Presentation"The Temple of Crap"

@ MediamaticIgnite 29

'one of the best ways to cutyourself short as a humanbeing is to use jobdescriptions as lifedescriptions'

So hi, I'm Ebel and this is mydesigner story

...Once upon a time there wasa lad who wanted to be a greatdesigner. So he went to designschool, read some self helpbooks, and decided to write aself help book for designers.

This was the lad's dorm

Many self help books claimthat what you imagine willmanifest itself into reality,and that you need be carefullfor what you wish for.

One day, the designer woke up.He was in a Temple of Crap.

Every self help book has a"secret" which you need tofigure out yourself. So here'sthe designer one: Feed cars.

Fertiliser, plastic, and allthe other stuff, they're justresidue from petrolproduction...

...and as a designer, you'llreshape this waste fromfeeding cars into objects ofdesire. Like cars for example.

The physical proces of desirecreation is called work...

...a process of both desirecreation and fulfillment,often taking place underflourescent light.

Some call it captivity, someslavery, then again, that'show desire works; It needs aprisoner

Whilst working, you mightconsider this: One day you'llbe dead. Being dead, there areno deadlines. No managers,taxes, mortage, car payments,crisis, problems, antagonistsor protagonists. Or at leastnot regarding your work.

Being a dead designer, doingthe whole ashes to ashes,flesh to worms thing, yourdesigns might turn out tooutlive you after all:

Your design heritage is nowcalled waste and people haveto pay to get rid of it...

...as one day, you rebrandedyour ecosystem into "Themarket", placed your productsinto "this market", and usedan intergenerational "finance"skeem to have your kids payfor this operation which youproudly called "your job"...

...but not after raising themto the "Religion of Crap":

"Every interhuman interactioncan, and must be, intermediatedby a consumeable product"

Or, more bluntly: Buy crap. Itmakes you suck less.

The whole idea of becoming agreat designer had somethingto do with providing, andcreating an enviroment forraising a great family.

Rathter, the enviroment nowejaculated crap into itself.

Reading a few self help booksin collega, IIt was obvious such a bookwouldn't make Oprah. Nor makemoney. Or get me a job.

People that don't make moneyare sometimes called artistsand they're sometimes offeredspace that wont rent out.

Being an artist, you don'tdesign anymore; You'repractising materialphilosophy. Or tell storieslike that whilst doingsubstance abuse; Which allkinda are the same.

It was obvious such a bookwouldn't make Oprah. Nor makemoney. Or get me a job.

People that don't make moneyare sometimes called artistsand they're sometimes offeredspace that wont rent out.

Many, to most of yoursurroundings, wether they'reyour house, workplace, food,city, furniture or the conceptof reality "as seen on TV",were once merely dreamed insomeone's imagination.

With the advance of cheap CAD/CAM, the path from imaginationto material reality just keepsgetting shorter and shorter...

...which does, if you'reexperiencing this process fromwithin a Temple of Crap, raisequestions like "why does mostof my creations consist ofimmediate waste?"...

...and if reality itselfactually is just anothermanifestation of imagination,could it be that pollution isthe messenger rather then themessage? But still bears amessage though?

Looking through the window ofthe closed papershop, whilstwriting a book in pdf, there'san awakening regarding theamount of stuff we "need";It's less for the samefunctionality. A lot less

Regarding the Temple, it oncewas time to leave. But first,the Crap had to leave. It washard getting rid off all theCrap; Not because it was inthe Temple, but for it beingin my heart and mind, and theexperience felt like a breakup

Finally, we left, leaving theTemple empty, and therefor nonexcistent.Did the designer created TheTemple of Crap or the Templeof Crap the designer?

Hi, I'm Ebel and this was mydesigner story. Thank you