Chaos in Silence- remixmanifesto

Dreams and basic nighttime processes generate the most creative sounds. It is the dreamscape that we turn for release from the everyday. The everyday: a hemorrhage of stimuli in the brain. These stimuli are the basis of remix, both consciously and subconsciously. I focus on the later.

Rest, or the absence of direct stimuli, occurs in the darkness, perhaps because we cannot see physically. However, in the silence of darkness, we filter through thought; we revisit stimuli. Our minds are active in an entirely new way within the dreamscape, a subconsciality that man has yet to decipher. So, there is chaos in the subconscious.

Even the idea of relaxation is lacking in definition. True relaxation, barring active relaxation activities, implies the absence of stimuli: an escape from the everyday. When this occurs, our minds wander, filtering through the stimuli we have experienced, constantly remixing. The absence of stimuli causes the brain to be stimulated. There is chaos in silence.

We believe that original thought is formed in times of reflection. However, we ignore the fact that human beings are unable to form purely original thought. His mouth and my mouth where voices collide, but whose thought is whose? Where does ownership lie? Everything is rooted in stimuli. Everything is remix. And while two people can reflect on the same object or idea, their regurgitative ideas will impossibly be identical. This is the result of our subconscious signifying systems: the immeasurable compound of stimuli that we have been exposed to throughout our entire lives. This is what makes us who we are.

So, does this mean that remix is chance? If we view remix as a subconscious act, yes. We do not control our dreams. We do not control where our minds wander when we allow them to. Riffing and dipping and eating salad with our fingers.

If remix is subconscious, can there be intention? Is everything truly a brainchild of various copyrighted material? As an individual, I am vulnerable in the darkness. As an artist, I question intention and ownership. As both entities, I often feel misunderstood. Perhaps this feeling is birthed in the presence of excessive reflection, excessive remix. But in a world constructed from remixed material, can this be avoided? I remix others’ perception of my creative work and myself. As a creative, does one remix more effectively? Is that why I am perceived as “strange?”

What is my remix? Who the fuck knows. Because I just might write you an essay on the inherent similarities between dead puppies and my broken garbage disposal. I am misunderstood once again. Perhaps even by myself.

It is me, myself, and the other sitting in the darkness: the darkness where the most creative sounds are generated. As much as I would love the other to get off my fucking back, I must accept that it defines me. The other is constantly with me, though we have never met. The other forces me to blossom and wilt. The other drives my subconscious remix: the ebbs and flows of this twisted, beautiful life.