There is something sad and elemental about them, in their depiction of the self-containedness of our worlds and their ultimate vulnerability in the face of the chaos beyond. At the same time, the title suggests an alchemical remedy of sorts. Is this the elixir (of self-awareness) that will heal the rift between us and the cosmos, the child-like Aeon about to be born into the storm, or is it just another placebo, the child’s toy of Heidegger’s account of the Heraclitean Aion (which, after all, is as good as things get in this part of the universe)?
Other things they remind me of:
- Tarkovsky’s Solaris, which you can watch online for free — in fact, all of his films are there (which is amazing; go see them)
- the tragic-absurdist post-apocalyptic eco-restoration performance photography (!) of Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison
- the “Fripulia” space-pod structures of Ukrainian performance/installation artist Fedir Tetianych (I can’t find any images of the things I’m looking for online, but I have a video interview I shot with him in 1990 which I may digitize and upload at some point)
- Jakob von Uexküll’s umwelten, which, again, are about the limit of our ability to step out of our own semiotic worlds — correlationism all the way down, as it were (in which case, is the storm raging outside the mathematical chaosmos Meillassoux would like us to access without access? is it possible? P-R theory says no…)
- and a lifetime’s worth of Hollywood visions of the eco-apocalypse.
Ecocritics and ecopsychologists, interpret away.
Crowley’s Aeon (Judgment, in other Tarot decks), the “crowned and conquering child, who dieth not, nor is reborn, but goeth radiant ever upon His Way.”
“And it is night; and because the night is the whole night of space, and not the partial night of earth, there is no thought of dawn. For the light of the Sun maketh illusion, blinding man’s eyes to the glory of the stars. And unless he be in the shadow of the earth, he cannot see the stars. So, also, unless he be hidden from the light of life, he cannot behold Nuit. Here, then, do I abide in unalterable midnight, utterly at peace.
“I have forgotten where I am, and who I am. I am hanging in nothing.”