Plane Magick
Sending a message (to the planes in Goblin Combe). Psychomagick on your own.
How I began waiting on planes
How one can start to wait for planes
How planes become magick
Entering into a meditation on planes
Are we always waiting on something?
Entering into a ritual tug of war with planes
Unbeknownst to me
It is a meditation in that you cannot see where you are going until you are there.
Opaque machine full of passengers, people passengers.
The plane experience was both an invocation (decoration too) and a joke.
Joke as an invocation.
The humour and experience reminds one of innate humour goodness: capacity for abstraction in joy, celebration.
I am not genuinely invoking the planes, but I begin to wait for them, for their sound,
(Now and then I have the sensation that I can bring them on with my thoughts)
The force of their flight makes the cardboard planes dance.
When I start cutting them down, it’s like I’ve called the planes to show them what I’m doing, To show them this act of cutting cardboard effigies of their likeness down from the trees on the cliff edge. Sending a message.
This keeping time, through a formulae that has emerged through bizarre specificities (and spectacles). Whim, aesthetics, ‘practicalities’ industry, breeds a desire.
The filmmaking itself, to have the marriage of the sound and the cardboard effigy.
Like giving a voice to a portrait and a face to a ghost…the actual planes were hidden above the clouds.
Is plane becoming a mantra?
Celebrate opacity, but not machines.
There’s a whole lot of ‘not managing’.
Suddenly it works completely.
A language starts to happen. Language is an event; the sound, the hidden plane, knife, string, cardboard planes and therefore
‘a message is sent’
‘a message sent’
Sending a message
Sending a message
‘message received’
‘message read’
At what point do we begin waiting?
What are we waiting for at any given moment?
How many things are we waiting for at any given moment?
Summoned, they come.
I send a message
The planes, spearing them in the belly with the mind spear.
If I can turn myself into a spear to penetrate these planes through the belly.
Flying planes by a cliff edge in Goblin Combe.
The act, on my own, gave way to a deep loneliness, with almost psychedelic effect.
My body feeling like a landscape I could only partially recall
Dull taste
Finding a stoney outcropping hidden by trees and shrubs watching the planes again.
Opaque
Trying to get them on my phone camera
Is this a photo of people?
mechanic opacities