I have this vision Of a galactic mind which is pure thought, pure mentalism. It is infinitely logical and utterly rational. Beyond the gnostics' demiurge, into the highest crystalline reaches of platonic idealism. And this pure mind sends its cells all over the galaxy, piercing the ether of spacetime with long tendrils that network it together. These are the dendrites. The dendrites are the connective agents of the galactic Mind. But there is something else at work in this vision. Will o' wisps. Like the misty balls of light over a swamp? These are soft beautiful lights. They shift colors across their gossamer surface from deep violet to pale yellow. Reds and blues, greens and golds. Some of them look like the "eyes" on a butterfly's wings. They are insubstantial and they radiate faint phosphorescent clouds which swirl around them. They are not mind, but agents of emotion. They are feeling and secrets and desires. One here might spark a laugh; another there might inflame passion and two lovers will sing before sinking to their knees in a tangle of breath and tongues and furious frantic hands.  

original study for will o' wisp cages (watercolor on paper)

dendrites added in oil paint after they were discovered...
I intend to create more work based on these ideas   art informed by this particular idea...I suppose paintings first...
     

The literal translation, listed in the dictionary (clearly a publication of dendritic order) says the will o wisps are "foolish fire". And they are. It's foolish to laugh, foolish to love, foolish to make transitory, temporary arts, because heartache and joy will all pass away like so much mist in the night. Foolish to play with fire, right? So the dendrites have built cages for the will o wisps. Straight black lines--not these insubstantial ephemeral beauties, but glossy hard edged lines. Beautiful in their way like a knife's edge is beautiful. And they enclose the willowisps in order, in thought. Which means their lights are only seen behind the structural beauty of form and thought. They do not burn briefly in the night and do what willowisps are supposed to do--lightly mislead us into feeling immortal, even for just a few moments. The dendritic cages for the willowisps seem wise, sometimes. Because they focus the light, they make the light illuminate, instead of burn and shift and change. These things are worthwhile, to be sure. But they don't do much for feeling. In my vision, the galaxy has been overrun by the agents of mind. Instead of feelings, we have thoughts. Instead of pouring out and emptying ourselves, we pause and consider. Is this particularly evil? This is somewhere in that place "beyond good and evil". Because the illumination of our minds is worthwhile. But the cooling of our passion is the price. O! O! The loss of those moments of burning glowing radiant joy. The caging of our feelings...Our shining immortal expressions, our momentary explosions of desire passion wisdom madness divinity risk rage love sweat weeping and laughter these are the artistry of life! The willowisp cages are the work of Mind! And we need it some times. I suppose. To fly rocket ships and see the order of things and build the houses that warm us. But O! This life is so short it is not a caged thing it is a burning blazing thing. Life is much more of a quick iridescence over a vast dark swamp. A brief burst of foolish fire. O to burn that way! To slip through the bars of the cage, to swim free from the swamp and dance through the bars--look back at the blood red dendrites and laugh and weep for them. And to sing among the chaos of the heavens. And burn against the night. To leave the afterimages of love on another one's eyelids.

 

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