Nikolaus Lenau´s Faust, Gilles Deleuze´s Proust, and Second Prelude to a Note about the Hyperset

I have stated elsewhere (in the Book of Strange and Unproductive Thinking) that I find Faust a quite strange, annoying and unconvincing figure (as well as that Goethe < Büchner). Likewise – despite Faust is a character through which humanity is individualised (like Don Quixote, Yorick, K., Malone, Ishmael or Peer Gynt) – Nietzsche said that, upon reflection, probably all that remains of Faust is a bizarre, degenerated example of scientific man. Ibsen wrote his Peer Gynt as an allusion to Faust and someone said Ibsen´s Peer Gynt is a bizarre satire upon Goethe´s Faust. I find Peer Gynt a more convincing, direct epitome of humanity, also given the ethical implications of Peer Gynt, although I somehow think that the mirror image of Faust (who is, of course, the much more comprehensive character) is somehow necessary to make Peer Gynt truly shine. Otto Weininger was very fond of Peer Gynt and it was Otto Weininger who made me understand Peer Gynt so that I wrote my Rompf as an allusion and a bizarre satire upon Peer Gynt. Otto Weininger (wrongly) was somehow dismissive of Ibsen´s later plays and said that, if he had wanted, Ibsen could have become greater than Goethe (because he somehow didn´t like Ibsen´s progressive attitude towards women). Otto Weininger was also dismissive of Nietzsche and called him a genius of seventh (lowest) grade (because he missed the ethical component in Nietzsche´s philosophy). Otto Weininger mourned that there was no one around like Goethe anymore in his days. I think if Otto Weininger had stayed alive he would have become greater than Goethe and Nietzsche, but he was psychologically troubled and did not survive. I partially understand Otto Weininger´s psychological troubles (in the dimension of overexcitabilities common among geniuses) and as far as I can see I am the only one around who actually understands Otto Weininger as a philosopher. I also think Ibsen was at least a more convincing and powerful playwright than Goethe. I have written one play so far and it was a bizarre satire upon theater and theater audience. I wonder what would have become of Büchner if he had stayed alive. I think Büchner would have become a major existential philosopher like Weininger or Nietzsche, not a theorizer of colours like Goethe. Enter Nikolaus Lenau.

 

Nikolaus Lenau denied Goethe possessing a „monopoly“ upon Faust, instead understood the archetype of Faust as a creative common of mankind and wrote his own version of Faust (like Christopher Marlowe did already before Goethe). Nikolaus Lenau is relatively obscure today although Wikepedia bluntly states that he was the greatest Austrian poet of the 19th century. His Faust is a somehow more dire figure than Goethe´s and is frantically and desperately motivated to understand the presumed „truth of it all“. As he gets thrown into the world of the living by the devil he neither finds fulfilment in elementary constructiveness (love, giving birth) nor in destructive passions and finally finds himself cut off from everything so that, in a metaphysically deluded reflection upon his emotional alienation, he kills himself (and falls prey to the devil´s plot). Lenau´s Faust finds himself in a heterogenous, emotionally detached world and, as long as he cannot be omnipotent, omniscient, omnisentient and sovereign rather chooses death, his endeavour to „weld together himself, world and God“ („Dich, Welt und Gott in eins zusammenschweißen“) a failure. Lenau´s Faust indeed does not have the universality of Goethe´s Faust, it is rather a reflecion upon Lenau`s inner world as he finds himself torn between a longing for a protective God and being embedded in nature and being an autonomous god himself, unable to find reconciliation and consolation between the two extremes. As Faust is an archetype for (metaphysically) struggling man Lenau was right to weld his alter ego together with the Faust archetype. I came across Nikolaus Lenau´s Faust when Alexander Nitzberg and his companion Peter Sendtko made a theatrical performance of the poem/play at Roman´s atelier some weeks ago; it was really lovely.

I still have not read Proust´s Recherche, I bought a copy of Swann´s Way when I was 19 or so and finally managed to read it some years ago. As far as I understand Proust is longing for closure within intensity too which he tries to achieve via realization of memory. Proust´s Recherche is also archetypical. Gilles Deleuze bluntly announces (in Proust and Signs) that the Recherche is not an undertaking directed into the past and into autobiographical memory but into the future and into learning where memory is the material through which the subject enriches itself and comes to itself. Neither the subject nor the world does express itself directly, the chiffres of the world are the signs (for instance social signs, romantic signs, etc.), and via understanding the signs the subject progressively deciphers the world. The purest signs are the signs of art as they are immaterial and spiritual. The signs of art are deeper than the subject or object that carries and sends out the signs and more elementary as they reveal the essence. The essence of an object is its true embeddedness in the world, that what is actualised about it and its potentialities, it is, with reference to the note about Deleuze and Rancière and as Angell de la Sierra puts it the „meta-noumenon … nothing less than the existential ontology of the object, another way of expressing its circumstantial semantic content, now and later on, a mind´s view of ,objective reality`“. The essence of the subject is to become a „point of view“ upon the world, finally, as Deleuze notes, a de/transpersonalised „spider“ which reacts to and acts upon the vibrations within the world-net. In becoming a „point of view“ the subject becomes objectified, eternal and immortal and it is eventually via the artwork via which man is able to make sense of the world and establish identity. It is associative intelligence, not logical intelligence (which is the intelligence of Faust) which reveals essence. – Trying to live in this world with a pronounced artist´s intelligence is not easy of course, but I have to say that Faust´s problems are to a considerable degree alien to me. The arid character of the world gets compensated as before my inner eye as lose graceful gestures I occasionaly witness get inflated into a graceful world and potentialities seem to pour out everywhere (despite being aware that that´s a kind of bluff package, yet only partially). I do not communicate much with people but I feel, in a way, in a communion with them much more than the chatterboxes out there commonly do. Memory is virtually present not in a fotographic, textual way but via a hypertextual monitor on which I can recall memories to a given sensual or intellectual stimulus via association, enriching both the stimulus and the memory content with additional meaning. That monitor kind of enwraps and cocoons me and gives me presence. Faust obviously lacks such a thing.

A while ago I have started to ruminate about the „hyperset“. The occasion was a diagram I saw which made me think of a, say, meta-diagram as a necessity to competently understand and process the diagram, as a, so to say, conscious reflection over the diagram. Likewise, I have observed that I seem to belong to many groups which often venn very thin and marginally, or not at all, making the final intersection a set to which seemingly only I belong, in solitude, on this earth, maybe also in this history. However, I also seem to understand all the sets at a higher level than those who only belong to the respective sets, I have higher awareness, I have higher consciousness of them. That diversification and pluralism is a good thing is commonplace, that the one who only understands a single discipline actually doesn´t understand that discipline either is what they say. Pluralistic understanding is good. Deleuze (and Guattari) refers to transversality as a mode of establishing connection between heterogenous sets that make up reality. Transversality does not try to totalize and normalise heterogeneity but is affirmative towards difference, lets them resonate and explores interdependencies. It is experimental and reflects anti-logos and becoming, the associative method of the Recherche, the instability of the world and the object as well as the emergence of essence through the process of art. Artistic style (i.e. a subjective mode of expression which is of objective substance) is what holds heterogeneity together and is the correlate to the logos (Welsch takes „transversal reason“ as a model for reason in postmodernity). This is vibrant and humming and make us think of a microcosmic reflection of macrocosm (which also Deleuze does in Proust and Signs). Remember, Otto Weininger says: „The ego of the genius accordingly is simply itself universal comprehension, the centre of infinite space; the great man contains the whole universe within himself; genius is the living microcosm. He is not an intricate mosaic, a chemical combination of an infinite number of elements; the argument in chap. iv. as to his relation to other men and things must not be taken in that sense; he is everything. In him and through him all psychical manifestations cohere and are real experiences, not an elaborate piece-work, a whole put together from parts in the fashion of science. For the genius the ego is the all, lives as the all; the genius sees nature and all existences as whole; the relations of things flash on him intuitively; he has not to build bridges of stones between them.“ That is, well, the purest emanation of the hyperset, not somehow clumsily (or, if you want, more cautiously and operational) as it appears before my inner eye or that of Deleuze, Guattari or Proust (not to speak of Faust). Unfortunately Otto collapsed psychologically under its airy weight.

Despite having written the First Prelude to a Note about the Hyperset months ago it seems that I have not progressed a lot about thinking about it further and deeper, which is, however, excusable since I have done other things. I wonder whether the „hyperset“ can be a mathematical object and how it could be modelled, maybe it could shed light on the incompleteness theorem. I also wonder whether consiousness could actually be understood as a hyperset, or what we refer to as the soul, or processes of „emergence“ in nature (which are, so far, little understood). It reflects however an elevated state of mind which is, in the same fashion, „grounded“. Maybe I also lose interest in the hyperset, though I don´t really think so because first I like the name and second I think it is actually a name and category that refers to something real and one day, after I am gone, they will jubiliatingly scream „the hyperset, the hyperset!“ when they´ve done something dilettante; but that does not differ from what I do and how I came to think of the hyperset.

Prelude to Note about the Hyperset

Wols

Wols said to Ione Robinson that van Gogh is the end of paining, in the paintings of van Gogh everything explodes; and I said elsewhere (in the Books of Strange and Unproductive Thinking) that – as it occurs to me – while in the paintings of Vincent everything explodes into an outer space, in the paintings of Wols everything seemingly explodes into an inner space; I may have failed to thorougly describe it: They are maybe the projections of explosions/happenings that materialise in a higher dimensional spacetime into man´s limited dimensional prison, or they, so to say, capture the inner intensity of explosions, make the inner intensity of explosions visible, show these explosions/happenings in a kind of phase space. Wols is a reincarnation of Vincent some decades later and the projection of Vincent into an enlarged, respectively more complex inner phase space (or so). I may have failed to thoroughly describe it.

(Like Vincent) Wols was exceptionally intelligent, an extremely divergent thinker, very handy with making associations; his life was chaotic, impulsive and he lived intuitively, he repelled organisation and institution and regulation and unfortunately progressed into a heavy drinker which may have contributed to his untimely death at age 38 (due to a meat poisoning). He was an outsider from early on and discribed his adolescence as „horrific“ („After a rather unfortunate youth, at odds with myself, nowhere homogenous, I faced at the same time all kinds of problems. I have never been particularly well up to date about what happened with me and in my surroundings despite all efforts of work and contemplation.“)

Sartre, who knew Wols, supported him financially and tried to help him, called Wols a „hybrid between a human and a Martian“ – and it is true that fellows like Wols are both most at the center of the human experience as well as they are aliens who try to communicate with the Earthlings, with mixed responses, and to not very much avail – Sartre tried to understand Wols as an incarnation of existentialist nausée who would fit into his philosophy, Wols however was always heavily reluctant to offer explanations to his work or to his approach, in his encounters with Ione Robinson he announced that he does not know what he is doing, he may be a microbe („I am a victim, by natural history. A microbe, probably observed through a telescope by inhabitants of an atom, or by the secret service of the milky way“, he said in one of his aphorisms), he said to her that it is of no use trying to explain his paintings to her (Ione Robinson was a figurative painter) since she would not understand it anyway („Often I observe with my eyes closed, what I observe. Everything is there, it is beautiful, it exhausts“; „Those who dream when they are awake have knowledge of a thousand things, which slip the attention of those who dream only when they are asleep“; „Observerving means closing the eyes“, as he noted in his aphorisms), most famously, while having a walk with Ione, he immediately drew his attention to a crack in the pavement and announced that this crack would resemble his art: the crack would live and grow, it is an expression of the forces of nature – which lead to the interpretation that Wols is a kind of microbe which recognises the invisible, or other universes than ordinary (and even extraordinary) man does.

Because of being a mismatcher par excellence, Wols never felt at home in the art scene. His endeavour reached into the creation of a kind of Gesamtkunstwerk, the Circus Wols, with not only his paintings but also his aphorisms and scrapbooks being an integral part of it (and unfortunately the ultimate realisation of Circus Wols was made impossible by his early death). In his aphorisms and scrapbooks a vision and understanding of everything being connected and every thing being a window through which one can see eternity (for those who CAN see) is prominent. He liked Kafka, Baudelaire, Lautréamont, Poe, Rimbaud, van Gogh and others he called „Irrlichter“ (ghost lights) … me, I also had this vision of these guys (especially when thinking of Kafka) being Irrlichter, a light that illuminates the human condition reluctantly, ponderingly, flickering (I have also called them Negative Buddhas) … because the only true, and upright, light in the circus humanum (and therefore always threatened with extinction) are they, the Ultracomplex. – At his time and after his death Wols had influence on art informel and tachism but his popularity became soon overshadowed by pop art and the like. It is true that Wols´ art is not an extroverted art. It is true that it is singular. And it is true that it comes from the shadow realms of human thought, it even comes from the shadow realms of the Continuum (where the geniuses and their eternal ideas/creations dwell), as an mixture of explosion and implosion, explosions that happen in the exurbia regions and then maybe get sucked into, implode into the unknown, the uninhabitable … „ahhh, the exurbia regions of human thought, , where the dances of signifiers and the signified become most dislocated and most elementary, hyper-authentic, hyper-innocent, ready to return to base again … after that the seam of infinity, which we love“, as I put it elsewhere; Wols may have put it differently, in another language, in other „symbols“, then he disappears…

It got noted  by Dominique de Menil that Wols was „a rebel who did not even care about rebellion“ (and „Painting or not painting, it is equal to Wols. But it is strange how he wanders about like Poe´s „Man of the Crowd“, and from time to time may leech off a glass of booze, whereas the Guilty comfortably relish literature and their beefsteak“, was one of his aphorisms), and it got noted that Wols´ paintings are beyond any truly comprehensive intellectual interpretation. I happened to browse to the tables of painting in that book and saw, on a double page, Vert cache rougé (1947) and Ohne Titel (1946/47). Especially in Ohne Titel I saw a kind of face which presents itself in a grotesque and confusing way to the intellectuals, or to humanity in general, to those who want to decipher it, and also to those who would like to make an intellectual toy out of Wols, but will never succeed.

And I had to really laugh about this <3

It made my day.

By second observation/upon reflection, the face presented seems to be neither particularly happy or unhappy, as well as it is neither particularly loosened and unchained from the space it emerges from nor particularly spilled by it and submerged. Wols was considered by some as an unhappy artist, an artist who paints, displays and represents „damaged life“. Wols, of course, was aware of this, the misera conditio, but refuted interpretations of him as an artist who mourns about the horrors of existence. „I am a lover of life“ (depite all that, and despite his own miserable condition), he confirmed to Ione Robinson. It was noted that in his encounters with Ione Robinson Wols remained evasive, overly associative and metaphoric, and enigmatic. Grohmann noted that Wols constitutes upon multiple and eternal contradictions (and through this, may achieve completeness). I have called them elsewhere the Ultracomplex People, and we are actually not evasive, metaphoric or enigmatic at all, our minds just appear somehow bizarre to others – while in reality we are overly sane. In our inner life, due to absence of ego, there are no true inner anchors, just, more or less, fluidity. What others see as contradictions, battles or explosions within us – well, maybe on the vast wide sea: there are two ships colliding, maybe there is even a sea battle… but there is, first and foremost, the vast wide ocean, with all sorts of life and things happening in no way ever affected by them, being of a different logic or embedded into another subsystem, like the fishes and the deep sea fishes, and the good morays… there is also land and shit, and sky, and open space… that is the arena! The inner life of the ultracomplex person is its own phase space. So to say. The ultracomplex person may only appear to be complex, because the UP is the all, the „living microcosm“, there is perfect fluidity; the complexity may come into being by the circumstance of the UP being thrown into an intractable, internally segmented world, which therefore makes the efforts to communicate and the efforts to establish communion of the UP with his surroundings apparently convulsive and seem like apparently enigmatic explosions. Wols was one of us, of the Ultracomplex.

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Update about Ultracomplex People

“And if we can build machines that are even more complex than humans, then they might have experiences and abilities that we can’t even imagine.”

“Pain in the Machine” investigates whether pain and suffering are as essential for machine learning as they are for human cognitive development.
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Micheal Chappelle haha my comment is still on there i forgot about that
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LOL due to me being ultracomplex I will explain in more detail the overman to you and teach you the overman. Posthumous we might be born. Maybe it will not be very spectacular in my case, since we might get overtaken by machines and shit soon and rendered useless. That will feel good.
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Prelude to Note about the Hyperset

Therefore it is necessary to establish/to become the Hyperset. Makes you a member in every group, and a (temporary) reject in any lol. Like consciousness is a hyperset over the brain functions, the hyperset over this would then be the emergence of the consciousness of the overman, who, basically, is the intellectual and psychological superconductor.

hyperset

Philip Hautmann Maybe this could also be put into mathematical terminology, but a hyperset intuitively seems to be the conscious reflection of a set, the info-cognition. There is an understanding emerging about the universe/reality as a set, respectively procession of a set; deep down is mathematics the underlying structure of reality?, but mathematics does not process anything, if so it would be a hyper-algorithmic procession; „metaphysics“ an integral part of reality, of the physical – but how can the interlink be thought about or be formalized and rationalized? The metaphysical as a shadow of the mental?

Anyway there are the obviously seperate realms of nature/reality: the mathematical, the physical, the chemical, the biological (and this does only account for the realm of nature; not eg the social realm, which may have to be reflected entirely differently so that, in the end, also the philosophical is a disctinct category of reality); eminent biologist Robert Lanza has proposed the universe is actually, at the root, biological, like an organism, I need to get into this.

Failed Note about Ultracomplex People

A while ago I made some plans about writing a note about ultracomplex people who seem to operate at the trans-infinity level, people who spend their life trying to figure out what they´re actually doing, people like Nietzsche, Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard, van Gogh, Shakespeare, Kafka, Pessoa, Faridoddin Attar, Georg Büchner, Otto Weininger, Emily Dickinson or Heinrich von Kleist, but I don´t seem to be so occupied with that any longer; originally I have written a long note in my head, bright like sun, but, within the complexities, it has somehow shrunk to a white dwarf, shining nevertheless (for those who´re able to see afar off and that´s sufficient). To put them in one category those people seem to transcent categories so let us simply mention on this behalf the categories #ultracomplexity #supersanity #hypergenius and what I have labelled as the #whitelodge, respectively the level of profound giftedness in terms of complexity of intellect, soul and spirit. Since they often are to a reasonable degree troubled and sad as well as likely to be devoid of robust identity I want to offer support and encouragement and remind them that although they are occupied with the total sum of problems they also (should) know that, in reality, there are no problems at all, problems only exist for the entertainment of our mind, all that there is is the eternal peace  of the mind; they will be busy trying to deliver a message to humanity, that is their primary occupation, only to find out they have huge difficulties doing that because they are not really a part of humanity (because, as I said, they´re ultracomplex people), so they can deliver no direct message to humanity, only an indirect one, but that is the BEST part of it; because of their eternal eccentricity towards humanity they are situated at the very core of humanity and the human experience at all, maybe ultracomplex people are the only people who ever have truly lived, a woman who knew Kafka said that this seemingly highly neurotic and dysfunctional man was the only man who thought like a human should think and who felt like a human should feel; since they directly stare into the abyss and are terrified by life and existence and horrified by what people do they are also determined to and preoccupied with establishing harmony; usually they are warm-hearted and concerned about others and love will save you. There may be ruminations whether they just are wandering spirits who have failed to reach Satori (although at an intellectual level they have reached Satori; they constantly see things anew and from fresh perspectives, they are independent from traditions and institutions and they are able to create original worlds, autonomously), yet maybe Satori would not pacify them either, because of their intensities (and, remember, the true Zen master acknowledges that he has truley gained nothing by Satori), so let us say that their Satori shall lie in finding out new ways, new exits to heaven, to make everything more interesting and colourful, that shall be their path, although theirs is not „the path“, neither the pathless path but what Hölderlin calls the eccentric pathway/exzentrische Bahn, twist and shout; at the end of it all lies the unio mystica with God. So, concluding this, I will write down no additional material on ultracomplex people (at least not for now). I will however, when I manage to get my relatively comfortable ass up, soon eventually write the Metaphysical Note about Extreme Metal in which I shall teach you the overman. (I am also not in a hurry about that affair since after that my relatively brief writer´s career might be over, similar to that of Rimbaud who also was an ultracomplex person (similar to Lautréamont).)

Comments

Micheal Chappelle I agree with the statement that the ultracomplex are the core of humanity and make up the body of individuals who have truly lived. They are the center of stasis around which everything revolves and everything is measured, by bearing all problems and all ideas they have the greatest impressions of reality, having it seared into their soul as they interact in it.