- Rn2
- Vd
- Ep
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- Ab
Those Gone Shall Rise Again
The abject is the ghost note: the stench of death and fire, repellent and still inhaled with every pass.
The Sublime-Dark
A WORD ENGLISH NEVER MADE · READ THE CUSTOMS HOUSEThe horror at what breaks the boundary between self and not-self. What must be expelled to remain intact, and the fascination that survives the disgust.
From the Latin abicere, to cast off. Julia Kristeva gave it its modern weight in 1980: the abject is what a self throws out in order to remain a self, and the horror when it comes back into view.
Revulsion with the self implicated. The corpse, the wound, the thing that was inside now outside. The border between you and not-you fails for a moment, and the failure is the feeling. It repels and fascinates in the same motion, which is why it is impossible to look at and impossible not to.
Disgust rejects an object and is done. Abjection registers a collapse: the object was never fully separate from you. Dread fears what approaches; the abject horror is that it is already partly you.
Beauty that will not stay clean. Decay treated with the same reverence as light, refusing the viewer an easy place to stand.
The abject is the ghost note: the stench of death and fire, repellent and still inhaled with every pass.
The abject is the ghost note: a fascination with one's own depletion, held too close to the face to look away from.
The Abject is the ghost note, the pull toward wreckage that should repel and instead keeps the eye fixed.
The abject is the ghost note, the pull toward what should repel, kept just under the surface.
The abject is the ghost note: the adversary's decay rendered in the same reverent light as the beauty it stalks.
The abject is the ghost note: a death's head rendered gorgeous at the threshold, decay given the same care as the light.
Abject at trace. It repels and the frame will not look away from it.