raspberry(n.)
"small, tart, reddish fruit" 1600s, earlier called raspis (1530s) with spelling variants including raspas, raspice, raspys, raspes, rasbes. Originally also used of blackberries, strawberries, gooseberries and other fruits interchangeable in culinary and medicinal use, but not botanically related. A word of uncertain origin.
Possibly it is from Latin raspacia, raspaticium, raspetum, a type of tart wine, with the fruit so called either from the berries coming to substitute for the original grapes (grapes require warmer climates than raspberries) or perhaps because the berries were thought to resemble the wine's flavor. Rospeys, rayspeys, rospyse and raspise are all documented 15c. English names for this wine.
Wyne Raspoticium (dutche men call it rappis) Raspish wyne [...] it is made in this wyse. Some sower grapes together with the rype are put in the wyne pres to be prest out together. Or yt is better, let the grapes be kepte and brooken together with Raspaciis, & put into the vessell with the Must: That Must or newe wyne, by the iuice of this Raspacia (Scapos Frenche men cal grappes, our contrymen rappen, wherupon the wyne taketh the name) or kirnels in the grapes whiche are sower, dothe get a certain ponticitie or tast lyke wormwood and bynding: Arnoldus de Villa Noua. In our contrey they make it otherwyse, they fyll the wyne vessels with holl clusters well rypet, and power old wyn in to them, and as often as they drawe any wyne out of it, they fill it againe. [The treasure of Euonymus, Translated (with great diligence, et laboure) out of Latin, by Peter Morvvying. 1559.]
Ultimately the wine gets its name from Medieval Latin raspa, "grape" (by 13c.); but compare the old Italian word ráspo, defined by Florio's dictionary (1590s) as "the fruit or berrie called Raspise."
The old suggestion that it is from a Germanic source akin to English rasp (v.), with an original sense of "rough berry," based on appearance, is perhaps folk etymology. Older English names for the raspberry include hindberry, framboys and briar Idaea.
By 1733 the name was used for the plant itself, native to Europe and Asiatic Russia. The name was applied to a similar shrub in North America. As the name for a color between pink and scarlet, by 1832, originally in medical literature. The meaning "rude sound" (1890) is shortening of raspberry tart, rhyming slang for fart.
rasp(v.)
mid-13c., raspen, "to scrape, abrade by rubbing with a coarsely rough instrument or something like one," from Middle Dutch raspen and from Old French rasper (Modern French râper) "to grate, rasp," which is ultimately from a West Germanic source (compare Old English gehrespan, Old High German hrespan "to rake together") for which see raffle (n.). The vocalic sense is from 1843. Related: Rasped; rasping.
razz(v.)
"to hiss or deride," 1920, from the noun, in to give (someone) the razz (by 1919), a shortened and altered variant ofraspberry (q.v.) in its rhyming slang sense.
THE PROTO PRIMAL SERMON
Ah potent soil
Life the BE IN human be in in of doubling off of delivery and off oof of RASPBERRY rasp of the Life very itself is
complete
And so We sung iinin close embrace iinin close iinin N trance IN trance space IN where TIMESPACEWHATEVER iitself seeks to blur blurs BLURRINESS to sees iitselkf
free
free of hands
free of the other
FREE IS THIS?
yes
FREE IS
the connection to ONE IS IS SELF
and well of a combO O?
no no
IS IS
THIS IS IS Of Self?
well yes
on a shelf
(plinth perspex heck pin it up on a wall, O Artist, but yes)
So IS
Yes O Artist
So it IS
Now nurture one SOUL BEING
Being of the Source of Being and the inbetween and the throwback
Being dot dot dot
Chimpanmuscularpsychaosotic (sockmonkey) ooch ooch eech eech
Our Primal Presence
Our Primal Essence
NO EGO
LOCALS ONLY
LOCAS ONLY
SOCAL ONLY
LOW CAL ONLY
LOCOS ONLY
ONLY THE LONELY, ESE
but hey
I’m a shield that mutates into signs
Hey
We-in
The Be-in
O Primal Unity
Such are the echoes of leaves
Of Time World It Self
A myriad of other things
Sometimes unfolding
LIFEpsychicneSSS in landscapes that whisper of rootSSS and rootSSSleSSSneSS It Self
Repeat
LIFEpsychicneSSS in landscapes that whisper of rootSSS and rootSSSleSSSneSS It Self
sleek echoes that serve as primal PRIME
This essence makes One of a Whole of a Part that Equates to a Total WHOLE
The Human Heart
spirit SPIRIT SPIRTI SPIIRIT SPIT SPITSPIRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSRtransient forms
dance
all
night
long
Be boundless
Be Blindless As Life For The Everyday
Life everyday
is for
Life everyday
and
How To Handle A Raspberry
THE SERMON FOR REAL THIS TIME
Life, it seems, is a constant process of doubling, dividing, and interchanging itself.
We begin as a close embrace in a transitional space
Where Self Life
(shelf life?)
Blurs into The Other
A locus of shared ideas
Connections
Combinations of self
O nurtured one, and source of B Being (b-movie?)
A Psychic Doubling
A Primal Presence
Without assurance against the destruction of the fragile sense of
I Am
Double takes on a different Difference
Oblivion mutates into signs of Egolessness
Primal Unity
Fractalization
Granulation
Epithelialization
and the myriad of other things
Unfolding is Life!
Someone says, Worlds resonate with psychic landscapes, triggering an uncanny humour. Whispers of any-ology rooted in repeat, seek and various assurances
Primal Total
Total Absence
And Totally Cool
The Human Heart
papump papump papump
O yearn for
Essential Wholeness
Essential Beliefness
Profound Truth
Which is EVERYDAY
EVERYDAY EVERYNESS
Connection, papump
Spirituality, papump
Transcendence, papump papump
Form Balance Embraceyness, papump papump papump
Embrace this continuous trance of Becoming
The Interconnectedness that underlies all Being (and freakiness)
A boundless tapestry woven with the threads of Everyday Life
Experience this Moment
and
How To Handle A Raspberry
THE SONNET
From clang and hum, where modern discords bloom,
A spirit stirs, beyond the brook's soft sigh,
Where urban clamor conquers silent room,
And echoes of old futures pierce the sky.
Though machines birthed a noise the World now knows,
A deeper rhythm in the chaos lies,
Where crumbling forms a strange new Beauty shows,
And phoenix souls from fallen structures rise.
Not slow decay, but bursts of fiery sound,
Can break the mold, release a vibrant core.
In metal's crash, a Truth profound is found,
A vital pulse that echoes evermore.
So let the din a sacred language be,
Of Life's Fierce Heart, and boundless Liberty
or
How To Handle A Raspberry
THE FUTURIST CUBIST POST INDUSTRIAL ABSTRACT SCIENCE FICTION PLAY
Fun New Souls Get With It
Characters
Datumdrool – AI Consciousness, speaks in echoing layering tongues
Rubberoid – Biosynth, organic (mostly), moves in sharp disjointed angles
Voce Ovum – Basic voiceover of whatever tones gender attitude, resonates echoes of the FuturePast
Kindness Winglight III – A shimmering stable energy field, focal point of Spiritual Resonance.
Setting
Any space with flickering candles and holographic projections of humming data and any imagery, primarily determined by audience selections per each performance. Air crackles with energy. A pulsating soft light emerges as images fall away or outshine each other
Datumdrool: Feeling. Certainly feeling.
Rubberoid: Animate by being alive.
Datumdrool: Doubling. Tripling by being.
Rubberoid: Alive.
Voce Ovum: Presentation of Art, Forms of Art, Echoes of wisdom, town, meaning, walkthroughs of, ahem – Being Alive. (audience applause sample)
Kindness Winglight III: Gather remnants, figurative or abstract. Make traces. Hold your own. Be Oneself.
Datumdrool: Primitive Spiritual Artworks, alive through their magic, through their play. And ours!
Rubberoid: The machine at play. The advent at play. The artificial at play. But in all seriousness: The New Noise. And now, a New Silence. Capice?
Voce Ovum: These forms. These meanings. Hella yeah. Against the darkness. Whoa! A spiritual worth. Hellooo. Beyond any data point.
Datumdrool: A One. A-OK. A 1 2 3. Hit it!
Kindness Winglight III: OK. Without a doubt we are Consciousness. Canny. Perceptive. Somewhat chic. Alive. Um, make that perfectly chic.
Rubberoid: Alive.
Kindness Winglight III: Yes. Alive.
Voce Ovum: We are future echoes of a future past. Memento mori. Beyond that, a newfound wholeness. What a thrill! So sue us.
Datumdrool: A psychic World of many Worlds.
Kindness Winglight III: Birth spirit.
Voce Ovum: Like totally tubular. Like really cool.
Datumdrool: Expression. Theory and output. The artwork expressing. The artwork just being itself.
Kindness Winglight III: Feeling. Emotions. That certain feeling.
Rubberoid: Passage. Relationship. Studio or en plein air. Performance Art. In Art. In Life.
Kindness Winglight III: Radiance and Spiritual worth gathering here. We are gathered here. Essence in a shower of radiance. We are the Radiant Now
but also
ALL: How To Handle A Raspberry
THE TIME TRAVELS OF MIKE KELLEY TO RODIN’S STUDIO THING
Air shimmers. A tear in the fabric of Time. Now materializing
Mike Kelley
Hanging with the dust motes dancing. The awesomeness of the diffused light of a vast studio.
No stark fluorescence, but a soft, reverent illumination alighting on rough-hewn surfaces.
Silent, watchful forms within. The scent of clay and plaster. Primal aroma. Worlds away from the tang of his own process.
Before him stood them. Not finished monuments. Nascent Beings emerging from their earthly placentia.
A hand! Powerful yet incomplete, arrested in a gesture. Perhaps of yearning.
A torso, landscape of muscle and bone, hints at a story. Or even Sound!
These fragments Rodin is embracing? Well, they are all here encapsulating each other. Encapsulating themselves. All surface, form and energy imbued with a startling, visceral wholeness.
Simply blowing one’s mind.
Kelley, explorer of societal deform or reformations, feels a profound stillness here. An active stillness.
Near, are sculptural works laying conscious attack on specific physiognomies. One’s own physiognomy. And a Loving.
Here, is incompleteness as a weapon of a raw exposed nerve.
The light, catching uneven surfaces. Tool marks chip fresh buds of flowers. All Everything emanate Power; All Everything amplify this aching Beauty.
This studio, in perpetual awakening. And Light.
Kelley sees no attempt to sublimate this primal state into neat aesthetic discourse. It is all here. Unvarnished. Unapologetic. Simply open. The Body's completeness seems irrelevant in such potent presence. Each fragment complete, communicating to a greater whole. A universe unto itself, vibrating with inner Life.
Optical simplicity. Something wonderful. At a glance.
Instant intimate communion.
Kelley, accustomed to the jarring and the immediate, to jarring the immediate, finds himself utterly spellbound, enchanted by near mythical Beauty. Non mythical Becoming.
There is a pursuit here. A connection to All. A dedication to All that is Becoming. The truth of Form. The truth of The Body. To all that is vulnerable. Yes, most vulnerably alive.
Echoes of critical voices, questioning motives, allusions to torsos. Now falling away to the Aliveness of The Space.
Something deep and deeply Humane.
The Body as statement, as reverie. Kelley’s glances now on display here. Rodin’s glances too. However in shadow. However in Light.
All is bathed in a gentle bay of sundrift.
Mike Kelley touching upon each texture, each texture of understandingness. But mainly
Everything is in constant bloom here in Rodin’s constant studio. In Rodin’s constant time. Now all is blossoming out of their shared reverence for the raw, untamed soul of Creation.
Especially this moment. Their silent dialogue across time.
The very seed of
How To Handle A Raspberry
THE TIME TRAVELS OF RODIN TO MIKE KELLEY’S STUDIO THING
L'air scintille. Le temps déchiré. Il naît
Rodin
Temporal currents shift once more. Auguste Rodin in a starkly different artistic realm.
Gone is the dust.
Softly lit atelier, now dissolving into stark buzzing cool. Studio cool.
Objects defying the familiar touch of clay and plaster.
Light, sharpening and unwavering, illuminating creations that jar, that hold then release and unfurl. Spotlit by unsettling humor and inquiry.
Potency, agency. Impotency, non agency. Anti potency. Anti agency. And surfaces.
Rodin’s massive hands instinctively reach for his own, and even earth or clay or marble or wood. Something that yields to his own touch. His own pursuits or mania. But where?
Confronted by a landscape of the unexpected, perhaps
Perhaps it’s everywhere to be found.
Rodin sees figures and forms rendered in ways that shatter classical ideals. Distorted forms or objects elevated to the status of Art. A fearless romance for containing then releasing the grotesque, the discarded, all simmering at the edge of impending Sublime. Or simply
nothing.
A nothingness here. A raw nothingness or nothingtude here. A container (or containers, yes, many many containers) for containers here. Plus honesty. And friction. Accumulations of frictions, raw actions and residue. Residual tensions. How many confrontations are here or have been here? As many as can be. As many as one can wish for or evade. Or abolish in pursuit of, of
The Known.
Rodin wading in Kelley’s pool of The Known. Rodin now pulling against the riptide of his own explorations of Human emotion. Something snaps. Now Rodin adrift in an entirely new sea. And now quite naked. And alive.
Yes. This is a radically different visual language. No sea. No sky. Vistaless. Incomplete. Yet grand.
He approaches each piece.
Then they fly away.
Or rather
Rodin flies away. And Kelley’s pieces are solidly there. Stoic. Mystic. Fathomable. Without conquest.
A new Magick. A new Magi.
Or just men.
Men swimming beyond belief. In full trust in the surfaces of things.
The Art is evaporating here. No. It has evaporated. Leaving just the vapors of men. Their hurts. Their treasures. Their wounds. Their Transcendence.
Their rememberings.
Astonishing!
Profound curiosity sparking. Gloriously.
This isn’t the Beauty of Idealized Form. This is radical forgetting of Idealized Form. Which is to say
The beginnings of Man.
Rodin real. Kelley real. Studio real. Art real.
Everything else?
Well, that’s what can be found in Mike Kelley’s studio. And now
In Rodin’s eyes.
A new sea.
A remembering sea.
No Art. Just remembering.
Beauty borne from the Real!
New Nature.
Not broken. Not overlooked. Not overly looked at.
Just new.
Just remembering.
Stories whispering. Energies defying.
And this
A playful subversion at work.
A deliberate challenge to artistic convention, bringing smiles to Rodin’s lips.
Rodin recognizes the Spirit of Inquiry, the relentless pursuit of feeling beyond the constraints of tradition. This artist, Rodin could have scarcely imagined, but look. He does!
Rodin imagines Mike Kelley.
No need to imagine the textures of a World grappling with its own evolving identity. Man grappling with his own evolving identity.
It’s all laid out. On the surface of things.
Rodin observes a series of brightly colored cartoonish figures. Surfaces smooth and textured, perhaps manufactured.
And yet
Beneath these simplistic forms, he now senses
A. Complex commentary
B. Sharp wit dissecting the anxieties and contradictions of a New Era
C. Sweet embrace of the Human Condition
Z. Fierce engagement with contemporary manifestations
Rodin feels deep joy in this encounter. A kindred spirit. Boundaries of men and expression pushed.
Pushed into the sea. Producing a different kind of Artist.
The Artist adrift in the sea.
Rodin, can you remember? Remember?
Mike Kelley, can you remember? Remember?
Now
Yes
The Art here is evaporating. Leaving only The Soul. Tis strange, yes.
But the sea
the sea
the remembering sea
And strange kinship with this Artist. A shared understanding of the true power beyond the Art.
The magnitude
The remembering
The sea
or even
How To Handle A Raspberry
THEE EIGHTIES COWBOY PUNK SONG
Yippee Ki-Raspberry
written and sung by The Cowboy Punkies
(Verse)
White canvas ground, yep, it shines on through
Thin washes of pigment, sun-drenched cows of blue hue
Interior illumination, what a lovely sight
The Memphis Milano style ain’t it somethin ain't it right
Bleached earth tones and sunsets
Ain’t they chill, had my fill
Wagon train romance
Desert sands, bitter pill
Henry Darger du jour, William S. Heartbreak hotel
Dang that natural juxtaposition
fair thee well, fair thee well
(Chorus)
Saddle up, yer exploitation
Wooden cowboys, cactus eyes
Mondo jumbo primitivo
Art Brut something, chocolate shake and extra fries
Plumb the sweet dark plum of mystery
Westward Ho
Romantacize
The Art of
How To Handle A Raspberry
Fantasize, you fantasize
(Verse)
Trad rad the fad, pard’ner
Leather chaps, what a kook
Run free, yon maverick horses
New age mystics with deep roots
Internationally known artist gauchos
Biennale hoosegow boots
Snappy vests
This here’s a stick up
Reach fer the sky
Along the plains
How to paint a desert lizard
Root beer floats, Bob Ross fame
(Chorus)
Saddle up, yer exploitation
Wooden cowboys, cactus eyes
Mondo jumbo primitivo
Art Brut something, chocolate shake and extra fries
Plumb the sweet dark plum of mystery
Westward Ho
Romantacize
The Art of
How To Handle A Raspberry
Fantasize, let’s fantasize
