[ZB Magnet 3] Athanasius Kircher (1601-1680), Magnes sive De arte magnetica tripartium ( Köln: Iodocus Kalcoven, 1643), Zentralbibliothek Zürich, Alte Drucke und Rara, Z 113, fol. 284. (more…)
Dip is a rotation. Using this Diagram on the sea, will help you to find were you are. (Translation, p. 298). [ZB Magnet 2] William Gilbert, De Magnete (London: Petrus Short, 1600), Zentralbibliothek Zürich, Alte Drucke und Rara, XVI.28, pp. 200-201. (more…)
[ZB Magnet 2] William Gilbert, De Magnete (London: Petrus Short, 1600), Zentralbibliothek Zürich, Alte Drucke und Rara, XVI.28, p. 96.
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A Journal for Art, Sex and Mathematics is appealing because:
It trains our perception of differences and oppositions (gender, polarity, property, capacity, opportunities) and it also expresses hope. Hope, that thinking itself (mathematical construction, zero/nothing) might be able to continue to think. (Realometer)
“Curiosa and curiosa!” shouted Alice as she entered the logia.
Her hand was enormous, the door was tiny,
there were two glass keys frozen on her cheeks like tears,
two blue unfallen splinters of ice.
“If I wave my arms around me, I will enter the bubble!”
The battle continues, the scientist vanishes, the dilemma
Declaims, “I see the eigenvalue in thine eye”
Haversacks heave sines, mantissas wear mantillas,
“Lemme outa here!” shouts the phi trapped in the phial.
“Hush,” says the matriarchal matrix, “time for bed.”
And the girl sleeps, dreaming, “Erogenous, erogenous.”
In Poloni’s work the name “Ettore Majorana” symbolizes a certain affection, a feeling of being threatened by an abyss. An abyss of intrigues, a black hole, of atomic bombs, physics and politics. This black hole reminds me of Van Gogh’s yellow period or of Munch’s mad rotations – so different from the (moving or still) images of Einstein and his ideas in the Einstein Museum/Historisches Museum Bern which is situated only a few meters away from Poloni’s work at the Kunsthalle.
For a certain time I was a character who helped authors to write about art and science.
Two voices are needed, two bodies in the same room.
Both must be dramatic, foldable at the arms and knees,
like puppets or continents. Both must beware.
Words are collapsible, like chairs,
and the children will always laugh loudest.
Are little girls serpents, since both eat eggs?
Put that in your pipe, caterpillar, and smoke it.
Dividing a loaf with a knife, taking a dog from a bone,
this game is good, and will last for as long as
the two bodies stay, dramatic, absurd and brazen,
orchestral and exposed, as long as the two voices
carry the weight of needing to be understood,
as long as the room fills up with the irreversible
proof of eyes that never leave their faces
as they enact their comedy of decipherment.
Archimedes lost his head to a corporal’s sword.
What sort of madness would one need to fall for numbers and stay intact?
Trying to understand love via tensor algebra, a sheet of obscure signs appears across the bed.
Don’t use the word infinity unless you mean it.