What do you see in the static of the television set? Is it a small shape? Something rigidly geometric? An isohedron growing new faces, severing old ones. Does it radiate light? Like slime or blood. Oozing dyed fluid into bottom frame and flooding the background. The isohedron levitates in a body of pink and blue… The tv is an arcane and archaic object. When was the last time you saw a set like this one? With a bulky torso and sparse antennae stretching towards the ceiling. A sheath of wood. The screen swelling into an electric belly. And the isohedron hovering behind a layer of static… The video-wall engenders a separation of the cyborg’s two halves (cy and borg, mech and flesh)... The scapulomancer removes your bones and reads their occult emanations. Every body contains an underlying telos. The shell of the mollusc reads forward through time. And yet you are still stuck here, in the present, in front of the television set as it radiates the sickening pitch of this unstable isohedron. Something to lure you closer. So that you might press your face against the monitor, and feel its static. Let the videodrome hand reach out and hold you. Tenderly. You are susceptible to an intimate encounter with the esoteric. An otherworldly hum that festers in the darkness. In the slime and blood of the 2020s… You are a hikikomori projecting your reflection onto the luminous flatline. This faciality a regime of self-capture. Encoding your visage into the database. Archived amongst a library of equally unimportant / uninteresting faces. Your complexion pockmarked by acidic caverns. From whatever flecks have been spit forth from the isohedron’s pores. You are sitting too close… The term TVmancy infers something similar to bibliomancy or cartomancy. Utilizing probability / randomness to extract meaning from the otherworldly. The conversion of a common object or activity into a form of divination. But instead the term more closely resembles fields such as necromancy or technomancy. It is an active arcana. Something capable of casting or enchanting. TVmancy utilizes the arcane object of the television set to control static or create fabricated environments… Open wound, blood spit, a bubbling texture of CMYK pixels… I have little interest in scrying. I want to offer my blood to the blood god. Give them the intimate fluids of my body… You say so little, holding the television set in your arms, walking around with curved posture and an awkward gait… What kind of altar will you build for your deity? Something from diorite / quartzite / marble / sandstone. Or will it be feeble? Maybe of twigs and broken furniture?
The television set has moved beyond its need for power cords and outlets. It is an autonomous body. With modular glands plastered along its oblique faces. Projecting images of the desert under a blue sky. Pink sun radiating heat. My image is weaponized… Your flesh is restored. Your smear is restored… Spread onto the wall to create something that you cannot quite make out. It is a sun or a golden ring. It is speckled with overlay. Singing a song about the holo-scene. A television is a means of projection / a means of convincing fabrication. TVmancy is an art of presenting the unreal as if it were real. Casting a magick of plastic acting and fractalized narrative relationships. This is gland-tyranny. You insist control over my secreting body… If there is a TVmancy, is there a TVmetry? A telemetry (its augmentation) that measures the potency of your power? Or perhaps a necrometry to determine how dead a dead creature really is. The necromancer might attempt to utilize facets of TVmancy in order to resurrect the nonexistent dead. Taking humanoid facsimiles from cinematic spaces and recreating them in this plane. But then is the necromancer any different than a generalized summoner? Are the fake-bodies of the television screen real? Can they die and come back to life? Do they merely mimic the act of doing so? Necrometry finds no reading on the suddenly collapsed protagonist… Your face appears uncannily smooth. It mimics (and perhaps mocks) the isohedron. Its artificial cleanliness. A weaponized faciality. Converting presence into a mode of violence. Subverting the distance / the echoing of computational distance. I am not here, but I am present. I can see what you are doing. TVmancy is not only a casting of certain active magicks, but the casting of the body into the fabricated environment. The casting of the body across space from one node to another. Each screen operating as a threshold between us and them. Trudging feet of the set. Its fifty-pound frame in your arms. Making you sweat and ache. The ambulant air crawling in and out of your throat. Resting on the mound of the tongue. I want to grow one thousand limbs. To hold every set as bushels of wheat… Do you consider yourself a proficient mancer? Capable of doing high-level arcana and memorizing divinated texts? Have you fed the wires into your head? Connected them directly to your neural structures (sacrificed certain integrities) and augmented your vision. Your flesh retreats from your skull. Serpent wires threading through the grooves of your pink matter… Arching over the horizon’s curve.
Adorned in moon-shaped garb. Crescent helmet and cratered gauntlets. The sun radiates through a cycloid slit. Centered over the nose / mouth. Sloping brows. Where the bone curls above the eye… Where the air tastes like sand… TVmancy is an art of turning the dilapidated techno babble of the past into something useful. That can create something fully immersive and tactile. That has not been abstracted by the linguistic infrastructures of the digital. Instead rendered unto a static mesh. I am awaiting a second digital turn… The landscape unfurling. Minor excitations isolated above the waveform. The mesh foaming haptic feedback. You drag your hand over the surface and say that it feels coarse or acidic. Like it’s chewing on your skin. Or at least baring its teeth. Turning the flesh red / raw. Using necrometry to see how close you are to tearing open. Letting everything fall out. Gland-tyranny again. All of the organs that fall from your open abdomen belong to me. TVmancy infers freedom from the body… The televisual landscape can create a new vessel (although limited to its confines). The necromancer finds these bodies and revives them as secondary hosts / tertiary hosts. New bodies to occupy after their first has fallen apart, or is in need of intense repair… A return to early images of the pink desert. Pink sky… Emanating from the television monitor. The set still in your hands. So heavy that you are barely able to hold it up anymore. With atrophying muscles and a cannibalizing stomach. You cast something simple, which pulls you into the image, into the desert, where you can lie down and let the sun bake your flesh. A cycloid eye opening along your spine. Looking into the sun-light rig. And tearing pools of water beneath your gut… The body perpetuates its own nourishment… You burrow your fingers into the sand. Weaving dried kelp into blocks. Which can be used to construct a house or an altar. They can be inscribed and turned into text. Imbued with some kind of linguistic significance. TVmancy is an art that utilizes outmoded technology, but it is not antinaturalist / antimedievalist. The television itself has become a medieval instrument of sorts… The relic of a dark age… another planet identical to yours, but 800 years behind… The landscape suffers a series of data-compressions. Every human sound reduced into a minimalized system of code. The television set mocks your alphanumeric tongue. Coffee dripping through the gaps in your teeth. You cast your magick in leather gloves. Filtering potent occultisms across a thin medium. Either to distill their noise or weaken their effect… What kind of necrometry can we derive from these gloves? Is the animal still present? You summon an endless / procedural topography unto the monitor. And perform hermitage in its dome. Letting the glass surface turn elastic as you press face through its threshold.