Konrad Bogen

The future is text

Hello you,
this is an urgent letter.
I beg you, please read it carefully.

In-between you and me, there is text.

In-between you and me, there is text.

This is an urgent letter.

Before we continue, let me introduce myself a bit. Since long ago, I live in a small room in an old castle. The castle is in the middle of a dark forest, surrounded by trees and wild animals. I’m almost alone here. In fact I have one loyal butler who serves me. He is working downstairs, in the kitchen. Did I mention, I’m a composer? Just like you ... This castle is a special castle. It has a beautiful entrance, with a golden sun on top. After you pass the iron fences, you will find seven sculptures in the hallway. My personal, small chamber is located in the old tower in the east. You will navigate through a delicate set of staircases and hallways. Everything is put together in the most beautiful way. The castle is majestic, in the midst of raw nature around us. It is a shining light in this wild and unpredictable forest. Once upon a time, I was new in this castle. I can remember. But now, it feels like home to me. Once I was young like you. Now I’m old. My body feels weak, and death is near. Are you alive?

Text is dead. Dead letters, written on a dead page. Text is nothing, until you read it. Are you alive? The text is read by you. Sometimes the text is read in long melodies, then the razor-sharp symbolic sequences blur into vague lines. Careful, slow, slow, don’t tear them apart. And sometimes it is read with a scalpel, only substantives, only verbs, watch out! Don’t cut yourself. Text-texture-textile. Text is like textile. Did you ever weave something? A carpet, for example. When you weave, you connect a fabric called „warp“ with a fabric called „weft“. The warp is connected by the weft. That is the art of weaving. You connect the warp with weft. Text is like textile. You can tell by its name. Reading is just like weaving. Connecting one thing with the other, slowly, don’t tear anything apart. When weaving a carpet, you connect the warp with the weft. What is the warp, and what is the weft of text? Interesting ... in my Library, I read about the industrial revolution. It seemed to have quite an impact. I heard, the revolution was sparked by the invention of weaving machines. Interesting connection ...

Weaving is connecting. Connecting the warp with weft. In that analogy, what interests me is: what is the warp, and what is the weft of text? Are you interested in music? Did you ever hear of pitches? One pitch is called „e“. Another pitch is called „a“. Another pitch is called „g“. Single pitches. You can play them on a piano. Listen to what happens now: „e-a-g“. You see? Now they are melody. Again: „e-a-g“. Does it sound differently than the single pitches? What happened? A space in-between appeared. The single pitches „e“, „a“ and „g“ got connected by an interval. The interval is the in-between. Now they are melody. Melody is in the in-between. „Composer“ is a single word. „Castle“ is a single word. „Forest“ is a single word. „A composer lives in a castle in the forest“. You see what happened? Now it’s melody. Do you hear it? Can you feel a difference? One more time. „Composer“; „Castle;“; „Forest“; Those are single words. Like single pitches. „The composer composed a castle in the forests“. Now they got connected, connected to melody. When you weave a carpet, like the one hanging in my castle, the weft connects the warp. When you weave a text, melody is the weft. It connects the in-between. Reading text is making melody. It is like weaving the weft of a carpet.

Why should you care? Remember, I told you in the beginning, this is an urgent letter. Text is read. Text is dead until it’s read. There is no melody in dead text. Text must be read. How do you read it?

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What is your history? Your history is text! How do you read it? What is your future? Your future is text! Between now and your future is text! How do you read it? Between now and your future is text!

Remember, text is like a texture, like fabric. In that analogy, melody is weft, but what is the warp? What is the stabilising grid of text? The single pitches of text? What material is it made of? To produce warp before weaving, you need to cut raw material. Warp is the grid for a carpet, and for that, it must be cut out of raw material. What is the scalpel that cuts the material? And what is the raw material, before it is warp? Meaning, what is, before text happens? You can’t write about it, by its nature. You can’t write about everything that isn’t text. Interesting ... what is everything, that isn’t text? In other words: what is everything? A dusty, ancient book in my library reads: everything is one. Everything is one. Very interesting ...

Remember, reading is weaving. And weaving is connection. Connecting the warp with weft. Connection needs an „in-between“. But if everything is truly one, then there is no „in-between“. There is no in-between in one. Where does the in-between come from? Interesting, Interesting „Interesting“-... ...„-„interest“—„inter esse“(latin)-„being (esse) in the in-between (inter)“. Someone, who is interested, is in the in-between. If everything is one, there is no in-between. Are you interested now? Text needs an in-between. If everything - the raw fabric, the unspeakable - is one, where does the in-between come from?

Remember my castle in the middle of the forest. The forest is raw nature. Wild animals live there. Before I built my castle, I lived in the forest for a long time. I saw the whole forest, the forest as a whole. The forest was everything. I started to cut the forest, with a scalpel. With a scalpel, I cut out words, from what I saw. I cut the whole forest into pieces, single words. Then I re-composed those pieces. I made them one again, to text. They became my castle. I composed my own castle, in which I live now. Weaving words with melody. I cut the words out of everything, in my first act of composition, and then I made them one again. „In the beginning was the word“ - that's from a text in the Bible. -

- „Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the middle of them“. You are young. I’m old. I’m getting weaker while writing, death is near. I’m almost dead. You have a future. Between you and me is text. Read carefully.

What cuts everything into pieces with an in-between? Pieces you can compose to a whole again? it’s...

Suddenly, someone knocks at my door. The real estate agent enters my castle. The real estate agent has the intention to sell my beautiful castle.

He puts a price tag on the old wooden entrance door.
He puts a price tag on the seven sculptures in the hallway.
He puts a price tag on the iron fences.
He puts a price tag on the little tower in the east.
He puts a price tag on the seven beautiful windows in the north.
He puts a price tag on the complicated system of tiny staircases and hallways. He puts a price tag on the round, golden sun above the entrance.

The price tag is a constant, and a constant is a scalpel. He cuts the whole castle apart.
Why is he doing this?
He wants to sell it.

What is the reason for him cutting everything into pieces? I’m dead. Soon I will be part of the whole again.

But you, you have a future. In-between you and me, there is text. Goodbye,
your future self