The World of the (Non-) Euclidean Central “I”

The World of the (Non-) Euclidean Central ”I” [42×29,7cm, 2013]

The  (Non-) Euclidean Central “I”. Something so abstract, elusive and yet so intimate.  Inside: the perfect sphere, round and immeasurable, protected by the glass pyramid of calculation. The inner walls of the fleshly host incrusted with calcifications, crystallizations, soft matter transformed into hard, dead matter. Undertake one bungling step through the apartment of your self with the lights turned off.

[…] after a while there was a further clicking in the receiver, and I strained my ears to listen. Again I called down, “Warren, are you there?”, and in answer heard the thing which has brought this cloud over my mind. I do not try, gentlemen, to account for that thing—that voice—nor can I venture to describe it in detail, since the first words took away my consciousness and created a mental blank which reaches to the time of my awakening in the hospital. Shall I say that the voice was deep; hollow; gelatinous; remote; unearthly; inhuman; disembodied? What shall I say? It was the end of my experience, and is the end of my story. I heard it, and knew no more. Heard it as I sat petrified in that unknown cemetery in the hollow, amidst the crumbling stones and the falling tombs, the rank vegetation and the miasmal vapours. Heard it well up from the innermost depths of that damnable open sepulchre as I watched amorphous, necrophagous shadows dance beneath an accursed waning moon. And this is what it said:
“YOU FOOL, WARREN IS DEAD!”

 

(Howard Phillips Lovecraft, The Statement of Randolph Carter, 1919

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