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It's night.
I woke up with a twitch.
I look down from above and try to sort out my thoughts.
Wasn't I in paradise with a woman? A dream? No this can not be. My heart is bleeding! I draw,write down everything that swirls in my sick head. Will know what happened. A network of thought appears. Fertile and so distributed, yet all in one:
Neoanalog, Game, Noise, Bid, Readymade, Gadget, Toys, Surreal Interfaces, Light and Sound, Electronics of Eternal Flow, Component Art, Communication, Chance, Technology in one Poetic form, Soul, Nature, the Magic Circle: place of transformation, Improvisation -
Identity, Fiction, Real ? Movement, Dance, Art, Painting, whatever
So much, everything in one unit.


You must know, Our Emonaut was once a virtual reality programmer.
His workplace : a PC. The display, two-dimensional, his only work,
And the digital, his logical word.
Keyboard, tacking fingertips and a circling mouse, His gaze just straight out,
There was no left and right, His neck stiff, And time passed, faster than the autumnal wind. Like a lonely child

Remember this stormy day when it all started:
the doubt about the authority of the display, as the only visual output device.
What was wrong with me? What was wrong with the screen?
I stretch my hand towards the display, Just a pane of Plexiglas,
And behind it, nothing that touches, Feels, smells, tastes monotonous sensuality,
optic nerves overwrought
The interface Mouse Keyboard Torture Feeling
the under-demand of my craftsmanship.
My body was stunted. Got fat and lame.
At heart, I longed to translate my virtual stories, interactive objects,
into tangible reality.
To play with them. Like a little child creating a magic circle with his dolls around him.
It was the night of departure.
From software to hardware.
From pixel to material
From complexity to possible simplicity.

In search of making abstract digital technology sensuous again,
our emonaut found the answer in the neoanalog .
The neoanalog stood for the comprehensibility of the digital, in which traditional craftsmanship and high-tech synthesized.
Wood, metal, leather, glass and fabric were the new components.
out of which technological gadgets should be made:
physical objects that worked with data streams.
and had their own interactive intelligence.
In the neoanalog, the computer seemed to dissolve in its component parts
and integrate itself into other objects.
It was like a kind of decentralization of computers.
The disappearance of the pc.
In order to decode the secret language of the neo-analogue,
our emonaut had to learn the art of electronics and craftsmanship:
in a few years he mastered the soldering of electronic components and circuits,
The theory of the machine's organism.
He progammed microchips
with which he could manipulate the cognition of the intelligence of his objects.
Addressed Sensing, Feeling and Reacting,
which allowed him to create sensuous interfaces for his fantastic machines.
He began to paint, to sculpt and to become interested in sculpture,
because his objects should also have a shape, a shape.
His creative work changed completely,
His movements were no longer monotone,
He felt what he was doing in building of all kinds.
He touched everything.
Sensual resistance.

Time is running away. I have to hurry. Finding thoughts,
building machines that help me to progress. My heart is burning,melting.
And I think it's time. I've got to get out of the city into the forest.
Unpack everything a log, pin all sorts of things.
By driving the highway. It's night and my heart suffers
I'm dreaming or just being laughed at...? A GIANT black;
Locked me the passage Pointing to the left, I obey, weird ..
And turn immediately, a gate appears drive in...
red, black, white.

I open my eyes. I'm still alive. My heart beats. My breath quivers.
A door in front of me. I open it and enter.
The light appears. And I guessed it, Duchamp with pipe sitting there.
I stretch my hand. and show him my chopped toy from the flea market.
He laughs and I realize, we are somehow close.
He breathes on me.
And I fall asleep.

A tap will wake me up. It's a naked kid typing on my nose.
He runs away immediately and I notice that he wants to show me something.
I get up and run after it. He screams: Stop!
And I obey.
And what I saw, was wonderful.
Before him is a toy gun. He picks it up and it pops.
A magical circle appears.
The boy just still naked, turns into the sheriff Taktak.
And says: Now you are allowed in.
We play the whole day.
Me, Bandit, and he who chases me.
Through the prairie to the borders of a foreign city.
Once there, the game ends.
I turn around. I am suddenly alone.
But what I felt was not loneliness.

My car appears, and I get in.
The engine is buzzing, accelerating to 500K.
My curiosity grabs me. Aim ? The center of this secret city.
Huge skyscrapers obscure the land.
Arrived there is riot at the start. Panic people walk past me.
But what is the reason? I'll look. There!
In the middle of the market place: A time bomb!
Tick-TackTick- Tack-. Oh God!!!!!!! 1 minute left. Until the bang.
I scream: Let me through, I'm electric kindz !!!!!!!!!!
I screw, cutte, solder, But no standstill.
5 seconds remaining 4 2 1 0 Close your eyes. Past?
Mimi-mimi-mi-mi sounds as a sound: childish sound!
Do I expect thunder and smoke? Open my right eye, And a lid opens.
Out of the time bomb inside, Come out two dwarfs.
They waving flags.
Which states: Free our world of poverty and congestion !!! 
I smile and go and paint ideas.



I'm back in the car. Strange things happen.
But I realize that what happened now is very close to me.
The ride does not end, it is raining.
And red flowers adorn the area.
A street sign appears: With the inscription: Today Magic:
I turn right and follow the path. Arrives at the end.
Is a circus tent lit by thousands of fireflies. I go in.
And truly, today is magic: Georges Méliès, the French inventor, illusionist, filmmaker,
shows his famous magic trick.
Beside him. A table with three bulbs. All still off. Dark.
The voltage increases. The audience, impoverished farmers, is silent.
He pulls a wand out of his pants, whips around wildly and says:
1, 2, 3
The illusion is perfect. Each light bulb lit in turn.
Astonish . and shortly thereafter applause breaks out.
Clapping hands have no end.
I think: Will the knowledge! How did he do it?
Sure, of course !!! Magnetic Switches, Attraction, And His Magic Stick The Interface.
A magnetic bar.
For the ignorant peasantry, A mystery like shadow on the wall.
Related to the Platonic cave allegory.
I go back to the car Take a sheet
and sketch some thoughts:



Continue on. Towards icy mountains.
Pointed like pyramids, scattered on black, sandy soil.
A play of light dives.
Because the night is fading. It's getting daylight.
Take a break, and look at this reddish transition.
The lighting mood. changes from minute to minute.
The sun is painting with thousands of shadows and millions of red colors,
on the surfaces of the mountains, everything new.
They seem to be moving, like walking saws.
Think of Monet And I confess, `
How important they are:
darkness, light and musical accompaniment: the chirping of birds,
as clear as the morning.
The wind, The leaves, The noise of the city,
And not to forget my own heartbeat.
Well said !
A strange voice, But so warm, Sounds behind my back.
Turn me around. That's not true?
John Cage and David Tudor
!!!! Both are there !!
We go mushrooming and talking:
About electronic sound sculptures of any kind.
Philosophizing about the boundless freedom of the performer
in the here and now,
Iin the improvisation: everything is music: even the silence, the error ....
I love this approach,
Free me of limits and anxiety in dealing with my performative sound.
David Tudor, pioneer of electronic music,
gives me his radio and asks me:
make something out of it!
I run to the car and unscrew it.
The organism of the radio, The electronic board, Branched roads,
In the eternal flow of electricity. You, I want to reconnect!
Unique sounds hide here, I call it Noise, Before the language was the cry,
With him comes his companion, the accident.
I'm done with my surgery, I want to show you,
But they are not there anymore.
It was clear! Nevertheless, I continue. F
ind more and more pleasure in this surreal place


The journey continues, But no longer alone
Because yesterday at the bloody lake ..
I met YOU
A little fairy She enchanted me And fell in love ..
And because my heart wanted you, took me with you.
Now we ride together along the red streets,
laughing and silly,
and sing the sacred song: Time flies like a pearl in the wind ..
I tell her about me, the Emonaut, who builds fantastic machines.
She is interested. Ask me, Will more.
How much depth does your art need?
And answer: As deep as I love you now
She laughs and does not let up:
What enriches your love for the neo-analogue worldly art?
I think and say:
Electronic art works can communicate, respond and feel together.
You are not alone anymore.
Just as we two -
and could be part of a great,
philosophical, fantastic, connected and playful narrative.
She interrupts me> There! I look to the left:
An illuminated Ferris wheel
A fairground !!
Rejoice like mad kids
And drive there


∈ GAME ∋
A strange man opens the gate for us.
It is Roger Callois, a sociologist, philosopher,
He wrote the book: The Games and the People: Maske u. Noise.
Walk in here!
My Daaaaamen and Heeeeeeeerren!
Aha! she says and pulls me by the hand and with a jerk we enter Phantasialand.
A huge crowd, wild sounds,
magical lights, screaming children, swirling carousels,
electrifying machines,
Hau den Lukas, bumper cars,
ticket booths, food stalls, beer tents, freak shows,
ghost trains, roller coasters, fireworks.
This is not a dungeon,
but a paradise for me !!


My heart races like never before,
We climb on the ferris wheel,
And enjoy together for a moment, the wide of the horizon.
You can see the skyscrapers of the city, the prairie,
there the forest and the black bloody lake.
And the people down there, like wandering ants, watch them.
The ride, the intoxication comes to an end.
Get out and run hand in hand, to the Magic Mirror House.
There should be mystical mirrors from ancient times that summon the truth.
I'm curious. Come on, let us in! ,
I choose one, with the inscription?
Just take a look?
Yes, your roles in the rain Stop me,
wait and nothing happens.
But suddenly rattles and shutterst
A sequence of pictures like a comic strip,
Before my eyes appears :
An artist, an inventor; An Operator, A Performer A Musician, Don Quixote,
A Game Designer, A Masked,
A Romantic Futurist An Illusionist
And In The End
Me Naked. As a seven year old child in the rain.
I am terrified, but my fairy is with me,
she whispers to me a spell:
You are you and I am in our own time.
I smile and together we leave this haunted place.
Are hungry. Go eat something. Drink black wine Only for us two.
Will you prove my love, And take you to the shooting gallery,
Order ten shots, And an air rifle with real power.
This flower is supposed to be my symbolic artifact.
Focus on us goals. But miss.
Again and again Again and again
she looks at me sweetly. Let me get started!
I say no ! ,
She tugs at the gun.
I refuse.
she cries. A scramble arises, Suddenly a shot!
Right in my heart, I scream in pain.
It bursts and breaks vertebrae
red, black white,
expelled from paradise.
We two.