and flawed emeralds and sapphires and diamonds catching and fracturing and throwing the light. Cézanne's partialised portraits are actually refracted faceted emeralds and sapphires and diamonds with prismatic colour and the scaly skin of loitering lizards; (where as Rembrandt's portraits are smoky quartz). Cézanne's flawed fractured faceted partitioned portraits are actuating the fragment: Cézanne is the painter of the fragment: scales splintered, shattered, split, spilt oozing over the thrown eggo-edge even bled bare. The refracted faceted sparkling shattering intensity of sensations for Cézanne (as for Bacon) is a painful experience where the thrown hot haze of oozed spilt split shattered shuttered sensations cracking causes an angoisse dull doped dizzyness and amnesia (a radical forgetting) and the pain of being as a register for the being of pain as being thrown out of the world: Cézanne said: "I am becoming more lucid before nature, but always with me the realization of my sensations is always painful. I cannot attain the intensity that is unfolded before my senses..."

Cézanne and Bacon did not bring thinking to the process of painting but brought throwness to the pain of painting through sensationing. One does not think when one paints: One cannot paint thinking as painting precedes conception: one paints sensationing: One paints sensation: One paints the senstics of the optics of the psychics of the subjects. For Cézanne and Bacon painting as a sensationing is a pulsating of presencing as a metaphysical mooding where thinking is thrown out thrown off thrown over. Painting comes into Being at the End of Thinking as a Becoming of Sensationing: "What I am trying to convey to you is more mysterious; it is entwined in the very roots of being, in the impalpable source of sensations." (Joachim Gasquet, Cézanne).

Bacon's paint(ing) is not 'thought through' but 'fought through', 'thrown through', 'leaked through', 'spunked through', 'shiited through'. Bacon does not know 'how the paint will behave' and Bacon does not 'have a technique'. Bacon's thrown-paint as being-towards-paint is always already in 'solitary confinement' and 'doing time' all the time. Bacon's pain-paint is carrying out a 'death sentence' and 'doing life' inside where the imprisoned pain paint becomes a leaking leftover 'death sentence': a life-for-a-life. But Bacon's solitary shot pus-paint is nonidentically nomadic and wonderfully wandering on the inside-out - as an eggo ejaculating joy jouissance jaw jewel jew juice - it is inside-out or being bled - spent shot eggo ejaculation everywhere elsewhere engulfed outside Other frozen free space sensation still sitting 'inside' and 'doing time' there throwing pure-presence pushed-paint operating oily ooze openings navigating nomadic spaces spilling splitting shadows prowling prison presence projecting paint beyond boundaries draining doors emptying eggo entrails exiting exile exodus exteriority arriving anyway always already at an angoisse alien alterity an-archy. Bacon's porous pored paint leaves loin leaks up under the door of the prison house of paint into the next non-room not knowing where it will end up: the pain-paint sensation spills slithering at another non-space in a non-place out-of-time all the time making malleable marks mysteriously: Bacon never knows 'what the paint will do'.

Bacon to Sylvester on ooze-paint and his anti-method making: "I really like highly disciplined painting although I don't use highly disciplined methods of constructing it...But paint is so malleable you never really know. It's such an extraordinary supple medium that you never know what the paint will do...What so-called chance gives you is quite different from what willed application of paint gives you. It has an inevitability very often which the willed putting-on of the paint doesn't give you." (The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson).

Martin Heidegger's a-conception of a non-conscious alien art is similar to that of the Surrealists. In The Origin of the Work of Art, Heidegger writes

The thrown unified unique orbit of an angoisse arid-acidic alien art, which arises from the subconscious sea swamp ooze of its ink primordial puss slurp self, is initiated by Heidegger with the term of the event. Chance 'events' in Bacon's Throwness of pushed-paint disrupt the nailed-narrative of being and time where suture is split spat out open and oils ooze frothing from the thrown eggo of the leaking lamella throwing us back-forward into that sticky-stuff of the quick-sands of the primordial swamp pre-being an pre-time. An authentic alien art displaces, disrupts, negates, navigates the viewers from their 'commonsense' perspectives in the way Heidegger describes:

Bacon and Blanchot displace paint and dissolve language by lifting it, leaking it, spilling it, splitting it, severing it, sensationing it, frothing it, fragmenting it, always already away from the noise of narrative to the nailed nervous system where force negates form where form becomes froth foam with out 'illustration' without 'sentences' negating narrative. Blanchot terms the fragmentary as: "Language's rupture with itself." For Bacon the fragmentary (as a) portrait is: 'paint's rupture with itself' where the pushed-paint face fuses fractured fragmented flawed facets until unifying the thrown (w)hole hollowing out the thrown soggy sodded subject bled bare becoming an alien oozed object wetted which fits over and floods out the sedated subject where the 'beautiful human subject' becomes the 'ugly alien object. Bacon paints portraits actually as freeze-framed frothed fragmentary flawed facets. Cezanne was the first painter of the thrown flawed faceted fragment. In Bacon's primordial portraits, hollowed heads, the abject-sublime is the angoisse antagonistic push-pull-paint between the dying 'human subject' and the borning 'alien object': the thrown oozed object leaks lager than the sinking subject wet with slime stuff ejaculating, erupting, engulfing eggo-oily over empty-ego throttling the thrown foreign filtered flayed fuck face forever fresh froth spilling silk sliver silver sperm sensation ooze over outer orbit. Bacon's shot split-spilt spat pus-puke portraits are a Deleuzeian Rhizome: "A rhizome is composed not of units but of dimensions, or rather directions in motion. It has neither beginning or end, but always a middle (milieu) from which it grows and which it overspills. It constitutes linear linear multiplicities with n directions having neither subject nor object, which can be laid out on a plane of consistency, and from which the One is always subtracted (n-1). When a multiplicity of this kind changes dimension, it necessarily changes its nature as well, undergoes a metamorphosis." (Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, Mille plateaux: Capitalisme et schizophréne, Paris 1980). Bacon's frothed fractured fragmented heinous hideous heads neither begin nor end but erupt ejaculating froth foam from the centre spilling out towards you always already mutating 'man' meat metamorphoses arriving at an angoisse archaic alteric alien again. Also Artaud and Alien anarchic alterity altering aluminium altitude amassing atta Apollyon aorta aperture opening oroide oozed orphic osis oils oust flow flood flank forward forte frottage frowzy fructify fruition fractious fractured fracas fragmentation bled by Blanchot: "...fragmentation is the pulling to pieces (the tearing) of that which never had pre-existed (really or ideally) as a whole, nor can it ever be reassembled in any future presence whatsoever..." (Maurice Blanchot, L'écriture du désastre. Paris Gallimard, 1980). And as bled by Bacon: "I've always thought of friendship as where two people really tear one another apart and perhaps in that way learn something from one another...I've always hope to find another painter I could really talk to - who really tore my things to bits and whose judgement I could actually believe in..." (Francis Bacon, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987). Hear Heraclitus here: "Men do not understand how a thing which is torn in different directions comes into accord with itself - harmony in contrarity, as in the case of the bow or the lyre."

And Adorno: "Artworks are a priori negative by the law of their objectivation: They kill what they objectify by tearing it away from the immediacy of its life. Their own life preys on death. This defines the qualitative threshold to modern art...Only by the strength of its deadliness do art works participate in reconciliation. But in this they at the same time remain obedient to myth. This is what id Egyptian in each. By wanting to give permanence to the transitory - to life - by wanting to save it from death, the works kills it." (Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, 1997). But by brutally tearing the torso to tatters pulling-it-to-pieces-to-pulp-to-pap through thrown paint-pus Bacon freely fractures filtered fragments throwing through there the terete fucked-face hollowing husk hydraulic hyena howling hybrid hydra hysteria hypostasis where wonderful wounding as a kind killing opens out of oozed being becoming suffuse saturated seeping smelly soggy soft sludge slurp stuff soaking spunk sown sensation shining shimmering showering shielding showing.

Blanchot's burp slurp 'stuff' about ab-speech sludge as a force froth eggo echoes Bacon's pearl pus paint as a force froth foam: "When I speak I always exercise a relation of force. I belong, whether or not I know it, to a network of powers of which I make use, struggling against the force that asserts itself against me. All speech is violence." (Maurice Blanchot, Comment découvir l'obscur, 1959). Not all 'paint is violent': pure pus pussy-prick paint jewel jew-jaw juice ooze oil only becomes brute vile 'violence' when it is initiated (oozed) outside illustration: 'illustrational paint' (Leonardo di Vinci, Caravaggio, Ingres, David, Balthus, Freud, Saville, Kitaj, Hockney, etc.) has no 'violence' (no 'brutality of fact') because it has no: 'lamella leakages' (no: 'cracks' no 'flaws' no 'tain of the mirror', no ' stain of the skin'): it has no spunk shooting spillage drip-drooling down, it has no silver saliva slurp spurting stuff: it has no shimmering, it has no shining., it has no sensation. Levinas on language echoes Bacon on paint when one substitutes 'language' for 'paint': "Language is perhaps to be defined as the very power to break the continuity of being, of history." (Emmanuel Levinas, Totality & Infinity, 1961). Pushed-pulled Paint (an pastel) - (outside inane illustration and anal abstraction) - has the power to break the continuity of being: Bacon's paint, Degas' pastels, break the continuity of being: break the continuity of the back, the spine, spilling out over breaking being open out over to the world wound womb shattering shell leaving leakage leftover. For Bacon and Bakhtin paint and language are nothing in themselves but become 'activated' only in lived Throwness as an 'expressive intonation' which is the 'marker' of the 'utterance' of paint and word: it is how the paint and word are Thrown through intonation that counts as Bakhtin bleeds bare: "Expressive intonation is a constitutive marker of the utterance. It does not exist in the system of language as such, i.e., outside the utterance....If an individual word is pronounced with expressive intonation it is no longer a word, but a complete utterance expressed by one word...Thus the expressiveness of individual words is not inherent in the words themselves as units of language, nor does it issue directly from the meaning of the words themselves..." (Mikhail Bakhtin, The Problem of Speech Genres.)

For Blanchot, Bataille, Bakhtin, Beckett, Burroughs language leaks leftovers in its inked impossibility: 'radically thrown words', like 'radically thrown paint' for Bacon, filter form froth foam from an angoisse alien Other objectivity oozing out over stripping splitting sinking subjectivity. For both Bacon and Blanchot the loss of subjectivity throws forth an alien objectivity where pushed paint and wounded words throw forth a face-to-face eggo-encounter of the thrown 'alien object' pushing prodding proximity towards touching time-being before. The possible 'impossibility' of paint (and the 'impossibility' of poetry and philosophy) resides in its radically thrown 'possibility' of oozing out our object-outer-Other outside illustration and narrative. Heidegger haunts: "...the caller maintains itself in conspicuous indefiniteness. If the caller is asked about its name, status, origin, or repute, it not only refuses to answer, but does not even leave the slightest possibility of one's making it into something with which one can be familiar when one's understanding of Dasein has a 'worldly' orientation." (Being & Time, Martin Heidegger). For Bacon and Blanchot paint and language has an autonomous sensation structure and 'a life of its own' and as Bacon said to Sylvester: "...so that the image will grow, as it were, spontaneously and within its own structure of its own outside our structure, and not my structure." Blanchot: "The surrealists became well aware - they made use of it admirably - of the bizarre character of words: they saw that words have their own spontaneity...The surrealists understand, moreover language is not an inert thing; it has a life of its own, and a latent power that escapes us." (Maurice Blanchot, La part du feu, Paris, 1949). Bacon reiterates this to Sylvester about non-illustrational paint having 'a life of its own': "What has never yet been analyzed is why this particular way of painting is more poignant than illustration. I suppose because it has a life completely of its own. It lives on its own, like the image one's trying to trap; it lives on its own, and therefore transfers the essence of the image more poignantly. So that the artist may be able to open up or rather, should I say, unlock the valves of feeling and therefore return the onlooker to life more violently." (Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact, Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, 1987, Thames & Hudson).

For frothing Bacon, Bakhtin, Bataille, Blanchot, Beckett, Burroughs voluptuous virile visceral vile vinegar vivacious violence is indeed thrown the cut cracked condition of oozed eggsistence existence and as volcanically vomits forth froth from Velázquez, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Picasso, Nolde, Soutine, Jawlensky and Bacon's porous portraits painfully portraying psychic slime sludge sea stuff sensation still soaking smoking skin soul soil.

In crispy 'cured' burnt Bacon (and acidic Alien's) putrefying pus portraits the thrown caller comes confronted cracking open oily oozed object-Other of no ('known') name to be 'identified' yet paradoxically always already subconsciously sensationally remembered rawly frothing forth from primordial pushed pressed past. The thrown pus pruned portraits of our Bacon and our Alien are an anarchic Outside opaque Other initiating intense interstice interval between broken bled being and a no non-being there then thrown off out-of-the-world whirlpool wandering whenever wherever. As abject arsehole alien Bill Burroughs burrows out over orbit onyx oils: "Brion Gysin living next door....He has undergone similar conversion to mine and doing great painting...I see in his painting the psychic landscape of my own work. He is doing in painting what I try to do in writing. He regards his painting as a hole in the texture of the so-called 'reality,' through which he is exploring an actual place existing in outer space. That is, he moves into the painting and through it, his life and sanity at stake when he paints. Needless to say no dealer will touch his work. It is unlike anything I ever saw. When you see it, your thought process stops dead and satori opens up in front of you. What Bacon hopes to do, Gysin has done repeatedly." (William S. Burroughs letter to Allen Ginsberg, October 10th, 1958).

Bacon's bled bare putrid paintings become blown oozed open leaked like - to paraphrase Burroughs - 'a hole in the texture of so-called reality...exploring an actual place existing in outer space.' With Bacon's outer-orbit-orifices of no-places, no-spaces, no-times, we are treading on alien territory. Both Bacon and Burroughs cut up the text of the body, cut up the body of the text, by bending the book or bending the brush breaking the spine of the body breaking the spine of the book splitting the line, spilling the line by folding the flesh, folding the page back in over out itself. Cut-up and Flip-folding is initiated inserting eggo-escape open oozed-spunked space-being-time. Burroughs bleeds bodies bores boys negating narrative: "Pages of text are cut and rearranged to form new combinations of word and image-In writing my last two novels, Nova Express and The Ticket That Exploded, I have used an extension of the cut up method I call 'the fold in method'-A page of text-my own or some one elses-is folded down the middle and placed on another page- The composite text is then read across half one text and half the other-The fold in method extends to writing the flash back used in films, enabling the writer to move backwards and forwards on his time track-For example I take page one and fold it into page one hundred-I insert the resulting composite as page ten-When the reader reads page ten he is flashing forwards in time to page one hundred and back in time to page one-The deja vu phenomena can so be produced to order..."

Bacon produced similar sensations to 'disorder' and 'cut up' the body - as Picasso did - folding the page of the flesh in over on itself out pulling the cunt through the mouth, the cock through the ear, the eye through the arse. Bataille, Blanchot, Burroughs, Bacon (from forth frothed) Picasso really radically reinvented visiting vivacious voluptuous volatile violent raw realism by brutally breaking body rearranging rough real reality accidentally acidically attacking appearance always already again and again and again all the time all the time all the time not in time. Powerful Picasso's vivacious voluptuous violence let leak of our oozed bodies becoming beautifully blown abjectly apart and nailing nerves frothing foam form forever freeze frozen tearing time to tantalizing tantara tattered tapioca sluice slurry slush slurp smaze smear squelching slivering slithering simmering shimmering shining shattered shuttered shuddering shrewd shrapnel shreds spilling splosh splice spice strewn sowing sonorous sensuous sonar somnambulist sensationism spinner sorcerer sooth.

Or Bacon on Picasso: "Picasso is the reason why I paint. He is the father figure, who gave me the wish to paint. In 1929 I saw some completely revolutionary pieces, 'Le baiser' and 'Les baigneuses'. The figures are organic. They were my inspiration in 'The Crucifixion'. Picasso was the first person to produce figurative paintings which overturned the rules of appearance; he suggested appearance without using the usual codes, without respecting the representational truth of form, but using a breath of irrationality instead, to make representation stronger and more direct; so that form could pass directly from the eye to the stomach without going through the brain. Picasso opened the door to all these systems." (Francis Bacon interview with Francis Giacobetti, 1991-2, The Art Newspaper, June 2003).

"In a certain sense the Picassos that I like are violent, but not in their subject matter; they are violent in the colours and forms that they use, and its because these pictures are so remarkably well executed that one could say that they are violent in a certain sense. They are violent because of the incredible emotional charge which they produce, and this is an impressive sort of violence...Certain works of Picasso have not only unlocked images for me, but also ways of thinking, and even ways of behaving. It doesn't happen often, but I have experienced it. They released something in me, and made way for something else. Let's say it wasn't a fruitless violence...violence which opens the door to something else..." (Francis Bacon, In Conversation with Michael Archimbaud, Phaidon Press, (1993).

"When I talked about the brutality of fact in Picasso, I mean that Picasso in a curious way was able to put it across more directly and with less expressionism in it. It seemed to be the fact itself with out the will to express." (Francis Bacon, 1984, Looking back at Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 2000).

"The sexual act is an extremely difficult subject to do, oddly enough. I don't think the Picasso one's work, because they always look like toys that you could pull along the floor. I never saw one Picasso's that ever looked erotic." (Francis Bacon, 1973, Looking back at Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 2000).

Bacon (and Turner) have actually always already navigated nailed nauseating nature-penetrated, punctured, prodded, pricked, pruned, punched, processed: open-out on outer-orbit-otherside. Even-ever in the 'no-time' of the 'no-now' - (that is, the fantasy of the 'present', the myth of the 'contemporary') - both Bacon and Turner are (still) 'ahead-of-their-time' (all the time). Even (in the 'no') now Turner would never win The Turner Prize because he was never 'contemporary': even now Turner is always already ahead of The Tuner Prize; Turner is ahead of our own ('no') time): Turner is still too new, too radical, too fresh, to be entered into The Turner Prize and Turner would always already fail to win The Turner Prize because Turner always already comes after the inception of The Turner Prize - running back ahead of the collapsed con 'contemporary' which was always already never 'now'.

In intensely painting portraits, Bacon bravely practices an angoisse 'injury' in initiating 'immediacy' which wetty pushed paint portrays putridly. Or as Levinas leaks: "True self-expression stresses the nakedness and defencelessness that encourages and directs the violence of the first crime: the goal of a murderous uprightness is especially well-suited to exposing or expressing the face. The first murderer probably does not realize the result of the blow he is about to deliver, but his violent design helps him to find the line with which death may give an air of unimpeachable rectitude to the face of the neighbour; the line is traced like the trajectory of the blow that is dealt and the arrow that kills." (Emmanuel Levinas, Ethics as First Philosophy,).

For Heidegger, as for Bacon, oil paint is a pure present-to-hand entity through its projected thrusted Throwness it initiates imaging an authentic primordial prehistoric prehysteric blown bleeding Being breeding Becoming inked initially in (all) its runny rawness (and) vicious viscuous vivacity glistening glowing snailing slimeyness: seizing and sizing up the situation the thrown pushed primordial paint becomes bleded, manipulated, manhandled, moved, mixed projecting primordial Being bled bare by pushing paint oily oozing 'ontical possibilities' as Heidegger may muse. Only an alien oily non-narrative, non-illustrational, primordial puss pearl paint (Titian, Velázquez, Rembrandt, Turner, Monet, Bacon, Alien) can save us and activate an angoisse authentic atta alien art being bred before both of you coming towards you both before you both can escape. An authentic alien art all the time is never on time but out of time all the time not in time all the time being both too early and tool late to get to you on time all the time to be seen 'now' only later on or earlier on but not 'now' as there is no 'now' as you both 'now' know. The 'time-being' of an authentic alien art work does not have the appearance of 'being now' because it has taken it's time all the time to negate the no 'now'. An authentic alien art work wonder wanders takes time to trigger its ink-abject ancient angoisse sensations seeping slowly soaking up under both by your nauseating nostrils and anals and eggo-eyels everywhere emptying entrails exogenously.

Illustrational paint (as 'filling-in-in form') negates the slurp spillage spunking sensation of oozing leaking lamella whiplash whites - with its inane smooth silky soft sauve sterile sutured sealed skin surfaces. Where as 'anti' or oily 'non-illustrational paint' (Titian, Rembrandt, Velázquez, Turner, Monet, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Corinth, Nolde, Soutine, Smith, Bacon, Auerbach, Alien, etc.) shoe-shine sheen through the breaking barrier oil of the thin skin surface releasing radiant leaking light: pearl paint 'becomes-the-form' and does not just 'fill-it-in' (like illustrational 'painting-by-numbers' does in the freeze-framed heavy-handed-heads of Freud and Saville which lack loin lid leak, lack sparkle, lack sensation being blandly locked in illustration).

'Non-illustrational' paint is not 'read' by the eye or the brain but 'felt' by the body and the nervous system: 'illustrational paint' is 'conscious' ('you know what you're doing and you know how to do it') - whereas 'anti illustrational paint' is subconscious ('you don't know what you're doing and you don't know how to do it'). The moment 'you know what you're doing' you're just imposing another form of illustration which is boring and banal.

Bacon bleeds on oily oozed poignant puss paint: "What has never yet been analyzed is why this particular way of painting is more poignant than illustration. I suppose because it has a life completely of its own. It lives on its own, like the image one's trying to trap; it lives on its own, and therefore transfers the essence of the image more poignantly. So that the artist may be able to open up or rather, should I say, unlock the valves of feeling and therefore return the onlooker to life more violently." (Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1993).

Blanchot is concerned with 'the materiality of language' whereas Bacon is concerned with 'the brutality of fact': Blanchot's 'materiality of language' leaks towards Bacon's 'materiality of paint': "My hope lies in the materiality of language, in the fact that words are things, too, are a kind of nature." (Littérature et la droit à la mort, Maurice Blanchot). For Bacon (oil) paint is a 'kind of nature' having its own organic 'structure': "You see, you don't know how the hopelessness in one's working will make one just take paint and just do almost anything to get out of the formula of making a kind of illustrative image - I mean, I just wipe it all over with a rag or use a brush or rub it with something or anything or throw turpentine and paint and everything else onto the thing to try to break the willed articulation of the image, so that the image will grow, as it were, spontaneously and within its own structure and not my structure....And out of all that, possibly a more organic image arises than if it was a willed image" (Francis Bacon: The Brutality of Fact, Interviews with David Sylvester, Thames & Hudson, 1987). We need to severe 'words' and 'paint' away from narrative and illustration. Poetry for Blanchot, Paint for Bacon, is an-archic antagonis angoisse acidic abject atta alterity unravelling uncanny underworlds Poetry for Blanchot, Paint for Bacon, does not coincide with itself: it is never self-identical and 'refers' no no referent: 'it' is nothing knowable and has nothing-to-say.

Bacon's brave bravura angoisse abject pushed-pus-paint is initially Blanchot's 'The Unthinkable': that thrown wetty which leaks inking in eggo-excess of every foam 'form' or realist 'referent'. Bacon's pearl paint is the froth that floats on the top of both your coffees which leaves its trace of foam on your face. For Bacon, 'painting' - like 'poetry' for Blanchot - is outside 'subjectivity' - being thrown out-of-this-world happening as an event always already before the world began and after the world ended. Bacon's alien-images are not 'twisted' but time itself is twisted and warped and inverted where the image gets caught and trapped out-of-time. So Bacon's aliens become ancient after-birth lamella leakage that survives there own death. Bacon is far more concerned and delighted and excited by that smelly stinky anal after-birth bled slop surf slime stuff that throws ooze out that the frozen figure: this thrown loin lamella leakage heat has now no 'subjectivity', no 'thought', no 'consciousness' and 'it' is neither alive nor dead not 'being' both to-be-and-not-to-be you see. For Blanchot it is horror that hollows out the subject: "In horror a subject is stripped of its subjectivity, of its power to have a private existence...horror turns the subjectivity of the subject, its particularity qua entity, inside out. It is a participation in the there is, in the there is which returns in the heart of every negation, in the there is that has 'no-exists'. It is, if we may say so, the impossibility of death, the universality of existence even in its annihilation." ('De l' existence à la existant', Maurice Blanchot). Bacon's exiled aliens have no 'place in the world' in that they are 'non-identical' and nomadic outside-the-world 'doing time' being born zombies. Bacon's alien Others, as nomadic oozed outsiders on alien territory, are inside-out 'doing-time' all the time always already being both Caged and Uncaged at the same non-time all the time. As Blanchot breathed: "We are delivered over to another time - to time as other, as absence and neutrality; precisely to a time that can no longer redeem us....A time without event, without project, without possibility, an unstable perpetuity...in which we are arrested and incapable of permanence, a time neither abiding nor granting the simplicity of a dwelling place." (Le grand refus, L' entretien infini, Maurice Blanchot, Paris 1969).

Foucault on the shining sheen of spilt split words eggo-echoes the thrown sheen-shining of non-illustrational puss paint in images by Bacon where wet slurp-stuff 'has a life completely of its own': "At the moment when language, as spoken and scattered words, becomes an object of knowledge, we see it reappearing in a strictly opposite modality: a silent cautious disposition of the word upon the whiteness of a piece of paper, where it can possess neither sound nor interlocutor, where it has nothing to say but itself, nothing to do but to shine in the brightness of its being." (Michael Foucault, The Order of Things, Random House, 1970).

Throwing Falling Projecting Forgetting Opening up through throttling frothing forward Leaking Lamella loin cloth cunt initially is Bacon's brave bled whip way of operating oily fucking form as the thrown eternal return of the sensation. Bacon's Radical Forgetting of Conscious Conception initiates instinctive Subconscious Slime or Ontological Ooze; forgetting fuels primordial paint. Bacon's ab-use of paint may be what Mark Cousins calls: "A non-intellectualist conception of action." Bacon never knows 'what the paint will do'; the paint dictates the form through force froth foam, the grain and the twist and the leak of paint fuel the form via force. With Lucien Freud it is all conscious 'filling-in-form' '(painting-by-numbers'); with Bacon it is all subconscious leaking lamella liquids formed via froth foam forgetting and not knowing. As Bacon said to Sylvester: "I know what I want to do, but I don't know how to do it. And I look at them almost like a stranger, not knowing how these things have come about and why have these marks that have happened on the canvas evolved into these particular forms." (The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames and Hudson). Mark Cousins on Radical Forgetting:

"Nietzsche takes then the analysis of conscienceless-ness of all action as also being in some sense a model for action. Right. That is to say anyone who wishes to under take something must in some sense forget...importantly...they must forget why they've done it otherwise their capacity to do it would be undermined...What is at stake for Nietzsche in his elaboration of Goethe is precisely the capacity to act which depends upon a radical form of forgetting...an act of passion requires that you in some sense forget the object of passion. Really what it opens up is what you might call a kind of non-intellectualist conception of action which completely opposes the normal kind of Western way of looking at an action...The kind of dynamics which are unleashed in an action depend therefore if not on some absolute forgetting of everything...they depend upon a kind of inspired absent mindedness...It is not about being focused upon something - far from it - in some sense it's objectless; it's the quality of a kind of internal dynamic; it is the unleashing of a passion where we suddenly find ourselves not terribly acquainted with the internal structure of a passion..." (Mark Cousins, Forgetting, public lecture 8.11.2002, Architectural Association.)

Bacon's animal aliens have happened always already frozenly foging forgetting that they were wasted 'human beings' or openly ore raw rather always already remembered recently that they were waiting always already animal aliens because they could not see themselves reflected in the mirror; they were always already on the other side of the mirror; they were the tain of the mirror which does not reflect only refract bending the image inside out on the other side of the mirror passing through the mirror throwing time in reverse order out of order over there and not over here. Bacon's loitering Lying Figure in a Mirror (1971) is inside 'outside the field of vision' free-floating in the swollen silken sea of bouyant bathed blindness wet where neither of you can enter into because you are both locked out side the frame of the image which cages the lying figure violating vision, space and time which don't exist 'on the other side' (the inside-outside) of the non-reflecting mirror. The inverted mirror of the inverted image is tantalizingly tainted in Bacon. In Bacon the mirror of time becomes the black hole out time that implodes time to a no-time in a no-space image to a no-image-thing out of time all the time on the other side of time: a black hungry anus that sucks in fucks in the image-thing out-it-self shredding it to a no-thing shattering the thrown marked moronic moribund mirror into inked stinking splinter split spilt semen sludge spume sliver sliver slither sludge slurp slumber shine sheen smaze smirch sublime sedate sensations.

Bacon's anaesthesized alien beings are in a constant state of what Heidegger nominates as Benommenheit (dizzy, dazed, dazzled, doped, drugged, dulled, disturbed): they do not speak and have nothing to say to you both - they do not see like you two see because they have reptilian-alien eggo-eye lid leaked sunken sockets. Bacon and Blanchot's fucked fugitive fatigued figures are actually George Romero's Night of The Living Dead zombies that are simply too tired, too fucked, too exhausted, too bored to be bothered to die and are also far too lazy to die and also forget to die but are also always already too lazy to live too lazy to do 'nothing' so simply 'drift from bar to bar and doing nothing' as Bacon ha done. Bacon and Blanchot's ancient angoisse acidic alien animals as forgetting to die are in a state of amnesia and insomnia being born brain dead living-dead there is neither night nor day light nor dark nor nothing. Bacon and Blanchot's fucked fugitive fatigued figures being zombies have no ontological status or known identity being ego erased exiled exited ecstasy elsewhere oozed out of orbit over to time-lag leaking leaking leaking. Bacon and Blanchot's fucked fugitive fatigued figures as trapped in a time-lag could not tell you the time of day or the time of night for they have no time and know no time having all the time in the world to do nothing because all the time they have no time because they are time they are time itself all the time and they have long forgotten to wind up their wrist watches so time stands still at one second to midnight or was it one second to midday they simply cannot say because they cannot speak to tell you the time of day to tell you the time of night and also you must always remember that they have no fucking eyes to see if it is fucking day or if it is fucking night so that is why they never sleep or they never wake all the time not in time out of time so you may well say - if you have the time to say it - that the sedated zombie is in a sense a waste of time a waste of your time a waste of out time though you still seem to have the time and wasted your time but also found time and lost time in the mean time all the time over reading rubbish about the zombie's living-dead tome-lag losing even more time being trapped in a time-warp which wastes your time time and time again and anxiety arrives hollowing out time itself being thrown out of time but in time to tell you you have run out of time to spend even more and more time over a period of time to go on all the time over this stuff that has taken far too much time of your time - time you have now lost and will never recover unless you make up the time another time by finding some time or making some time to make up for lost time in time for when the time comes when you find out you have not the time at all because the time has caught up with itself and run out of time time after time you become lost in time arriving not on time but in time due to bad timing because you had the time and then lost the time so you will now have to wait until another time but a time which you will not know when the time arrives as you miss time all the time. Just in time Bataille said of Bacon's and Blancot's living-dead time-lag zombies as being: "the fusion of subject and object, being as subject non-knowledge, as object the unknown." (Georges Bataille, L'expérience interieure, Paris 1954). "In the end," says Blanchot, the zombie (as painter or novelist) "has only one subject...The horror of existence deprived of the world, the process through which whatever ceases to be continues to be... whatever dies encounters the impossibility of dying. This process is day which has become fatality, consciousness whose light is no longer the lucidity of the vigil but the stupor of lack of sleep, it is existence without being." (Maurice Blanchot, La part du feu, Paris 1949).

Poof pork prick 'partners' pinned Bacon's paintings are predators, prey, pieces of fuck-meat to be fingered, fucked, floored, finished-off: mauled and molested and mutilated and minced meat measured up for sex and slaughter. Bacon's 'alien being' - as a zombie - has no way of being - it simply 'is' (not): 'it' simply does 'its' stuff: squatting shitting smelling snorting sinking stinking spunking in its inky slime swamp swallowing its inky own oily soggy spunk, lapping up, licking up, under inside out its own ontological ooze. Bacon always already knew that the 'human-being' never existed in the first place: Bacon recovers the thrown dormant dinosaur instinct in us all rescuing reptilian remembrance just as Degas, in his pastels and charcoals, realised the alien in woman, the woman as animal, the woman as alien as they do their stuff with their sponges. Degas and Bacon realise the animal form rather than deform the human: Degas and Bacon are accused of 'distorting' the figure or the face: this is a misconception: the 'human form' (whatever that may be) is always already 'distorted' in 'reality': rather Degas and Bacon originate the figure, the face, back-towards its original alien animal form. There are no 'distortions' in Bacon or Degas figures or faces only cracked contortions. Again: Bacon and Degas' faces and figures are not 'disformed' but 'disfoamed' and 'disfrothed' being shape-shifting reptilian aliens which wiggle slither sliver sensationing. Bacon was attracted to tough ancient alien raw reptilian froth features like those of Muriel Belcher, Henrietta Moraes, George Dyer, Isabelle Rawsthorne. Bacon's ancient angoisse aliens do not have such cultural niceties as having a 'sexuality' or playing the privileged pass time of soaking in 'sexual difference': they have no 'sexuality' as they predate such a 'late' historic or hysteric cocktistic cuntstict construct: Bacon's angoisse animal aliens have no 'sex' no 'gender' no 'class' no 'identity no 'ego' - only an angoisse anarchic ejaculated eggo ever cuming coming away after thrown towards to you both already after away before you both had time to run for it as it runs down your face and shoots in your eyes blinding your desire to see it coming towards you when the lid of the eye severed scopic drive drenching desire to see it hitting the eye and bringing death just in time before you had time to see your own deaths taking you two to another time tickling toe sowing sensations.

Bacon and Blanchot's angoisse anarchic acidic alien animals are always restlessly rotten fatigued fucked frothed flawed floored finished exited exile eggisting in inside an abyss swamp sludge sewer oily off the thrown slime scene oozing outside being extinguished and annihilated only the snail-trail trace remaining those left-over traces of time where being has become time lost-in-time 'in' time all the time. With Bacon, the Image becomes a broken Body of flayed filtered fucked frothed frozen fuel Fragments; with Blanchot, the torn taut text bite becomes an abyss body Book of Fragments: fragmented body painting and fragmented body writing is to ignore illustration, is to negate narrative: the fragmented body, the fragmented book cannot be read by you both but only oily sensationed where wounds and words and pushed paint are smelt, swelling, soiled, sensed, seen sheen, slithering sensations spilling out over spine of body, spine of book. For Bacon and for Blanchot the body of the text and the text of the body are always already decomposed dismembered disconnected defamiliarized deranged dropping drained. Blanchot states: "all writing is the spilling of guts." This frisson froth fragmentation scissor sensation is what Bacon and Blanchot nominate as a 'tearing to pieces' (and 'shuttering' for Degas for that matter). To repeat Blanchot again here in particular: "fragmentation is the pulling to pieces (the tearing) of that which never has preexisted (really or ideally) as a whole, nor can it ever be reassembled in any future presence whatever." (Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of The Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1986). For Bacon, Blanchot, Bataille, Burroughs, Beckett and Degas the body bled bare wet was always already loin leaking lamella as a running away flayed falling rotten ruin rubble thrown there over there all out of joint thrown all over the joint thrown out of spine thrown out of time all the time not in time.

Degas and Bacon fuel the fragment, filter the fragment, froth the fragment morphing the primordial past memory of the thrown 'alien' to the impossible present of the fallen 'human' which was always already an extinct ego. For Degas and Bacon then though the 'human subject' was always already the 'alien object' waiting in the wings of the primordial past patiently 'doing-time' all the time. For Degas and for Bacon so-called 'inter-subjectivity' is in fact (always already) 'outer-objectivity' where wounded ego is instead wetted eggo where the fantasy of the 'human condition' becomes the fact of the thrown angoisse 'alien condition' initiated in its inky leaking leftover lamella slime slosh sheen shine slurp surf stuff.

"He was locked in combat with something inaccessible, foreign, something of which he could say: That doesn't exist...and which nevertheless filled him with terror as he sensed it wandering about in the region of his solitude...He saw it, a horrifying being which was already pressing against him in space and, existing outside time, remained infinitely distant. Such unbearable waiting and anguish that they separated him from himself. A sort of Thomas left his body and went before the lurking threat. His eyes tried to look not in space but in duration, and in a point of time which did not yet exist. His hands sought to touch an impalpable and unreal body. It was such a painful effect that this thing that was moving away from him and trying to draw him along seemed the same to him as that which was approaching unspeakably." (Maurice Blanchot, Thomas l' obscur, Gallimard, 1950).

Bacon's Caged/Uncaged animal aliens are totally tantalisingly elevatedly engrossed and angoisse enlighteningly engaged in inviting their thrown form froth foam of ooze eggo environment. For Heidegger 'alien-animals 'are completely engrossed in their wound world of eggo-equipment: “only as non-isolable elements of its environment.” Baocon's Caged/Uncaged alien-animals are always already opaque orgasmic organisms from froth their three organ orbits their tool to trade. Degas and Bacon's freeze-framed force-fractured-flayed-filtered figures turn trapped towards thrown taut trauma turning the twist. Degas and Bacon severe-shadow the head, the face, to remove the 'psychological profile' of the salted slated slain squeezed sieved 'subject' where when the thrown bled body (in and out in) 'itself' becomes the thrown raw 'register' of (primordial reptilian) being bleeding stripped of oozed sic-psyche so so sow sewing sulking slinking silking sensation. With Degas and Bacon the shatter-shuttered-shitted bruised braised bled body as an alienised analised emptied eggo shatter shell empties escapes erupts its indian ink inside out ooze off soaking scene swelling beyond boundaries breaking skin severing slithered slivered sensation. Titian, Rembrandt, Degas , Schiele, and Bacon 'break-the-line' cracking contour bled bare: they know always already that the body does not (really) have contours or lines but fragmented and discontinuous breaks, cracks, holes, gaps, wounds, cuts, bruises: a ruin without a roof, a shelter without a cover, a home without a house to hold being-in-the-world but body broken thus throwing bled being out-of-joint outside-the-world - (outside-the-body as a leaking lamella draining dry being soaked up by the sun and dried to a death). Degas and Bacon do not draw 'in' lines but drag 'out' the line cutting it off either too early or too late but keeping the flow while breaking the line initiating discontinuity into unity of thrown flesh forward. Van Gogh asks in a letter: "What is it to draw? How do we do it? It is the act of clearing a path for oneself through an invisible iron wall." Heidegger stated: "The more we think carefully about 'the line,' the more this immediately persuasive image disappears, without the thoughts that have thereby been ignited having to lose their significance." (Martin Heidegger, On the Question of Being, Pathmarks, Cambridge University Press, 1998). The line is not the contour but the pathway of opening oozed sensations: slithering, slivering, sliding, spilling, sailing. In Degas, Bacon (and even Heidegger) 'the line' does not frame the form but fires the form, filters the form, frays the form opening it up out-of-the-world like a wonderful wound waiting bleeding bare before (you) both. Also 'the line' is constantly cut intensely in alien Anthony Gormley's great groin grating sculpture sliver steel sensation splintered fractured frayed fragments filter flay form free nailing nervous system served severed self sliced spike space sutured silence out-of-time-out-of-joint as an Anaximander Fragment froth forth.

The thrown burnt binary leaked logic of our 'interior/exterior' (ego/eggo) operating ozzerly (in) 'Degas' (and) 'Bacon' is intensified, bled, by the thrown punctuating presence of-on the thrown 'non-identical' (and) 'the stability of the interior' inking oils of (the) embodied embalmed eggo is indeed always already threatened therefore (by the) 'non-identical'. Because bled off of the thrown 'non-identical' the thrown invaded interior of oozed alien artwork becomes bled lost leaked utterly unstable initiating intense inky raw runny rupture oils of the thin linear lie line limit burning brightly between invaded intestine interior and an escaping exterior existing eggo shattered shell showing an alluring auratic angoisse alien alterity again and again always anyway.

"The strict immanence of the spirit of artworks is contradicted on the other hand by a countertendency that is no less immanent: the tendency of artworks to wrest themselves free of the internal unity of their own construction, to introduce within themselves caesuras that no longer permit the totality of the appearance. Because the spirit of the works is not identical with them, spirit breaks up the objective form through which it is constituted; this rupture is the instant of apparition." (Theodor Adorno).

(This thrown ruin rupture of oily dripping draining down Degas' and Bacon's broken-bled-bodies precipitates porous pourings drowning disintegration of oozed alien artworks freeing form foam froth forth forever). Bacon and Degas dice the dormant body boiling it off the bone and splatter the stuff all over the joint but not in the ripe rape reactionary retard spastoid spillages of our dreary dunce de Kooning kunt. De Kooning's warped Women remain on the level of the over-leaked all-too-human where as Degas' and Bacon's 'Women' are not 'human' happenings bred but 'alien' animal cunt creatures decunted, decapitated, decanted. Degas and Bacon do not 'use' photographs (in an awful inane illustrative literal lazy mannered manner) but rather roughly-rawly 'abuse' photographs like they 'abuse' the human by heating, healing, hallowing it into the thrown animal alien already anyway actually).

John Russell stated: "....once when Bacon was working on a portrait his sitter sat still as a statue, only to find that Bacon's concentration was being given unabatedly to a photograph of a hippopotamus which lay on the floor at his feet. Bacon values the photograph as a source of significant falsehood, and he values it as a source of exact information about incidents to which he has not had direct access. (In this latter context he likes to remember that Sigmund Freud had in his possession a set of particularly horrendous photographs from the Viennese police archives; and he has himself been an attentive visitor to the Black Museum in Scotland Yard.) But above all he values it as a way of breaking back into reality: or, equally, of taking reality by surprise. Talking over the use of photographs, Bacon said not so long ago: 'I think of myself as a kind of pulverising machine into which everything I look at and feel is fed. I believe that I am different from the mixed-media jackdaws who use photographs etc. more or less literally or cut them up and rearrange them. The literalness of photographs so use - even if they are only fragments - will prevent the emergence of real images, because the literalness of the appearance has not been sufficiently digested and transformed. In my case the photographs become a sort of compost out of which images emerge from time to time. Those images may be partly conditioned by the mood of the material which has gone into the pulverizer.'..." (John Russell, Francis Bacon, World of Art, Thames & Hudson, 1997). Degas and Bacon are actually pulverizers processing people parts via pastel and paint to pulp activating alien animals where withering ego ends eggo begins boiling burning brightly before you both before you both begin being.

Bacon's alien ante-loping animals (Dyer, Freud, Edwards, Moraes, Rawsthorne, etc) do not have an 'anxiety towards death' because they always already occupy the horizon of death and live in the death-world: they realise instinctively that they are always already deaded: 'potential carcasses'. Death for 'man' - in the end - becomes the same as death for an 'animal' once the 'man' becomes animal, or, rather, realises his animality and alienality. In Degas' charcoals and pastels and in Bacon's paintings, the alien figures are doing 'the twist' as they sake slither sliver about their toilet slime studies and stools: Degas and Bacon realised the reptilian alien animal lurking and loitering beasterly beneath the thin skin sun of the hideous human where wriggling reptilian movements matter. Degas and Bacon's angoisse abject aliens are trapped taut twisting turning prowling, perching, pausing, walking, wanking, winking. In Degas' charcoals and pastels and Bacon's paintings both break the loin-line to thin leak let the thrown contour cunt collapse severing skins the thrown sensation mutating 'human' form froth into 'reptilian' alien form: both see frothed flooded flesh as a sea salt shape shifting with wonderful refracted reflected light leak colour choice crunch cuts splinting and slithering and slivering squeezing sensations of oily floating fleshes. Nailing negation nerves exploded implodes thrown flesh and severed slashed skin shuttered, shattered, shittered sliping slopping slothing so so endured ending up undone engulfing exploding eggo draining in Degas and bruising in Bacon. As Adorno ads: "Art works not only produce imagines as something that endures. They become artworks just as much through the destruction of their own imagerie; for this reason art is profoundly akin to explosion." (Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, 1997). Degas and Bacon explode and implode the body very much like Antony Gormley does with his imploding-exploding nail nervous system steel rod replicants which wire wound wonderfully wondering outside ordinary inane illustration.

As actual end entrails emptied broken bottles of off ego and as eggo exploded do Degas' and Bacon's bled-bodies (as acidic) are always altered flooded filtered fractured froth fragments bred blown-to-torn tattered bits body parts punctuated pruned torn to pickled pieces splattered slices to thin thread splinters severed soaked slime slithers dicing dissecting draining de-fleshed fuel dregs drool leaving leaked lamella liquid loin ejaculation egg ending engulfed enhanced objects oozed off of oils. Degas and Bacon could say of their fucked frayed flayed filtered flesh: "I love you to pieces" or "I love you to bits"; or as Bacon used to love quoting Wilde: "You kill the things you love." Bacon killed Dyer in-the-flesh but gave birth to Dyer in-the-paint. Bacon killed the thing he loved and painted the thing he loved. Bacon said to Sylvester: "What I've always wanted to do is to make things that are really formal yet coming to bits...I've always thought of friendship as where two people really tear one another apart and perhaps in this way learn something from one another...I've always hoped to find another painter I could really talk to - somebody whose qualities and sensibility I'd really believe in - who really tore my things to bits and whose judgement I could actually believe in...But who can I tear to pieces, if not my friends?"

We are always already 'in' bits and pieces; falling to bits, falling to pieces, shattered, shuttered, shitted, slithered, splintered, shredded and skinned contrary cunt to the (un)leaked lifeless frozen figures like Lucien Freud's fixed flesh which is hermetically sealed cellophane skin. Our 'bits' and 'pieces' don't come from the whole but leak leftover from the hungry hole negating non-existent (bleeding) boundary between our insides and our outsides.

Degas' 'Women' and Bacon's 'Men' are not 'women' and 'men' that you both can really 'identify' with because they are dehumanised degenderised desexualised and depsychologised and are sewn sieved sucked served steamed uncooked up to two (you both) seeping slowly froth from an anal sieve soft slowly snaking slithering sprawling shape-shifting in an acidic salty oily slick served off-the-bone in a steamy savoury succulent sour soya sauce salad stream of oozey spunk substance spume sensation suffice of oily shapeless stuff principally pre-ontic ointments outside illustrational identification initially inking in throwing thinking tinkling. But Bacon often observed the thick spunk swabs snailing streaming drool dripping down his horrid hideous fuck fish face.

Degas, Bacon know 'Women' and 'Men', as soft slurp surplus stuff, don't exist-exit (ego) enter (eggo). Degas and Bacon don't do 'Women' and 'Men' served as android anchored subjects smelting smeltering sick-psyches but boiled bare as alien animals: Degas said he saw 'Woman' as 'animal': "I have perhaps too often considered woman as an animal...Oh! Women can never forgive me; they hate me, they can feel that I am disarming them. I show them without their coquetry, in the state of animals cleaning themselves!" (Edgar Degas, Degas by himself, Edited by Richard Kendall, Macdonald & Co., 1987). Bacon saw his bait as alien-animals shape-shifting and slipping and slithering and sliding and squelching between alien-animal altered soggy states.

The Disneyesque Deleuze sentimentally spiritualises the 'animal' in Bacon's art: "The shadow escapes from the body like an animal that we keep hidden within us. Instead of formal correspondences, Bacon's paintings construct a zone of indescernibility, of undecidability between man and the animal. Man becomes an animal, but only on condition that the animal at one and the same time becomes spirit, the spirit of man, the physical spirit of the man who is presented in the mirror as Eumenides or Destiny...." (Gilles Deleuze, The Body, the Flesh and the Spirit: Becoming an Animal, The Logic of Sensation, Flash Art, 112, May, 1983). No: 'man' does not become 'an animal': moronic 'man' was always already 'an animal' all the time so 'man' does not exist anyway already always an animal again after all an ancient accident again and again amen a-animal anyway around and about away.

Raw Real 'identification' in drenched Degas and boiled Bacon's stripped shredded shuttered shattered shitted creeping crawling carefree creatures really readily requires seeing 'something more' memory bound beyond the thrown 'symbolic order' shooting towards the thirst sensation sowing so spunkolic snow. Dust Degas and burnt Bacon were shuddering shredding machines manipulating flayed flesh into split splinters of oozed shot shattered shuttered sensation thrown that dart through both your eyes and down your spine. Drooled Degas and brooding Bacon leaked like left-over pulp pulverising machines reducing 'Women' and 'Men' do dust wet which gradually gets broken blown up under both before your nostrils and arseils.

"I think of myself as a kind of pulverising machine into which everything I look at and feel is fed." (Francis Bacon: Life & Violent Times, Sinclair, Crown Publishers, New York, 1993) Degas and Bacon's ab-uses of pastel and paint cunt constitutes a severing of self, a slicing of sexuality, an emptying of ego where only the empties egg of oozed eggo entrails remains remaindered fucked forever. Derrida draws drags off on the theme of the machine that filters fought as an anal froth foam form of oily thinly thrown though that scatters shatters splinters spits splits sewing sowing seedy sensationism:

"the difficulty of principle is that there is no unity of occurrence: fixed form, identifiable theme, determinable elements as such. Only anthemes, scattered throughout, gathered up everywhere. If, for example, the machine only selected words or themes, it could draw them all into a net of three, three and a half pages:" (Jacques Derrida, Glas 1974).

One operates oiled ontological ooze from fresh froth slurp slime subconscious sea soaked severed self. Oil paint opens out pushed pain opem while waiting at anxiety eggo-exit. What is at stake at steak is not pain but paint: what is in at stake is steak, streak, streaky best back bacon served sliced slithered off the bloodless bone off of the thrown bruised body served in a sensational succulent spunk sauce. Bacon throws primordial paint-Being at the canvas horizon being Being Leaked (there) - as Ontological Drool - is always already out of 'in-place' materialized in the thrown pushed paint as an alienated assault upon the nailed nervous system. Giacinto Scelsi's (1905-1988) I presagi and Iannis Xenakis' (1922-2001) Rushes and Edgar Varèse's (1883-1965) Ameriques are alien alteric Baconian sound-bites of Heideggerian Thowness Falling Waiting outside reference narrative meaning.

When Bacon's Liquid Throwness wounding 'works wonders' it instantly leaves-leaks in-its 'mutant marks' of oozed alien-being bled up upon you your yawning dripping drooling broken bled bare body. Bacon's Throwness-Falling-Puss-Paint becomes the messy memory trace-turd of your shit, spunk, saliva, slime which you always already wish wasn't there at hand, at arse, at mouth, at eye, at ear. You always already love the smell of your own shit and spunk and cunt juices but hate the smell of others shit, spunk, cunt-juices you cunt. Bacon rubs your nose, your eyes, your ears, your mouth ink-in your you soft soggy shit spunk slime sludge soot. Bacon rubs your earless-eyes in fucking-spunk so your mouthless-eyes become all sore, itchy, hurty and all clogged up so you can't go to the see side for a swim because you will get see salt in your noseless-eyes as well and will no longer be able to sea. Bacon rubs your ears in stuff so you cannot sea or swim through site of the shite shitting hitting the eye. You no longer smell Because your arse is clogged up. You can no longer see Because your ears are clogged up. You can no longer hear Because your eyes are clogged up. You no longer speak because your cock has been cut off: Your mouth, eyes, ears, nose, anus, cock, cunt, gaps, groins, loin-leaks, toes and tears are blocked up under beyond by Bacon's broken 'bits and pieces' blown up to shreds by shrapnel all over the place. Bacon's Heideggerian Throwness Falling Drooling drips reveal a raw primordial Sensationism beyond the banality of the commonsense senses. Bacon's Shot Sensationism Chance-Throwness froths the figural not the figure, the alien (foam-froth-form) not the human (foam-filth-form). Squelching Sensationism ink-is always already at anxious worm work in initiating the thrown acidic arsenic arse alien buggered body bled ooze olive oils opening up under the thrown spume spunking sludge soak salt slurping slack slurp spat offal off oozey ointment oriental oral orifices love letting liquid loin lemonade lamella leaking lush leftover dregs drool-drips drip drip drip-dry-drip-dry-drip-die.

According to Gilles Deleuze, in Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, 1981, the triptych form enabled the artist to engage with the human figure without being drawn into the banality of narrative. "It's not only that the painting is an isolated reality, and not only that the triptych consists of three isolated panels and the fundamental rule that they never be united into a single frame: it's rather that the Figure itself is isolated in the painting. . . . And Bacon has often told us why: in order to avoid the figurative, illustrative, and narrative character that the Figure would necessarily assume if it weren't in isolation."

Bacon's primordial paint is like a prehistoric language without words where the paint is without a human referent or human origin and yet refers back to something more original than itself; a semblance sensation sense of some prehistoric or a post-human alien condition materialised in paint: nobody is present in Bacon's pushed paint but someone is absent; or not yet arisen; Blanchot saw a language without a narrative: echoing Bacon's paint without narrative:

"Like sacred language, what is written comes from no recognisable source, is without author or origin, and thereby always refers back to something more original than itself. Behind the words of the written work, nobody is present; but language gives voice to this absence, just as in the oracle, when divinity speaks, the god himself is never present in his words, and it is the absence of god which then speaks." (Maurice Blanchot).

While Bacon did eventually return to the evil banality of 'narrative' and 'illustration' by the late 1970s, Bacon's early 1960's images have arbitrary paint pulsations outside 'narrative' and 'illustration'. Even when 'narrative' is read on Bacon and Joyce's ab-images, it is always already added after the event of sensationism. Cunt critics cannot decode, deconstruct, Bacon's sensation paint whiplashes because they have no name, no referent.

Cunt critics will want try to 'read' really inane 'narrative' into the arid angoisse 'ab-images' of bled- Bacon (and juice-Joyce) rather than directly sense the spunked-senationism. Cunt critics try to block out the smell of spunk that shoots them in the lie of their eggless eye arse hole whole. So such one or cont cannot white 'write' about angoisse slurp-sensatioinism - even ever now nothing is initiated so 'said'. Remember raw that the thrown being born by Bacon's severed shadowed shape shifting sub-species specimens scream spurt spit slurp sip swig skin syringe shave squirm squint swallow saliva slither smell sit soil snore snog sod sob soggy scented suffocation snapshot sequence snarl snort sigh shake shiver shudder snake sliver slither slide sore squat splatter spatter splendour shit shock spastic spasm sensation suck shag spunk (rather than) speak. Bacon 'does not speak' sensation but throws sensation; the paint thrown spattering, spurting, hitting the canvas and bounces back thrown falling back at the blind spectators alienating nervous system sensations causing the blind spectator to stall fall from throwness leaking becoming falling throwing as atta angoisse alien-ate-ing:

"Falling Being-in-the-world is not only tempting and tranquilizing; it is at the same time alienating. Yet this alienation cannot mean that Dasein gets factically torn away from itself. On the contrary, this alienation drives it into a kind of Being which borders on the most exaggerated 'self-dissection', tempting itself with all possibilities of explanation, so that the very 'characterologies' and 'typologies' which it has brought about are themselves already becoming something that cannot be surveyed at a glance". (Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, 1927).

Heidegger introduces the term 'Befindlichkeit' which is the way our oozing 'Thrownness' is disclosed to us via 'the mood of chance' which visits us on and off. Baconian 'Thrownness' is disclosed through the thrown nervous system at The Roulette Wheel and at The Canvas ('where he finds himself') or 'loses himself' winning or losing the playing Freud's Fort Da Game of Chance. The Croupier rakes in the chips or pushes them back - like Bacon Throws in the paint or erases it: Bacon pushes the paint: pushes his luck to the limit. Throwing the Dice. Throwing the Paint. Throwing Being. Bacon Befinlichkeit.

Denys Sutton referred to Bacon's love of roulette regarding Bacon's paint noir period: "To use an analogy culled from the tables, he has staked so much on the noir that the rouge has been left to take care of itself; as a result the rouge has rarely, if ever, turned up. What is more, the significance of the noir (the image) has been lessened through familiarity: once the initial impact is digested, one begins to question and even to challenge the means with which it has been secured."

Our oozed-thrown blown bodily eggo- experiences the thrown paint castrating cancelling out the scopic drive to the death drive. Anti-illustrationa Baconian paint cannot be seen by the eye but is embodied by the body. Confronting the non-rational arbitrary marks of Bacon's 'throwness' of pure-paint we feel 'thrown' into an alien world. The 'throwness' of Bacon's paint becomes the psychic register and memory of our pre-historic 'throwness' and 'fallness'. We are 'as' a 'thrown' and at a 'loss for words' in front of Bacon's sleet sloshed on sensationism throwness of the pure puss paint. We do not feel 'at home' in front of Bacon's images but feel on 'alien territory'. Our non 'human' alien existence is a brute fact, like that of those alien pre-ontological drool dripping jaw juices joy coming towards you in Bacon's use of putrid puss paint; and like the slithering spermatic spurt splatters of pre-ontic ooze, Bacon's repugnant repellent paint is the memory and remainder and reminder of that sleet slime soggy stuff that is always already oozing from your orifices. For Bacon and froth Heidegger, 'thrownness' is essentially disclosed through a bodily felt fluid leaking lamella out-of-the-world. Baconian Heideggerian Freudian Fort froth Da Froth 'thrownness' Leaking causes cramps, nervousness and anxiety as 'it' has no 'object' reference point; there is nothing for you to 'hang onto' but fluids shooting spurting spattering splattering stuff leaking away towards you staining you in its spume soggy squid silver spunk slime you can't clean off; indeed, the more you try a remove, rub off the oozesnesses the more they remain sunk in; you cannot remove the spunk stains of Bacon's Trauma. Twin Twin Towers Falling Becoming Ruins Opening to Becoming Throwness Falling Twin Tower torso trunks Fly Falling recalling Bacon's Ruined Torsos to without Head, Arms, Legs, Organs served as severed headless, armless, legless, nameless: By Being Damaged and Being Ruined becoming Larger than Life Outstripping the Original thrown form forming a Body Becoming Alien. Bacon's Leaking Reptile Ruin Torsos Open Up the Body of Becoming atta Alien Again. The Trade Twin Towers (towards) Atta Alien Attack 'amticipated' Bacon's Painting (March 1985): coming flying falling thrown towards you all coming to get you all all the time all the time out of time in time : falling, throwing burning buildings beings bled bare breaking the frame, the glass, spilling over the edge of not-being-there (anymore) all the time.

In our being thrown in front of Baconian imagery, we do not choose the way we were thrown for being thrown froth forth is instead a becoming shape shifting alien again and again already as it were. We did not 'choose' to exist, but exist by 'chance' and by 'accident' and by our throwness - but a 'chance' and an 'accident' and a throwness that are always already 'deeply ordered' and this is not a paradox. We have to open out to the valves of sensation in our slime state of our accidental 'throwness' in order to let be our authentic alien being there. Bacon stated to Sylvester: "There is a kind of sensational image within the very, you could say, structure of your being, which is not to do with a mental image." It is always already a Primordial Alien Bodily Image. Bacon throws the dice and the paint with the same accidental 'ordering' of chance. As 'chance', atta Alien-Being-Baconian-Heideggerian 'throwness' is always already in a state of being in the 'throw' and not in the 'know'. Bacon's images, as never 'finished' or 'sutured', cannot be 'known' or 'read' as they are always already in the 'throw' and so we cannot 'grasp' them and cannot even look at them 'whole' only hole. Bacon's 'wet' paint, as slithering shitting slime spunk stuffs, slips and drips eternally bleeding. Bacon's visceral voluptuous vomit paint become the 'stain' reminder-memory of how we may be 'thrown' as Alien Being and 'mark' the possibilities of Alien Being with open-ended 'throwness'; the bodily oozing orifices keep 'open' the 'flow' of Alien Being Throwness. You 'register' and 'identify' your pre-historic Alien Being in these dripping splattered bodily fluid leftovers; stains of sow Alien Being that remain to be 'scene' and never 'seen'. Being Alien 'thrown' is 'one thing', but knowing how to be 'authentic atta alien being' (before after 'throwness') is another. Bacon said that his cleaner may be able to 'throw' the paint as well as he does, but the cleaner would not know what to 'do' with the 'thrown' paint afterwards. Bacon's lets his 'thrown' paint 'be' by working instinctively with its 'structure' and not with his 'structure'. Bacon stated to Sylvester that ' throwing' as 'throwness' is an alien attempt to: "try to break the willed articulation of the image, so that the image will grow as it were, spontaneously and within its own structure and not my structure." The a-image (as the alien-eggo) must a-organically froth from fresh a-slime spunk ooze oils. Pushed pus paint always aspires to the agnoisse art of oily acidic atta alien attack spray spurt spunk-ink-in its frothy foamy freshness.

For Francis Bacon then, 'Chance Throwness' is 'Radical Revealing' of 'Conscious Concealing. Heidegger spurted in Parthmarks: "The unhidden must be torn away from a hiddenness; it must in a sense be stolen from hiddenness......Truth originally means what has been wrested from hiddenness. Truth is thus a wresting away in each case, in the form of a revealing. The hiddenness can be of various kinds: closing off, hiding away, disguising, covering over, masking, dissembling."

Bacon's 'throwing' paint is 'unconcealing unconsciousness'; throwing nervous system, subconscious, at canvas, at spectator. Bacon's 'throwing' becomes 'spunking' where white whips of paint become shooting spunk across the canvas cunt. Putrid puss paint becomes materialised male hysteria as it spurts, shoots shouting for raw recognition. Donald Kuspit: "Bacon's archetypal hysterical figure is a 'hyper-aesthetic memory' , a form of 'strangulated' speech. His figure is in a 'hypnoid state' ,'very intense but...cut off from associative communication.' This is its existence as a repressed yet nagging memory. At the same time, it is abreacted through painterliness; the 'strangulated affect' it embodies finds a 'way out' through painterly speech....Bacon seems to posit hysteria as in its own dramatic way an ideal mode of representing oneself as a person....All Bacon's figures live in a time warp, at once radically contemporary yet belonging to a dead world.....The painterliness that gives hysterical flair to the person also mutilates that being into oblivion, generalizing it toward nonbeing....Bacon's hysterical painting is paradoxical, and never more so when it gives authority to inherently unauthoritative, almost banal figures. This is an authority the figures have borrowed from art, for the authority of art ultimately reside in the fact that it is the ultimate exhibitionism, making a more memorable splash than anything, even if that splash destroys or cancels out - represses and buries - the reality it represents, and thus makes us more anxious about it." (Hysterical Painting, Donald Kuspit, Art Forum, January. 1986).

What is the Origin of Alien Art? What Heidegger wants to know is "What is the Origin of Work and Art"? He says "Origin means that from and by which it is and as it is." What something is as it is; we call it essence or sensation. The origin of something is the source of its sensation, where it shines from, where it shimmers from; its abject alien aura. What makes alien art (an) art work? The authentic alien art work comes from the alien artist and the alien artist becomes an alien artist by the alien art work, which is the sensations. The thrown alien artist is initiating origin of the thrown shining sensation.

The slithering shimmering shining sensationism is the eggo origin of the alien artist. The abject alien artist and the alien sown sensation are sewn Zusemmengehornkeit (meaning belonging together). What brings them together? Abject Alien Art. Alien Art is the ab-origin of both an alien artist and a shining sensation. But, can alien art be an alien origin at all? Heidegger answered. "It is nothing more than a word to which nothing real any longer correspond s." What an authentic alien att art is instead should be sensed and smelt from the thrown alien aura ooze of the shimmering shining sensation. We know the shimmering sensation of alien art only from the sensationism of the alien art. We have seek to sow to sensation that we are moving in a melting shimmering shining slithering spunking sensationism slime. Slime sensations that we are moving in, melting in, are a Hermeneutic Sensationism, involving instinctive interpreting - soaking subconscious salt sea sensations producing pristine prick pus pearls.

'Alien Thingliness' is an alien way of sensing about the 'inner sensation' or 'sensation of things', i.e. what makes them what they are. Heidegger never talks about the 'property' or 'quality' of an 'alien thing' that makes it the 'alien-thing' it is: Heidegger senses a slithering Sensationism that shimmers and slivers an alien art object: the shining Sensationism is the Abject Aura of the Alien Object ; the aura is the sensation, the sensation is the aura that haunts and hovers over the ghost of the alien object. An authentic alien art-ooze object always already auras an alien art object; floating, fleeting, fleeing flying foregoing forgetting grounding, gravity. Recalling both Bacon and Jawlensky, Heidegger understood that the painted portrait 'shines' sensation outside illustration: the shimmering colours bleed the contours sensationing outside narrative: Bacon and Jawlensky take colour to its limit exploding the form of the face lifting it off the bone of being (human); Freud's colourless framed-frozen-faces are far too tight, too closed-in, too measured, too 'linear', so never 'leak light' so never 'shimmer shine' out the truth of being:

"Colour shines and wants only to shine. When we analyze it in rational terms by measuring its wavelengths, it is gone. It shows itself only when it remains undisclosed and unexplained. It causes every mercy calculating importunity upon it to turn into a destruction".

Poetry, Language, Thought, Martin Heidegger.

Heidegger said: "It is precisely in great art - and only such art is under consideration here - that the artist remains inconsequential as compared with the work, almost like a passageway that destroys itself in the creative process for the work to emerge". Boiling Bacon empties ego egging eggo leaving leaking lamella leftovers. Once the initiated initial image has been bled and leaked out the trace of the oozed alien artist violently vaguely vanishes.

The thrown untide undone unkonwn 'unthought' (prediscursive, preconceptual, prehistorical, presexual, prelinguistic, prelogical) authentic agnoisse atta abject ambiguous alteric archaic alien art work wound is initiated inside blown being-out-the-world womb thrown through froth forth from an atta alien asteroid always already coming away towards you outside illustration, thinking and sight: an authentic agnoisse alteric alien atta art originates outside the thrown wound womb world: alien art exist eggo object orbits the ego of the eaten earth: a shooting star that shatters its identity on impact leaving leakage lamella shimmering shining sensationism with what Bacon calls "all the foam of its freshness" still clinging to it. Alien Art Object (as an empty Eggo) is a self-contained shell which cracks open oozing leaking liquid lamella spilling spume sperm sensationism on the earth ego. The throw eggo-event oil-of atta alien art is in the leak-loss of subjectivity, the loss of sexuality attending atta alien alterity aiming at seeking sensation salt. The 'last man' always already becomes the 'first alien'. The thrown abject alien artist is in a 'thing' which is neither 'subject' nor 'object' but a thrown threat against the split spliced subject. The thrown angoisse atta alien art object ooze is initially something violently vivaciously viscerally expelled, eggoed, arseholed, abjected. The abject archaic alien art work will thus threaten the thrown subject split bled boundaries: a no-thing excluded and eggoed. "We may call it a border; abjection is above all ambiguity. Because, while releasing a hold, it does not radically cut off the subject from what threatens it... Abjection preserves what existed in the archaism of pre-objectal relationship, in the immemorial violence with which a body becomes separated from another body in order to be..." (Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror).

Can a 'Contemporary Art' exist? No. As an egging Egon Schiele shoe shone: "Art cannot be modern; Art is primordially eternal." Maurice Blachot bleeds: "The 'modern era' presupposes relations that have been maintained between the present, the past, and the future, be these relations of opposition or of contrast. But let us imagine changes such that these relations would no longer have a directing force. We will no no longer be conscious of belonging to modern times, nor of opposing ourselves to an age that is past; the modern will in its turn be outmoded as a mode of becoming. When history turns, this movement of turning that implies even the suspension of history (in the name of a utopian truth) also revokes 'the tradition of the new'. (Blanchot, 1962).

An authentic alien art is always already 'pre-primordial' and 'post-contemporary' and does not know nowness. Rachel Whiteread's waiting works are archaic alien art as instinctual installations of The Uncanny Shudder of the Abject Sublime sowing the thrown sensation of an alien anxiety as silence. Whiteread's well worn 'works' cannot be categorised as 'conceptual' or 'contemporary' but bled born torn time traces of the archaic alien arcadia as the ancient-modern memorial melting mesmerising mourning. Whiteread's worried works assign us to accept an alien anxiety as an authentic state sensation of oozed Otherness outside-the-world uncovering unconcealment. As alien anxiety attack artefacts Whiteread's womb works cannot be 'conceptual' because anxiety is not 'conceptual' as "Everyday familiarity collapses." (Heidegger on alien-ated anxiety). Whiteread's 'everyday objects' are exiled as 'cast-aside' castaways thrown into Unsettledness as alien anxiety attack moistly materialising the memory of the Uncanny which is the thrown raw register of Anxiety.

Whiteread's well worn work is the thrown thrust open cast caressing firm frothyness of the throwness of the new as the uncannyness of the old and long lost and far forgotten calling coming back too to haunt house drip drain stain shadow the no now. Whiteread's waiting wailing works trace the torn trauma of terminated name and negate the narrative of time by be installing image as an anti-image off-of left leaked lostness as an absent alien awe aura apparition off-of the shudder of the sensation of silence as an inited-exited exiled entombed-echo excess-erasure erupting radiantly remembering recalling nothing nailing namelessness as a homelessness as an uncannyness as a shadowness shaft sheltering sensationed psyche sewer smouldering spunk stained sheets. Weeping Whiteread's water works are As essentially exited Exiled apparitions as Entombed Eggo echoes suturing sensation Situation silenced as an awaiting projected-present formed from frothed forged Forgetting forging Remembering real. Whiteread's whiffing works were always already as 'man made' matter waiting while Whiteread waited awhile activating an atta 'alien artefact' apparition.

Whiteread's wornout concealed casts cast as a sutured shadow off-on Letting Presence as Sensationing Absence where concealment is unconcealment as Abpresencings where Whiteread's works work as Abeing in Letting Presence shine in the shadow of Sensationg Presence as an alien apparition about to abort as an Absence. Whiteread's white-washed 'House' houses Heidegger's 'House' housing an alien Being being bled bare: an Absence as an alien apparition of outed plastered Presence as Absence because no being is at home only hoovering on over orbit hovering her home as the severing of sight and site as the sown soul sensation of orbiting The Uncanny as Freud frothed further thinking The Uncanny as that: "class of the frightening which leads back to what is known of old and long familiar." Cousins coins: "The uncanny seems to be that which is strange and out of place but recalls it as being in the register of was always already there but forgotten or repressed. The definition is taken by Anthony Vidler together with Shelling's definition that the meaning is 'something that ought to have remained secret but which has come to light'. The materialisation of the space and the cast of the 'outside of the inside' of the house expose as visible what had been the unthought of part of the house at least from the point of view of the exterior. This is what lends 'House' the character of inside/outside..." Mark Cousins, Rachel Whitread: Inside Outcast, Tate Issue 10/Winter 1996).

Whiteread's whiling works linger awhile as 'alien objects' oozed out-of-joint with 'human subjects' who are absented severed subjects becoming 'being alien' as: 'object-to-object' not 'subject-to-object.' As an alien Abpresence Whiteread's whiling works are always already out-of-time throwing the 'present' past persisting and arriving as an exiled endurance entering exiting as a fort-da-flux falling off out-of-joint joining future to past by passing the present.

Whiteread's waiting works as attuning an awaiting Absentpresence as a projected primordial Presentabsence sow shivering shining sensations out of The Uncanny Shudder that throws hovers hoovers hollows housing homelessness. However for Heidegger as well as for weeping Whiteread homelessness is indeed much more primordial present as an alien projectedness than then being here (and human) at home because by being bled homeless one is always already at home in the world and out the world at the same no time since sensation sizzles shimmers shifts now: not sitting settling stilling sealing dwelling dooring. Waiting Whiteread's hunted 'House' is-in homelessness housed out-of-the-world 'not-at-home' as an apparition punctuated primordial phenomenon unknown unearthed uncanny unseen. Whiteread's waiting hiding 'House 'as dread Dasein always exists so that it takes time for itself sensations itself tasking time for itself it utters itself in silence in such a way it is always saying time as silencing time as-in the no-now for forging her hearing 'House' here is unearthed unhinged ungrounded in movement in motion in memory of the no-now as the sensation of time as the sensation of taste as the sensation state of psychic sensationing.

Heideggerian-Homeless alien being as an angoisse anxiety is initiated as always already unnerved unearthed untied undone unsettled: unheimlich. The thrown shuddering sensation of our worn Whiteread's haunted hollowed homeless 'House' houses Heideggerian Being bled bare there Thrown through the Window of being becoming an angoisse atta Aten alien angst aura awe apparition after targeting Twin Towers together vivaciously vitriolic voluptuously violating vision: Dread follows the Bliss of Anxiety. As an alien anxiety attack the thrown Twin Tower Aten atta attacks went wonderfully well: were 'magnificent' were 'marvelous' were 'miraculous' were 'mesmerising' were 'musing' were 'illuminating' were 'intoxicating' were 'inspiring' were 'invigorating' were 'startling' were 'stunning' were 'scintillating' were 'sparkling' were 'shattering' were 'shining' were 'shimmering' were 'shuddering' were 'sensationing' were 'tranquillising' were 'tantalising' were 'turnering' were 'terminating' were 'encapsulating' were 'exhilarating' were 'engulfing' were 'eternalising' were Welcoming an Eternal Return of our awaiting awakening amnesia Amun. The primordial-shudder of the thrown Twin Tower atta attack is the amazing abject-sublime Aten Event of the Eternal Return of our awoken Amun. The Twin Tower atta Aten attack Became the Uncanny Sensation of the forth-da-fluxing of the Eternal Return as a reversal of time Becoming before After the Twin Towers were thrown up were always already thrown down. The twinkling Twin Tower atta attack as an alien Aletheia as a 'self-showing' an attuning Aten Amun as an aufscheinen schaffen shining sensationing as a sorge-strukur semblance as an 'Alien Becoming' as an 'Over-alien' assigns a 'metaphysical musing' a 'metaphysical mourning' a 'metaphysical memorial' to the 'Last Man'.

The thrown Titan Twin Tower atta Aten attack - as an amazing Eternal Return of the Sensation - is the Becoming Being of the synthesis of all sensations as an angoisse 'metaphysical mirage' assigning an Amun as a pyrotechnic presencing of outed unhiddeness unveiling afterwards a 'metaphysical melting' a 'metaphysical meditation' a 'metaphysical mediation' a 'metaphysical meeting' a 'metaphysical movement' between Becoming Alien and Mourning Man as the Will to Power as Art. Alien Being becomes visible in Alien Images as they constitute the Being of alien beings, and therefore are themselves the true beings, the true. As 'alien art' is 'the true' - the true metaphysical alien activity available as an annihilator and activator as Heidegger has it: "The tragic belongs to the aesthetic domain...The supreme art is the tragic; hence the tragic is proper to the metaphysical essence of beings....the terrifying is what is affirmed; indeed, affirmed in its unalterable affiliation with the beautiful. Greatness and great heights subsist together with the depths and with what is terrifying; the more originally the one is willed, the more surely the other will be attained.. 'Frightfulness is proper to greatness: let us not be deceived (WM, 1028). Affirmation of the convergence of these opposites is tragic insight, the tragic attitude; it is what Nietzsche also calls the 'heroic'..." (Martin Heidegger, Incipit tragoedia; Nietzsche's First Communication of the Doctrine of Return; Nietzsche by Martin Heidegger: Volumes 1 & 2, Harper Collins, 1991).

Annihilation and Atening as Attaing Amuning are Essential Endgame attributes to the Eternal Return of the being of Being: Auschwitz and the thrown Twin Tower atta attack are Essential Events to the thrown Eternal Return of the tantalising Alien as the Highest Sensation since Nietzsche nominates the Eternal Return of the Sensation such: "...the highest formula of affirmation that can ever be achieved." Alien Being becomes visible according to Nietzsche in the Sensation since they constitute the true beings - the true. Auschwitz and the thrown Twin Tower atta attack as the thrown Essential Essence of the Eternal Return of the Sensation as an attaining-attuning are always already replaying rehearsing resensationing: negating 'never again' as always already activated again and again and again and again and again ad infinitum repeating repeating repeating. We wetterly deeply desire (subconsciously) the frisson-jouissance juices of the Twin Tower atta attack and annihilation at Auschwitz as a primordial passion a primordial pleasure a primordial pain so there is absolutely no point in pontificating: 'It must never happen again' because it has to happen again - again and again and again: so saying: never again is always already saying again and again as angoisse, dread, desire, terror, torment, tragedy are our 'essential truth', our 'essential being', as being of Being being thrown out-of-the-world. As metaphysical monuments as metaphysical memoirs as metaphysical memorials angoisse at Auschwitz and the thrown Twin Tower atta attack are Events of the Eternal Return of the Sensation as the Truth of Being becoming Alien Being again. As an alteric alien awakening the Twin Tower atta attack beautifully Becomes an attuned awkward Awe attending Aten Amun delivering delectable Dasein dazzlinga s a surprising scintillating Scheu sensation seeping slowly as a wounding-wonderment metaphysical-mood-melting leaking-light severing site silencing sight hearing Heidegger: "But the flash suddenly died out. No one grasped its ray and nearness of what is illuminated. We will not see this lighting flash until we place ourselves in the tempest of Being..." Martin Heidegger, Vorträge und Aufsätze, 1954).

The thrusting thrawling Twin Tower atta attack as a 'metaphysical music' making mimics Mahler's Sixth Symphony slamming taut-twin 'hammer blows' nailing nerves delivering ding Dasein derailed dug-out-of-itself as an Aletheic augen appropriating attuning primordial-pull phenomenon presencing as an Eternal Return of the Primal Sensation severing sight hearing Heidegger:

"...the golden gleam of the lighting's invisible shining cannot be grasped, because it is not itself something grasping. Rather, it is the purely appropriating event. The invisible shining of the lighting streams from the wholesome self-keeping in the self-restraining preservation of destiny." (Martin Heidegger, Aletheia, Early Greek Thinking, New York Harper & Row, 1975).

For Heidegger, Nietzsche, Bacon and Turner the thrown thrilling Twin Tower atta attack is 'Great Art': authentic art in the 'grand style' art in the 'grand manner' as a 'metaphysical mood' as a 'metaphysical monument' showing alien being as a radiating a revealing a rapturing a rupturing a falling a fuming a flickering a showering a shining a shimmering a shivering a shuddering a sparkling: a supreme scintillating transfiguration as an amazing 'metaphysical moment' as the Aten Truth of Alien Being as an Eternal Return arriving as an Aeon Amun apparition again and again and again. The awe-inspiring and tantilising Twin Tower atta attack as a 'metaphysical manoeuvre' was - as Karlheinz Stockhausen added - "the greatest work of art ever." The Twin Tower atta Aten attack attunes assigns an alteric alien awe as an 'enigmatic shudder'. Bacon believed: "Images can shatter the old order leaving nothing the same as before....Great art has always returned people to life more violently. And they appreciate life in a more intense way..."

As Adorno added: "The artwork's enigmaticness is the shudder, not however in its living presence but as recollection....Their apparition, which makes artworks into images, always at the same time destroys them as images...Artworks are archaic in the age in which they are falling silent. But when they no longer speak, their muteness itself speaks." (Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press).

Untitled (Twin Towers) 2002 Mohammed Atta

The Twin Tower Attack is Richard Wagner's "Total Art Work" (Gesamptkunstwerk). For Paul Virilio the Twin Tower Alien Attack is an Alien Act of Total War: "Let us make no mistake about it: with the 11 September 2001 attack, we have before us an act of total war, remarkably conceived and executed, with a minimum of resources. And this demonstrates something we had forgotten: that 'everything in war is very simple, but the simplest thing is difficult' . [Karl von Clausewitz, On War]...On September 11 2001, the Manhattan skyline became the front of the new war. The anonymity of those who initiated the attack merely signals, for everyone, the rise of the global covert state - of the unknown quantity of a private criminality - the 'beyond Good-and-Evil' which has for centuries been the dream of the high priests of an iconoclastic progress." (Paul Virilio, Ground Zero, Verso 2002).

The twinkling Twin Tower atta attack as an attuning Augenblick and as an aturnering Arsonenblick 'emits light' and 'dutifully devotes' itself to 'the shining' as a 'radical revealing' and a 'radiant receiving' relighting an Aten Amun apparition appearance unveiling Unhideness showering-showing so sowing there the thrown 'sensation of the good' and at the same time of the Eternal Return of the Twin Tower atta attack - as a scintillating shining - 'radiates warmth' and by this 'glorious glowing' enables everything that comes-apart come-together 'comes to be' to go forth into visibility of its serene shining sensationing dark duration derailing the senses sending the visible invisible as a metaphysical mirage melting man marvellously as a Moment of Vision a Movement of Vision a Monument of Vision a Muniment of Vision. The Turnering Twin Tower atta attack is indeed the Greatest Work of Art ever made ever unmade unmasking unmaking the hubris 'human condition' which we know now never existed except as an authentic 'alien condition' which has always exited and always will exit as the 'human' exists housed outside of the House of 'alien' Being. The teasing Twin Towers as the tarnished Temples of Mammon housed Human Hubris attuning about Amun's Aten atta attack as an Ereignis Ending where the Event of the Eye becomes the Event of the Gift galvanised outside the House of Language as the Tower of Babel became beheaded by flame fuelling fires transfiguring transforming turning tuning draped ding Dasein drip draught drained dropping down drifting decidedly differently hearing Heraclitus here:

"Fire in its ways of changing - is a sea transfigured - between forks of lightning - and the solid earth - As all things change to fire, - and fire exhausted - falls back into things, - Fire of all things - is the judge and ravisher - How, from a fire - that never sinks - or sets, - would you escape? One thunderbolt strikes - root through everything - Lightning steers all - What was scattered - gathers. What was gathered - blows apart - The way up is the way back - The beginning is the end. - " (Fragments: The Collected Wisdom of Heraclitus, Viking Penguin 2001). Lightning steers all - Sensationing steers all. Shining dark light shafts.

As an amazing and as an attuned primordial-pull engulfing Eventing Ereignis enduring the Eye of the Event eventually exiling 'being-pulled-out-of-itself in-itself' as a migrating mooding movement binding blinding 'being-drawn' down 'into what-is-one's own' as alien again offered over outside the Sight of Vision outside the Site of Vision. Here Heidegger hears an atta attack as a pure propriating: "But the golden gleam of the lighting's invisible shining cannot be grasped, because it is not itself something grasping. Rather, it is the pure propriating [Ereigen]..." (Martin Heidegger, Vortäge und Aufsätze, Pfullingen 1954).

The transfiguring Twin Tower atta attack - as a scintillating shining sensation - is the Essence of Reality as a 'metaphysical moment' pure and simple.

Untitled (Twin Tombs) 1999 Rachel Whiteread

Whiteread and Heidegger intend their wordless worldless Works to be worked upon and waited upon awhile awaiting for those that 'listen' to the sedate 'sensation' of 'silence': the concealed Door of Disclosure - as the Closure of the Opening of an Affirming alien Aletheia - awaits Alien Being to arrive away from Sheltering Sensationism slowly letting leaking light invite in being back Home to the House of our becoming Being Alien again. We will only our arrive at Alien Being through Thrown Silencing. Whiteread's wondering wandering 'House' as a 'setting free of places' is in here Heidegger's 'open region': an 'inside-outside' where 'House' has been 'exited' 'evicted' 'exiled' 'thrown out' and 'made' homeless as a house without a home as an unconcealed concealment sheltering shuddering shuttered sensationism. Sensationing shines upon the scintillating House of Alien Being as the Eternal Return of Beingsensation. We all feel utterly uncannily 'at home' when we are left loitering 'homeless' on the door steps in-front-of outinsideout of our weary Whiteread's hovering homeless 'House' which while waiting has abandoned the site and the sight of its inked-out origin orbiting ending elseother outside on an alien twin tower territory twinkling smoky-starry sky-scraper showering shimmering scintillating shard-shred sliver-silver shining sensationings.

Does dread 'House' hold the 'Truth of Being Alien' of alien being as an affirming being alien? No: 'House' is not a home as 'House' is not a 'home coming' to a 'home front' of our 'home improvements' as housing 'home truths' throwing an alien being but bread as a dormant Derelict 'House' of the Becoming of the Eternal Return of Alien Being breeding life after death as death after life as a draining since as a sensationing shining 'House' holds the Key to the Door of the Truth of the Eternal Return where we eternally lock and unlock unlock and lock the Valves of Sensationing sowing which where vent the Thrown Event of the Eternal Return as an enter-exist-exist-enter-enter-exist-exit left locked in-as-out-out-as-in-out of the Body of the House of the Eternal Return. Returning to the Eternal: the Thrown Eternal Return is not a 'Vicious Circle' but a 'Spiralling Sensataioning' Schein as an affirming frothing fort-da-fluxing as a throwing-retrieving of sensation-as-time imploding in-out-of-itself. Heidegger throws Freud's 'fort-da-flux' as: "the eternal flux of all things" where time is at a 'stand-still' for throwing traps time in between time all the time: 'doing-dice' as a dominion over being-as-a-whole by being-as-a-hole through throwing through the Eternal Return by by-passing so-called 'space' for the mistake of philosophy is to link 'time' together with 'space' since there is no 'space' just as there on no 'psychic space' only the eternal return of a 'psychic place' at the 'local level' of our leaking sensationing seeping sleeping psychies.

Bacon and Nietzsche lived as an attuned-entrapped Eternal Return throwing to and frow as to and throw as as Throwness formed from foamy fluxing fort-da-frothing as a rehearsal of the Eternal Return as a doing deathed by doing time differently. By being Thrown as the Eternal Return of the Sensation Bacon and Nietzsche were always already bred by 'brute animal instinct' Becoming 'alien animals' - forgetting 'being-human' forgetting 'being-intellect'.

For Francis Bacon and Friedrich Nietzsche the Eternal Return cannot be Known only Thrown only Sown as a sensationing Shein since - as a pure pushed prodded repetition reviving revamping reinvention of oozing spiralling Sensationing - the Thrown Eternal Return cannot be Caught cannot be Thought only Oozed out as an Affirmation Becominingsensationingagainandagainandagainandagainadinfinitum as an alien atta Aten showering shining shimmering shaftings. The doctrine of the Eternal return of the Sensation contains an alien assertion concerning alien beings as a totality of sensationing: alien beings have their essence in Sensations: we cannot 'think through' the doctrine of the Eternal Return only 'sow sensation' of the doctrine of the Eternal Return.

Francis Bacon at his Claude Bernard Gallery exhibition in Paris 1977

An 'Institute of Contemporary Art' cannot exist because art is always already primordially-post the 'no-now'. 'Contemporary Art' does not exist because - by 'its' very desire to be consciously 'contemporary' is destined to be 'past' it: to become non-contemporary for it seeks the present of the no-now: that is: - being 'up-to-date' it has always already past its 'sell-by-date'. While Turner being 'non-contemporary' is always already rooted in the perpetual present because Turner by-passes time all the time being out-of-time in-time all the time. In radical authentic alien art there is no time for 'contemporary art' because there is no time like the 'present' which gives it its radical presence precisely because it lives outside the no-now. An atta authentic alien art freeze frames time out of time all the time inverting-imploding time outside the 'no-time' of the 'contemporary' no-now all the time, all the time. An authentic atta angoisse archaic alien arcadia art - having no 'concepts' - having 'no time' to be 'in time' all the time - cannot conceive of a 'commonsense contemporary' time oiling only operating ooze: drip drop drip drop drip drip drop drip drop down drown defying the tide of off time all the time trickling tickling tricking time so 'standing the test of time' out-of-time all the time as the sensation of time being thrown out-itself all the time out of time of the 'contemporary' no-now.

An Authentic Alien Aten atta art always already comes too early comes too late and never arrives or departs on time in time all the time. What you both boringly call 'contemporary art' is inauthentic 'advertising art' ('spiv-Saatchi-shit') which is media-made for the non-now and has no memory of the past, has no memory of the future: it operates only in the non-presence of the no-now which never is. Saatchi's spin-shit 'advertising art' is a political product of our crass commonsense 'contemporary culture': Adorno again: "Culture, which today has assumed the character of advertising, was never anything for Veblen but advertising, a display of power, loot and profit." (Theodor Adorno, Prisms, The MIT Press, 1984). There is no 'contemporary art': there is no 'now'.

An authentic Alien Aten atta art does not ooze operate via the commonsense clock-time of the 'contemporary' clock of the no-now that is not present because authentic-alien-art is at the wrong place at the wrong time all the time out-of-time all the time and only comes to being in-time too late: authentic-time is the cradle and critic of authentic art where, in-time, art either' floats' or 'fails': authentic non-clock time is the only ooze real register of the truth of the being of alien art out-of-time all the time in-time. Time tells us unreservedly: Monet 'floats', Pollock 'sinks' (because only authentic-alien) time (as materialised-alien-being in-itself) tells. As Bacon stated to Sylvester: "Because time is the only great critic." And not the now no-time of our sick slaved Serota-Saatchi syndrome: so stuck-staid stayed 'in-time' and 'on-time' fearing and forgetting future 'out-time' all the time.

Or as Adorno stated:

"Authentic art of the past that for the time being must remain veiled is not thereby sentenced. Great works wait...The art work in itself is not, as historicism would have it - as if its history accords simply with its position in real history - Being absolved from Becoming. Rather, as something that exists, the artwork has its own development. What appears in the artwork is its own inner time; the explosion of appearance blasts open the continuity of this inner temporality. The artwork is mediated to real history by its monadological nucleus. History is the content of art works" (Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, 1997).

As 'doing-time' agnoisse alien atta art works wait a awhile taking time to leak light letting sensation slowly spill sparingly sparklingly shiningly shimmering. and always already alienated 'in time' all the time. Aesthetic alienation (as the cracked condition of becoming alien art) is to experience excess and an access ego-emptying: a split being born between spectator-subject and an oozed object where 'subjectivity' becomes a purified pulp objectivity obliterating being human to becoming an alien animal again and again away always already as it were when we were young and alien before becoming boringly hideously human.

Can there be a cuntox 'Conceptual Art'? No: the 'politically correct' crass construction of 'Conceptual Art' is an aged oxymoron moronic ox. Art has no 'Concepts' - Art is contra 'Concepts'. Art negates 'Concepts'. 'Concepts' are for Cunts. The 'conceptual' is 'contemporary' and the 'contemporary' is the impossibility of the now that never exists, never existed but 'contemporary conceptual art' being a puerile product of contemporary political correctness has to appear to be 'in' and 'up-to-date' which is its dull drek datedness because it is nailed by its desire for nowness. An authentic alien aesthetics as subconscious stuff is instead counter-come-contra 'consciously conceptual'. Adorno again: "Aesthetic images are no more translatable into concepts than they are 'real'; there is no imago without the imaginary; their reality is their historical content, and the images themselves, including the historical images, are not to be hypostatized. Aesthetic alienual images are not fixed, archaic invariants: Artworks become images in that the processes that have congealed in them as objectivity become eloquent...The non existing in artworks is a constellation of the existing...Aesthetic experience is that of something that spirit may find neither in the world nor in itself; it is possibility promised by its impossibility. Art is the ever broken promise of happiness." (Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press, 1997). As 'there is (no) time like the present' so (always already) there is no 'contemporary art' - there can never be a 'contemporary art' because authentic alien art is (not) 'in time' all the time out-of-time not now never present.

'Art' is Unconscious. 'Conceptual' is Conscious. 'Conceptual Art' (like 'HIV') is a puerile construction of political correctness both being boring media manipulated political programmes. 'Conceptual Art' and 'HIV' do no exist: they are 'contemporary constructs' of 'political correctness' of the 'no-now' that never was. Daring Dasein's shared ways of sensationing - as non-conceptual - cannot be grasped through thinking or logic: Dasein makes 'sense of being' by sensationing being by being sensation in and out-of itself. An authentic alien atta art resists and negates the 'consciousness' of 'conceptual': art alien is alien to 'conceptual consciousness'. Heidegger and Bacon both operate ooze outside conscious concepts: both Bacon and Heidegger do not use concepts but images that threow thinking as listening patience waiting when things come out on their own ordered oozing: Baconian and Heideggerian embodied radical unthinking (being blown outside the brain) operates outside commonsense concepts: radical unthinking and radical painting is not a product of the brain but the body. Both Bacon and Heidegger subconsciously unthink from the body by passing the conceptual: radical unthinking begins with the forgetting and negating of the concept. By ab-using paint and words as multiple movements both Bacon and Heidegger unconceal the thin concealment of off closed concepts cracking open being born free from formula form from conscious commonsense concepts which were well covering closing coating canning being bled bare before afterwards always already. Bacon and Heidegger as abject image inventors collapse concepts to there their nothing no-thing-ness nevernesses. For Bacon and Heidegger and Nietzsche concepts collapse like levelling twin towers ashes to ashes dust to dust nothing to nothing.

J.M. Bernstein argues art spills its surplus subconscious slurp stuff oozed outside contained conscious thought: "Art works are impossible objects: if aesthetic praxis were really transformative, then art works would be (practically and cognitively) 'true', that is, art objects would be worldly objects, not meaningless but meaningful, not purposeless but purposeful ...Their purposelessness is their form of resistance to exchange - a form that is harassed and subject to defeat. Their nonconceptual form is their form of resistance to identity thinking - a form that is harassed by the desire for meaning...The autonomy of art is the plus, the surplus, the excess, the non-identical which allows identity thinking to continue unharassed. Art is the remainder...." (J.M. Bernstein, The Fate of Art: Aesthetic Alienation from Kant to Derrida and Adorno, Polity Press, 1992).

Can there be an 'Abstract Art'? No: art is image not abstract: art arrests, attacks alters specific sensation of the initiated image. From Cave Image Making to Henri Michaux, man and alien attempt to nail the animal-image not the no-thing: why is there the image rather than the nothing? An 'abstract art' does not exist. Thrown Totalitarian 'Abstraction' as an 'Americanism' is grounded in groundlessness of a future fascism in an 'unessence'. American 'Abstract Art' (as eggoless) epitomises the thrown essencelessness of its imagelessness of its historylessness of its memorylessness of its Fascism sows spiritlessness of its bodylessness: American 'Abstraction' (is the) annihilation of alien art: anal 'american abstraction' (is the) annihilation of our alien angoisse acidic (atta art). Only oily an angoisse acidic authentic atta alien art attack can save us from the annihilation of an analised 'american abstractionism' and an approaching American Fascism again and again after all always. Alien atta art attacks American Fascism force forever. An 'Abstract Art' (an 'American') does not exist. 'Conceptual Art' does not exist: authentic alien art is instead always already now non conceptual non identical non abstract non 'American'. 'Contemporary Art' does not exist in 'time' only on 'time' outside oozed authentic alien-time: an authentic alien atta art operates outside (the) no-now: authentic alien are predates-postdates the thrown no-now-time - out-of-time all the time." What was called 'abstract art' was always already just dreary decoration.

Can there be a contemporary 'political' poetics? No. Can (an authentic alien) art be 'political'? No. Only inauthentic ('contemporary') 'art' can be 'political' because - 'being-in-time' - it is always already sutured and saturated as 'politically correct' (contemporary consciousness: reactionary reactive regressive) operating outside an alien ab-aesthetics (which is outside-time all the time no 'beingt-in-time'). For Heidegger and Bacon art and poetry can never be 'political' because primordially preserved art and poetry can never be 'contemporary' (being-in-time as being-on-time): art and poetry simply do not 'have-the-time' to be 'political' for politics is the product of the evil of banality of the idiotic the they who only live in the no-now and only live 'consciously' in the illusion of the 'contemporary' which can never exist: 'politics' does not exist for alien being: as Heidegger and Bacon 'knew': politics is a product of the 'human being' not the 'alien being' who does not know of the time of politics or have the time for politics. Hence Heidegger and Bacon were not 'political' or 'apolitical' (the same-difference) but abpolitical. Can 'art' be 'political'? No never: 'art' is actual - 'politics' is analual: 'Art' is the sensation of 'The Good' whereas 'Politics' is the sign of 'The Bad': 'Art' is 'True' - 'Politics' is 'Lie': 'Art' is 'Will to Truth' whereas 'Politics' is 'Will to Lie'. We all know that 'art' is 'the truth' that makes us realize the lie of politics. 'Art' is radical - 'Politics' is reactionary: fascism, socialism, communism, conservatism, liberalism, anarchism, nihilism are all exactly-entirely the senile-same: the sick 'same-difference' - as analised totalities of reaction, retardation, regression, resentment. The extreme-far right and the extreme-far left - as puerile politics of retardation, regression, reaction and resentment - are exactly the same psychically: they deeply despise the working class: capitalism and communism want to control the working class from getting out of control. Politics as a putrid product of the They is alien to 'art' as 'politics' is alien to 'life' and 'sensation': 'politics' does not have 'the shine': 'politicians' do not have 'the shine' but 'the shite': all 'politicians' should be taken out as they are all arsehole-liars: life-negators life-haters life-bullshitters and art-haters! Politics is Lie. Art is True.

Can there be a 'contemporary philosophy'? No: 'philosophy' - pure and simple - does not have the present time at hand available to do philosophy but can only throw thought future-past: an alien philosophy as thrown by the Eternal Return of the Sensation is not available to the They in the no-now: Steiner, Scruton, et al do not know the time of philosophy so cannot do philosophy cannot shine philosophy cannot sensation the thrown unthought of philosophy for the time of the philosopher - purely and simply - cannot be 'contemporary'. As Heidegger has it: "It is also the case that the philosopher must cease to be a contemporary to himself. The most essential and revolutionary a philosophical doctrine is, the more it needs to educate those men and women, those generations, who are to adopt it." (Martin Heidegger, The Genesis of the Doctrine of Return, Nietzsche by Martin Heidegger, Harper Collins, 1984).

Philosophy is not a product of the 'intellect' or of thinking but sensationing: the inane and insane 'intellect' is always already lingering lagging behind the leaking arse of instinct: the 'intellectual' does not exist: one cannot be 'one hundred per cent intellectual' since one would become a boxed in brain seated on a satin pillow unable to piss and one could no longer be able to shit spunk sensation: for Foucault the 'intellectual' does not exist: "The word intellectual strikes me as odd. Personally, I've never met any intellectuals. I've met people who write novels, others who treat the sick; people who work in economics and others who compose electronic music....But intellectuals? Never. On the other hand, I've met a lot people who talk about the intellectual'...I don't find that intellectuals talk too much, since for me they don't exist." (Michel Foucault, Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth, Volume One, Allene Lane, The Penguin Press, 1997). The radical philosopher forgets thinking to forge sensationing for the radical philosopher is not an intellectual and but an instinctual initiator opening out the vivacious voluptuous valves of sensation. The 'intellectual' is the one who sows-up sutures-in one's own anally retentive arsehole whole never spunking never shitting never sensationing: fearing 'instincts' fearing 'emotions' fearing 'feelings' fearing 'fartings' fearing 'smellings' fearing 'sensationings' such as soiling ontological-oozings, drip-droolings, sliver-spunkings. Heidegger was a silent sensationer speaking sensation severing the 'intellect' for intelligence is not a property of philosophy not a product of the philosopher. The so-called 'intellectual' as a 'failed philosopher' is the parasite of philosophy the resenter of philosophy and thus the despiser of the 'instinctor'. The real 'philosopher' is antithetical and anterior to the 'intellectual' for the 'intellect' is not a property of philosophy not a product of thought but moronic mimesis. The philosopher does not have an 'intellect' for the philosopher has an 'instinctellect' sniffing out of sensationing. Nietzsche stated: "What is philosopher is, is hard to learn, because it cannot be taught: one has to 'know' it from experience..." (Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good And Evil, 1886). Philosophy and Art cannot be taught and everyone knows that Philosophy and Art cannot be taught but the 'dumbing down' of 'political correctness' pretends otherwise promoting the ludicrous liberal lie that: 'everyone can do it'. Our contemporary cunt critic commentators tend to nominate Nietzsche as a 'postmodernist' but Nietzsche was nothing of the kind: Nietzsche (and Bacon) would have found 'equal opportunities' and 'political correctness' utterly repugnant for their morons mandate of 'dumbing down' of our cretin culture into the dismal depths of 'slave morality' and 'herd mentality' where retards rule where spastics sell in our artless age of autistic aesthetics and puerile politics: 'passive nihilism'.

Philosophy and Thinking are absolutely alien to 'intellect' and 'intelligence' and also absolutely alien to 'intellectuals' who are anal resenters of the open anus and are always as tight as arseholes and hate having to wipe their behinds and also fear floods of oozing semen spurting all over their smelless skin: they always have a handkerchief ready to mop up the mess. The anally-retentive 'intellectual' - as a despiser of the dispensing body - is too mean too tight to give a turd away counting coins like lucre shilling shits. The philosopher instinctually knows the 'intellect' and the 'intellectual' are shitless: are shit without shittings are shit without smellings are shit without sensationings: as sutured arseholes the 'intellect' and the 'intellectual' do not exist. Intuitive instinctualists: Nietzsche, Heidegger, Foucault, Turner, Bacon were all alien to the 'intellect' and 'intellectual'. Nietzsche knew: "Once upon a time, in a faraway corner of the universe, poured out and glistening in infinite solar systems, there was a constellation on which clever animals invented knowledge. It was the most arrogant and devious minute of 'world history': but still only a minute. After just a few breaths that nature took, the constellation froze, and the clever animals had to die. Someone could invent a fable of that sort and still not illustrate adequately how wretched, how shadowy and volatile, how purposeless and random human intellect appears within nature." (Friedrich Nietzsche, On Truth and Falsehood in an Extramoral Sense, 1872). Also after braving a lightning hail storm, the young Nietzsche sensationed in a letter: "How happy, how powerful they are, pure will, untarnished by intellect!" The insane 'intellectual' is the enemy of the sensatual the instinctual. 'Intellect' and 'Intelligence' are alien to Artists as Sacon stated to Beard: "I've known some incredibly intelligent people who have wanted to be artists and they've never been able to do it. Intelligence doesn't necessarily work in art. It is rather extraordinary in Churchill's case that although he was brilliant there wasn't one iota of it in his work as a painter." (Francis Bacon: Remarks from an Interview with Peter Beard - Francis Bacon: Recent Paintings, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 1975). Bacon stated similar to Archimbaud: "...intelligence has never made art, never made a painting...unfortunately." (Francis Bacon: In conversation with Michel Archibaud, Phaidon Press, 1993). Peppiatt peppers "Bacon later complained, perversely enough, that he had nobody he could 'really talk to'. In almost the same breath, he also claimed that he did not really care for intellectuals at all - however much he was seen lunching and dining with the writers who were committed to his work." ( Michael Peppiatt, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Westview Press, 1996). The 'Intellectual' - 'Intellect' - 'Intelligence' - are always already alien to Art and Philosophy - are always already alien to being an Artist to being a Philosopher. The 'Intellectual' - 'Intellect' - 'Intelligence' - are Anal-yst Ideology of 'Conceptual Art'. The 'Intellectual' - who does not exist - anal-yses 'Conceptual Art' - which does not exist: the nothing anal-ysing the nothing. The 'Intellectual' as a 'know all' is out-of-sync out-of-joint out-of-tune out-of-time with the Philosopher-Artist who 'knows nothing' - who has no 'Intellect' - only an 'Instinct' and who does not have-the-time to have an 'intellect' for the Philosopher-Artist is always already outside the commonsense continuum of conceptual time all-the-time. For Dr. William Plank, Professor of French, Montana State University, the conservative 'intellect' interprets 'time' conceptually as a continuum of closure:

"Time as product of the intellect. For Nietzsche then, what I will call herd-man time is entirely a product of the interpretation of the intellect reflecting the 'body's attempt to resist the destructive effects of the outer world' (Moles p. 224). Because we experience time as succession resulting in ultimate death, we try to 'play for time' (224). The intellect is thus pictured as a conservative force which filters out what is new in an attempt to provide a safe environment in the stability of a standardized and sanitized past, without the threat of the new. The intellect apparently does not want to 'live dangerously.' The intellect as memory, by comparing the present state with the past states, concludes that time is a continuum, and that beneath our experience of the succession of time is 'a world of enduring and self-identical substances in causal interaction' (Moles p. 225). The intellect, it appears, has Platonist tendencies. Our time perception is thus related to our illusion of linear causality discussed earlier. Thus, our perceptions about the nature of time as a succession of events is not an accurate understanding of the reality of time in the external world, but is only an expression of our need to survive and of the nature of our perceptual apparatus (v. Moles, p. 226). The organism, because of its needs, has perceptual organs which express the structure of its needs and have little to do with the temporal reality of the world... We have arrived pragmatically at a functional and cultural conception of time by an ancient intersubjective consensus and standardization which allow us to operate and survive (v. Moles, p. 230, ff.). Nevertheless, as we evolve as organisms and our environment changes, it is possible that our conception of time will change as well. Thus, even if time as we know it is only a culturally standardized intellectual interpretation, changing times and enlightenment may allow us to come closer to understanding time as flux. Perhaps that is what Nietzsche hoped from the "new philosophers," whom we might with some trepidation call post-Nietzscheans, evolutionists, and quantum mechanists..." (Dr. William Plank, The Quantum Nietzsche).

The 'intellectual' wishes his willy would go away and his botty would wipe itself. The 'intellectual' is always photographed head-and-shoulders with fingers-to-forehead fingers to-chin as if acting-at-thinking: the 'intellectual' is never photographed with fingers-to-penis fingers-to-anus for the 'intellectual' never thinks from his willy never thinks from his botty never writes from his penis never writes from his anus. As anally-retentive anal-ysts 'intellectuals' - and those that want to be one hundred per cent 'intellect' - have such a sad-subconscious-sewer fucked-up-fear self-hate and a disgust-loathing of: instinct-desire-body-boredom-anxiety-mooding-truthing-touching-forgetting-emotioning-feeling-wanking-fucking-spunking-shitting: that is sensationing: the shitting of Being spunked-out-of-the-world all over the place out of joint out of sync out of time with the no-now: that is: the Truth of Sensationing. For the ingrown 'intellectual' has 'no sensation' has 'no truth' retardedly repeating that crass cliché: 'there is no truth' - like that other anal-yst anal-absurdity: 'there is no author'. The 'intellectual' is always already impotent and cannot initiate ink - shoot spunk - proliferate philosophy - for the 'intellectual' is always soft and cannot get hard and cannot get off so becomes bunged up with gallons of gooey spunk slime harbouring hate. Nietzsche knew:" "Be on your guard also against the intellectuals! They hate you, because they are unproductive! They have cold, withered eyes before which every bird is unplumed. Such persons brag about not lying: but inability to lie is still far from being love of truth. Be on your guard!" (Friedrich Nietzsche, The Higher Man, Thus Spake Zarathustra, 1892). The idiotic impotent 'intellectual' is always a cunt-cross between a magpie and a parrot: collecting - consuming - parroting prattle - prick pussy.

The 'postmodernist' ('politically-correct') inane 'intellectual' is the mediocre moronic man of our cunt contemporary culture of 'salve morality' and 'passive nihilism' as Nietzsche knew only too well: "The mediocre alone have the prospect of continuing on and propagating themselves - they are the men of the future, the sole survivors; 'be like them! become mediocre!' is henceforth the only morality that has any meaning left, that still finds ears to hear it." (Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil, 1886). In the democratic 'dumbing down' of our cuntish 'contemporary culture' we are expected not just to accept the mediocre but positively to demand mediocrity! Trash TV's regressive retradorama dumbed-down 'Big Brother' - 'the survival of the thickest' - (like Beck's Futures and The Turner Prize) - is a microcosm of our moronic mediocre cretin culture. The Liberal Fascism of Equal Opportunities - 'any one can do it' - as the manufacture of the mediocre - makes media manipulated moronic trite trailer trash tripe such as the Posh Spice and Tracey Emin epitaphs: 'I am mediocre therefore I am' - 'I am a moron therefore I am' - 'I do not think therefore I am' - 'I do not think therefore I am thick'.

Moronic media-mediocre-manipulator servile Serota serves senile shit Saatchi seven soggy straws sipping slurping sucking swallowing tripe trite Tracey's trailer trash tiny tot test tube toilet tray tart turds dutifully drinking down drooling dripping delinquent diahoerrea droppings inanely insanely intellectualising inane inanities about autistic arsethetic antics and anally asserting an arsehole assets as anus artshole arsets suddenly simultaneously shooting spastic spunk shards together targeting truant trick trull toffer Tracey's tawdry tarnished tired taut timpano tits trickling twinkling ticklish tears titillation tarnished tachism tissue tacky twit twat twitching trough lolloping leaking lemonade loitering lolly loin liquid lice lava laced lather leftovers.

The 'intellectual' is merely a parasite of philosophy a parasite off philosophy who collects thousands of books on philosophy but has no philosophy of his own: the anal-yst 'intellectual' obfuscates saying: 'there can no longer be philosophy' or 'there can no longer be a philosopher': all 'intellectuals' are covert Christian Humanists ('deniers of the body') - 'intellectuals' want to be 100 per cent 'intellectual' which is a sign of sickness for it is a negation of sensation which is the truth of being. The 'intellectual' has no truth for the 'intellectual' has no body - no penis - no anus - no spunk - no shit - no sensation: the 'intellectual' is pathologically insane in believing in his beheaded madness and existence without a body: the 'intellectual' and the 'intellect' do not exist!

Forget Intellect Forge Instinct: Start sowing subterranean Zeus Sensationing froth forth fuelling the thrown 'lightning flash' heating Heraclitus' House at Athena's Attic leaking luminous loft light left open oozing out the Truth of Being Alien outside the House of Language towards the Truth of Sensation.

David Farrell Krell stated stupidly: "Heidegger's active collaboration with the Nazi party had lasted ten months (from May 1933 to January 1934); a period of passive support and waxing disillusionment followed. His early enthusiastic support of the regime has earned him the virulent enmity of many. The fact that he remained silent after the war about the atrocities committed against the Jews and other peoples in Europe, while at the same time bemoaning the fate of his divided fatherland, has understandably shocked and confused everyone, even those who freely affirm the greatness of his thought. That his early engagement in the Nazi cause was a monstrous error all concede; that his silence is profoundly disturbing all agree; whether that error and that silence sprang from basic and perdurant tendencies of his thought remains a matter of bitter debate." (Basic Writings: Martin Heidegger, David Farrell Krell, Routledge, 1993).

Who are these 'all'? Who are these alleged 'all' who 'all concede' and 'all agree'? It was not an 'error' for Heidegger to join the Nazi party but a rational and radical 'thing to do' - as a 'thrown-event' - 'at the time' as a pathway of Heidegger's projectedness: Heidegger was not 'silent' but 'sensatioinng' taking thinking through throwness beyond behind behead of out-itself: Heidegger's (so-called) 'silence' cannot be spoken only sensationed: Heidegger sensations much more about an holocaust - (for there are many holocausts thrown in history) - than any other thinker thrown through thrown time. So smell Heidegger's so-called 'silence' is the thrown thrusted sensation of orbiting smouldering 'smoke' souls seeking seeping skies absenting at over 'Auschwitz': for fragrant hoovering Heidegger 'smoke' spoke silence so such 'silence' cannot call breathe or be spoken only smoken as a sensation of outed severed silences. Heidegger's so-called 'silence' is only audibly available to alien ears that can 'listen' to the 'deafening' sensation of 'silence' at Auschwitz as ashes arise as silencing smoking sensationism so 'silence' smokes sending home Heidegger's so-called 'silence' sent Unconcealed undone housing homelessness. Here hear Heidegger's so-called 'silence' as a pure poetic Primordial Mood mourning mist memorial messaging. Here hear holocaust bled by Blanchot:

"The unknown name, alien to to naming: The holocaust, the absolute event of history - which is a date in history - that utter-burn where all history took fire, where the movement of Meaning was swallowed up, where the gift, which knows nothing of forgiving or of consent, shattered without giving place to anything that can be affirmed, that can be denied - gift of very passivity, gift of what cannot be given. How can it be preserved, even by thought? How can thought be made the keeper of the holocaust where all was lost, including guardian thought? In the mortal intensity, the fleeing silence of the countless cry." (Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1986).

Lacouse-Labarthe, Farrell Krell, Steiner and Farias failed to hear Heidegger's sacred sensation of orbiting 'silence' smoking smazeing smouldering shimmering spiralling adrift alien ashes at Auschwitz. Adorno 'hears' Herr Heidegger's 'silence' as sensationed thrown through Paul Celan's 'silences': "Celan's poems want to speak of the most extreme horror through silence. Their truth content itself becomes negative. They imitate a language beneath the helpless language of human beings, indeed beneath all organic language: It is that of the dead speaking of stones and stars. The last rudiments of the organic are liquidated...The language of the lifeless becomes the last possible comfort for a death that is deprived of all meaning." (Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, The Athlone Press 1997). Hear Heidegger's smoking silence breathed by Blanchot burying Bataille: "Everything we say tends to veil the one affirmation: that everything must fade and that we can remain loyal only so long as we watch over this fading movement, to which something in us that rejects all memory already belongs...We should not, by any means of artifice, pretend to carry on a dialogue. What has turned away from us also turns us away from that part which was our presence, and we must learn that when speech subsides, a speech that for years gave itself to an 'exigency without regard,' it is not only this exigent speech that has ceased, it is the silence that it made possible and from which it returned along an insensible slope toward the anxiety of time." (Maurice Blanchot, Friendship, written on the occasion of the death of Georges Bataille). For Blanchot and Heidegger only a 'radical silence' can 'sensation' the silence of the 'silenced' since sentences and sayings cannot sensation the silence of the silenced: Heidegger hears the sensation of silence. But Blanchot writing on Heidegger's so-called 'silence' breaks with 'the gift of writing' predicated as 'a radical silence': "What was unthinkable and unforgivable in the event of Auschwitz, this utter void in our history, is met with Heidegger’s determined silence." (Maurice Blanchot, Thinking the Apocalypse: A Letter from Maurice Blanchot to Catherine David, Critical Inquiry Winter, 1989). But brave Blanchot misses the magical moment of Heidegger's smoking 'silence'. But beaming Bataille hears Heidegger's sensationing silence: "Yet this silence and darkness prepare the crackled and tremulous gleams of fresh storms...The writer's task is to have silence or a turbulent sovereignty as the only other choice." (Georges Bataille, Sovereignty and the impossible). Heiddeger on the utterance as activated silence: "For what is held in silence is genuinely preserved; as preserved it is most intimate and actual...Supremely thoughtful utterence does not consist in simply in growing taciturn when it is a matter of saying what is properly to be said; it consists in saying the matter in such away that it is named in non-saying. The utterance of thinking is an active silence. Such utterance corresponds to the most profound essence of language, which has its origins in silence." (Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche Lectures, 1937). Here hear Heidegger's 'final word' is the 'final solution' to sowing the sensation of silence as a throwness of thinking out-of-itself: "It may be that the path of thinking has today reached the point where silence is requited to preserve thinking from being jammed up." (Martin Heidegger, Interview, Der Spiegel, 1976).

Pierre Klossowski carefully smokes out the various valves of sensationing silencing hearing Heidegger's hovering hoovering Hölderlin's: "Because it was a 'jubilant dissolution', Nietzsche's euphoria could not last as long as Hölderlin's contemplative alienation. Hölderlin's desolation elevated him to a high place of peace and forgetfullness where he was constantly visited by silent images, with which he could dialogue in the same simple, calm and melodious language. The silence of Hölderlin's poems of 'madness' has nothing in common with with Nietzsche's menacing silence, the price of the historic explosion at Turin." (Pierre Klossowski, The Euphoria of Turin, Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle, Athlone London 1997). Karl Kraus sensations silence: "Those who have nothing to say because it is the turn of deeds to speak, talk on. Let him who has something to say step forward and be silent." For Lao Tzu sowing speech seeps silence sensationing: "Much speech leads inevitably to silence. Better to hold fast to the void." (Lao Tzu, The Tao te Ching). Dante Alighieri sensations silence as a divine deed: "A fair request should be followed by the deed in silence." (Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy). Shining is the thrown sensation of silencing as Irigaray airs: "Listen: nothing. The sound of silence. The rustle of air in the silence. The music of air touching itself - silently." (Luce Irigaray, Elemental Passions, The Athlone Press, London, 1992). We need to touch Heidegger's 'silence' - to taste Heidegger's 'silence' - to smell Heidegger's 'silence' - that is - to sensation Heidegger's 'silence' in order to hear his silencesensationing of 'an holocaust'. Herr Heidegger sensationed: "Man speaks by being silent." (Martin Heidegger, What Is Called Thinking?). Silence speaks the sensation of man the essence of man the truth of man the metaphysics of man. Silence cannot be Thought: silence can only be Sensationed.

Death sensations in sensationing as a silencing: a Becoming silent where even 'silence' is silenced as a pure serene sensation of being out-of-the-world.

Activating Alien (Becoming Being) arrives after an alien be being: Become Time initiated in the time thrown through delivering Death as a Beingalientime.

Heidegger hears-smells minced-mixed smoke-signals in the silencing of the human animal as the silencing of the alien animal as an attuned raw radical same-difference: "Agriculture is now a mechanised food industry, in essence the same as the manufacture of corpses in the gas chamber and extermination camps." (Martin Heidegger, Bremen Lectures, 1949). Richard Wolin woollily termed this "tasteless" but it was tasteful: the taste of the human animal and alien animal becoming the same difference when smoked as a sensation of fumes consuming flesh of consumers consuming flesh: here Heidegger makes no critical distinction between the 'human animal' and the 'alien animal' because before language lingered there is no critical difference: we are all always already alien animals: 'human beings' do not exist: pure and simple. Mechanised meat manufacture at Auschwitz was merely the manufacture of other animals as the pure 'logic' of capitalist mass production. Adorno added after Auschitz: "Genocide is the absolute integration. It is on its way wherever men are being levelled off - polished-off...until one exterminates them." (Thodor Adorno, Negative Dialectics, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp Verlag 1970).

Blanchot breathes: "Can one say: horror reigns at Auschwitz, senselessness in the Gulag? Horror, because extermination in every form is the immediate horizon. Zombies, pariahs, infidels: such is the truth of life." (Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster, University of Nebraska Press,1995). Bacon beefs being as always already an animal: "Flesh and meat are life! If I paint red meat as I paint bodies it is just because I find it very beautiful. I don’t think anyone has ever really understood that. Ham, pigs, tongues, sides of beef seen in the butcher’s window, all that death, I find it very beautiful. And it’s all for sale—how unbelievably surrealistic! I often imagine that the accident that made man into the animal he has become also happened to other animals—lions or hyenas for example—while man remained a primate...I imagine men hanging in butcher’s shops for hyenas, who would be dressed in fur coats. The men would be hung by their feet, or cut up for stew or kebabs. We are all meat. All the inhabitants of this planet are made of meat. And most of them are carnivores. And when you fuck, it's a piece of meat penetrating another piece of meat. There is no difference between our meat and the meat of an ox or an elephant." (Francis Bacon, Exclusive interview with Francis Giacobetti, 1991-2, The Art Newspaper, June 2003).

What is Being? What is Alien? There can be no Thought, no Theory, of Being, of Alien as Alien and Being are Thrown before beyond Thinking by the Nothing. Being is alien to Thinking as Alien is being to Thinking. Being is Unnameable as Being is Alien. Alien is the No-name of Being out-the-world. Being and Alien are not Names and Promise Nothing (but) Project Shining: there is Nothing before the Name but only Sensation before the Name only Being before the name as the Alien of Sensationbeing as Beingsensation as alien to the name as alien to the word as alien to the world: the name nails so sparkling sensation spills off out leaking out over lost language as an apparition alluring alien awe aura so sown Sensation shines Being as Alien as alien as being as an abjected apparition awaiting appearance again afterwards. So sowing such as question: 'What is the Meaning of Benig?' becomes meaningless for Being is de-void of Meaning. You cannot ask: 'What does Being mean?' Being does not 'mean'. Sein Shines. Being is Shining not 'meaning'. Time lets-leak Sein Sensationing as a Shining. The question should sow: 'What is the Sensation of Being?' Since Being is a product of Sensationing and not Thinking. But what is the Sensation of Time? What is the shape of time? What is the smell of time? What is the sight of time? What is the psyche of time? What is the touch of time? What is the taste of time? What is the Task of Time? To Take Care of Death. For Death Takes Care of Time. Death Takes Care of Being as Time.

Absolute Knowledge answers as the thrown shining Sensation of Time as Being. Absolute Knowledge is the Totality of Sensations of Being Time. But what is the Time Being of the Totality of Sensations of Absolute Knowledge? Absolute Knowledge is the Totality of Sensations of Being Time. If the Sensation of Knowledge is Time, what is the Sensation of Being? The Sensation of Being is Anxiety. The Sensation of Time is Boredom. The Sensation of Beingtime is The Nothing. Anxiety and Boredom open out us up to The Nothing.

What is Nothing? Why is there Nothing rather than Something? The Nothing is alien being - pure and simple - as pure sensation - originating before the senses begin Becoming sensation. The Nothing cannot be Thought only Sensationed. The Nothing names nothing for Nothing is not a name of a Something: alien being is the no-name of the no-nothing: alien anxiety makes manifest the thrown no-nothing: the nothing out-itself sensations through the Sensation of the Nothing of angoisse anxiety as the Original openness of alien being as such arises arrived as an alien being of the thrown no-thing: Beingaliennothing: Alien Being is the Pure Sensation of The Nothing.

So see: as The Nothing - Being and Alien are not Names but sown Sensations thrown out-of-being-thrown-out-of-the-world as sutured signs of the Angoisse Divine of the Abject Sublime as shuddered and shone in Bacon's Portraits and Self-Portraits and Jawlensky's Abstract Heads and Meditations: memorial melting melancholia mourning mist seeping soaked smoked sensation as an angoisse alluring alien apocalyptic apparition. The thinkingless atta alien artist through thrown forged forgetting anamnesis amnesia has to draw the nothing into the question of being by nailing the Nothing itself out-itself without using the subconscious seventh sense suturing Sensation outside-in as an Eternal Return of Stimmung Sensationism.

What is Death? The Death is Becoming alien sensation again afterwards. For Heidegger Death is not Absolutely Final Death is not the Final Solution and Answer to Being but a possibility of a Becoming alien again out-of-the-world. For Heidegger Death: "leaves the question of afterlife entirely open." Death leaves us sensations to be activated and actualised as Beingsensation. Our Death is not an annihilation of ourselves but an alienisation of ourselves from 'being human' to 'becoming alien'. Death as a possibility gives Dasein sensationbeing to be actualised: sensations which Dasein as actualised could itself be-sensation: Death is the possibility of all impossibilities in life: to 'end' means to 'begin' again as a fort-da-fluxing of the exiled eternal return repeating reunions rites rituals. We can experience our own Death as an anxiety attack where we our out of ourselves as in our out-of-body-experiences. For Heidegger Death is a possibility as it opens out our Otherness out-of-the-body out-of-the-world as an eggoing ejected exiling forward-toward-death where we exit exist as a whole hole oozing out as an alien aura aroma seeking Sensationbeingtime.

Alien Being orbits alien being. An alienated being becomes being alien again. Being as Alien outside-the-world orbits overlooks outreaches bled being as alien in-the-world. Alien lets alien 'ab' as Being lets being 'be' But not all beings belong to Being as not all aliens belong to Alien as availability is only allowed through Thrown Time which is not always at hand to hold in being-alien alien-being as not all aliens and not all beings ever experience Being as time. Being is Alien. Sensation leads from Primordial Time to the Sensation of Alien Being. Sensation itself manifests itself as the Horizon of Alien Being.

Whether Alien is Alien is determined from and within the constellation of Being. Only an Alien can Save us Now - from Americanism.

"Fact leaves its ghost...all the foam of its freshness...The subject is the bait."

"Less and less, I have not learned to accept death. I remain uneducable about the wisdom of learning to die."

"Psychoanalysis must aspire to the sensation of music to hear the alien other. The unconscious is structured like a score."

Francis Bacon to Michael Peppiatt, Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt, Westview Press, 1996.

"Abject Alien Art Aspires to the Alien Condition of the Nailed Nervous System Penetrating the Body Beyond the Pleasure Principle."

"Music is the effort we make to explain to ourselves how our brains work. We listen to Bach transfixed because this is listening to a human mind."

Lewis Thomas (1913-94), The Medusa and the Snail, On Thinking about Thinking, 1979.

"Truly fertile Music, the only kind that will move us, that we shall truly appreciate, will be a Music conducive to Dream, which banishes all reason and analysis. One must not wish first to understand and then to feel. Art does not tolerate Reason."

"Interpreting by dreams.— That which we sometimes do not know or feel precisely while awake—whether we have a good or a bad conscience towards a particular person—the dream informs us of without any ambiguity."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, Preface to Second Edition, 1886.

"Nietzsche's good association with his father was music....Consequently music gives us our greatest insight into Nietzsche's nature. Freud saw too few clues extant to Nietzsche's sexuality partly because he was afraid to read him, partly because the founding father of psychoanalysis was notoriously indifferent to music."

"Ernest Jones says that Freud's aversion to music was well known to his colleagues...Freud's avoidance of music was part of his wider need to control emotion, for music has the power to evoke a range of feelings in the listener, to carry one away on a tide of romantic passion or bring on sadness and grief, and these were the reactions that he had to suppress at all costs."

"The subject in responsibility is alienated in the depths of its identity with an alienation that does not empty the same of its identity, but constrains it to it, with an unimpeachable assignation, constrains it to it as no one else, where no one could replace it. The psyche, a uniqueness outside of concepts, is a seed of folly, already a psychosis. It is not an ego, but me under assignation."

Emmanuel Levinas, Otherwise than Being: or, Beyond Essence, Trans. Alphonso Lingis, The Hague, 1981.

"...the phantom is not at all the product of the subject’s self-creation by means of the interplay between repressions and interjections. The phantom is alien to the subject who harbors it. Moreover, the diverse manifestations of the phantom, which we call haunting, are not directly related to instinctual life and are not to be confused with the return of the repressed..."

Julia Kristeva, Is Sensation a Form of Language? ; Time and Sense, New York : Columbia University Press, 1996.

"Psychoanalysis can only domesticate the demonic by placing it in the confines of regression therapy. There is something that haunts the present life, life as presence. For Deleuze this is repetition: not as regression but as originary difference, announcing not the return of the repressed (the past) but the evil spirits of the alien future; or rather, the time of Aion as opposed to the time of Chronos. This is the time of the Event (the time of eternal return)."

Keith Ansell Pearson, Spectropoiesis and Rhizomatics: Learning to Live with Death & Demons, Evil Spirits: Nihilism & The Fate of Modernity, Manchester University Press, 2000.

"We all live by the hidden areas of our make up...Instinct arises out of that whole unconscious sea inside us."

Francis Bacon, from Francis Bacon: Anatomy of an Enigma, Michael Peppiatt, Westview Press, 1996.

"He who wills adds in this way the sensations of pleasure of the successful executive agents, the serviceable 'under-wills' or under-souls - for our body is only a social structure composed of many souls - to his sensations of pleasure as commander."

"It seems to come straight out of what we choose to call the unconscious with the foam of the unconscious locked around it - which is its freshness."

Francis Bacon, The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon, David Sylvester, Thames and Hudson, 1987.

"Bacon did something only possible after the first generation of of Freudians - he painted traumas."

Andrew Sinclair, Francis Bacon: His Life & Violent Times, 1993, Crown Publishers, Inc., New York.

"We are always hounding ourselves. We have been made aware of this side of ourselves by Freud."

"A scene of hysteria. And that's how all of Bacon's series of spasms might be described: scenes of horror, vomit, and excrement, where the body is always attempting to escape by means of one of its organs in order to reach the expanse of color, the material structure. Bacon has often said that shadow in the domain of the Figures has just as much presence as the body; but shadow is the body that has itself escaped through some localized point or another in the contour. And the scream, Bacon's scream, is the operation through which the entirety of the body escapes through the mouth. All the thrusts and pulsions of the body."

Gilles Deleuze, Athleticism, The Logic of Sensation, Flash Art, May 1983.

"Bacon needs to renounce natural logic and upset it in the act of painting in order to reveal and transform into comprehensible terms something originating in the unconscious: the complex, multiple, and contradictory mass of emotions and the obsessive images that arouse it. This is its material, nothing other than the experience of human existence and the unconscious substrate over which it passes. Through revelation of the unconscious in painting, the insignificant existence of the individual rises to the grandness of a mythical experience: to a condition that transforms an infinitude of empirical experiences into the tragic story of mankind."

Luigi Ficacci, Bacon, 'Obsessed by Life', The Expression of Horror, Taschen, 2003.

"What Bacon accomplishes is a linkage of the power of the painterly process to the power of social authority.This is the source of the real sexual hysteria and theatricality of his paintings...It can be inferred from Bacon's paintings that he would agree with Anthony Storr in the idea that hysterical exhibitionism is a 'defense against depression' in a person who regards him - or herself as defeated, and as a defense against recognition of the lack of ideal persons in the world. But, at the same time, Bacon seems to posit hysteria as in its own dramatic way an ideal mode of representing oneself as a person. But there is a paradox here, for this idealization has an archaeologistic basis. In hysteria a person attempts to immorrtalize him - or herself by becoming extravagantly demonstrative, exhibitionistic, in affect announcing his or her being as absolute and indisputable. It is given a surplus of presence, as it were....The painterliness that gives hysterical flair to the person also mutilates that being into oblivion, generalizing it toward nonbeing. That something can be so real and at the next moment an illusion belonging to the past expresses the ambivalence endemic in archaeologism. All Bacon's figures exist in a time warp, at once radically contemporary yet belonging to a dead world. Bacon's hysterical painting is paradoxical, and never more so than when it gives authority to inherently unauthoriative, almost banal figures."

"Despite the different context and idiom of their respective ideas, both Nietzsche and Freud invoke an accursed will to repetition which conducts thinking to the black heart of Sisyphean futility. For Nietzsche, the demonic threat of a meaningless life endlessly relived is the apogee of nihilism; for Freud, the compulsion to repeat is a manifestation of the organism's longing to die. For each, the hapless subject of modernity is traumatized by the stirring of dark forces from within, fated to aggravate its lacerated pride in its pathetic attempts at self-overcoming...Nietzsche's darkly cryptic thought of the eternal return resists the status of an epistemological principle and by that very fact conducts thinking to the edge of madness. If desire thirsts for its own oblivion this is only true to the extent that it simultaneously thirsts to escape its own destiny. We are good because we lack the strength to be evil but we 'are' will to power and nothing besides."

Jill Marsden, Interminable Intensity; Nietzsche's Demonic Nihilism; Evil Spirits: Nihilism & The Fate of Modernity, Manchester University Press, 2000.

"Let's make clear, as it were, who's on the couch and who's behind the couch in one's r

Jeannette Lowen, Doing Time with Marcel Proust, Humanism & the Arts, Council for Secular Humanism.

**Jeannette Lowen, Doing Time with Marcel Proust, Humanism & the Arts, Council for Secular Humanism.**