Altin DeRenart

@altinfox.bsky.social

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He/Him • Fox/Foxs | 🏳️‍🌈 | 🇹🇹 | 24 Smol Subversive Critter ΘΔ🦊 in Columbus Amateur Poet • Leading Philosofur • Speculative Theologian • Prolific Doodler • Guerrilla Policy Analyst Will periodically interact with mature accounts and employ mature poetics🔞.

A small rabbit whose head is illuminated by gold foil narrowly escapes the jaws of a large wolf. A quote from Richard Adams’s Watership Down captions the work below, reading, “But first they must catch you”.
A feral canid stands below a sky of several burning (falling?) stars in an open plain in the dead of night. Their back is arched and their gaze is fixed upward toward the sky. Below them is a caption which reads “I AM THIRSTY & DYING; BUT GIVE ME A DRINK”. As an Episcopalian, I am given to think of the dying Christ’s request for a drink from a nearby Roman legionary. To my mind, then, that these words leave the mouth of an animal elevates the created world to the status of the divine, representing the deep-seated immanent presence of the One in all those which live in the created, enchanted world. Inasmuch as my interpretation reveals to my wits, I read here nothing short of an invitation for the anthropic gaze to perform a mitzvah for the created world as yet it lays dying. As a holothere, the pain of creation below the anthropic gazes sits with me near constantly and grates against my soul; its crises are mine. To that end, I feel seen in viewing this work, which goes above and beyond in capturing the Franciscan tradition’s emphasis on immanent Beauty within the individual created subject.
A cartoonish marker drawing on cardboard of a sleepy fox smoking a cigarette.
These days are long And the nights? They linger Like smoke in the beams Of his unfinished basement And what remains? In ashen times But birdsong in winter And dawning at dusk And rainfall in August And sundry, deathless lies? These days? They are long And these nights? They linger Like hiding black threads In his silvering hair And what remains? In greying days But times made timeless And verses unsung And works unauthored And sundry, halted truths? These days? They are mine And the nights that follow Fall to me, the same Where I might break, in better days His silence at the keyboard To read and play, in timely tune: The rose that Springs in winter And lands which know no dusk And forward-lilting, metered pace And sundry, latent gifts.
“It is the genius in us who is capable of ridding us of resentment by exercising what Nietzsche called ‘the faculty of oblivion,’ not as a way of denying the past but as a way of reshaping it through our own originality. Then we forget that we have been forgotten by an audience, and remember that we have forgotten our freedom to play.”
Section that forbids reporting of global effects: “e. ensuring that the global effects of a rule, regulation, or action shall, whenever evaluated, be reported separately from its domestic costs and benefits, in order to promote sound regulatory decision making and prioritize the interests of the American people;”
A still taken from Disney’s animated classic Robin Hood in which the title character is restrained by means of a rope and metal collar.
Metaphysics keeps me warm at night… because if this Hilbert space descriptive account of reality jawn is real? I get to say “Foxiness is an eternal form evolving whilst it interacts with matter. Consequently, it is a projection from without materiality. Therefore, there is no reason to assume its distribution uniformly belongs to but one standard body/body schema. Nor does it necessarily follow that one body be described by the distribution of only one form. Therefore, I can be fox 🦊 Q.E.D.
Altin’s illustration of how fox measures flours whilst making bread, in volumetrically uneven inches of flour (you might say these volumes exhibit logarithmic growth, decaying increases).
A loaf of bread with a face baked into the surface stares goofily (menacingly?).
A funny image of a cartoon wolf wearing a bow tie, a king’s crown, and a monocle, captioned “Too abstract for for sex.”
A pencil sketch of a happy dog with their tongue out and ears perked up. They are absolutely beaming.
A discord message where I make the case that no amount of law will wipe out us shape shifters and those among us embracing transontologies.
Title: Lupercalia Stylus-wielding silver-haired wolf Of silvered words sabotaging My transcendental fixations And logos-spermaticos-dreams of form! Take this, My left shoulder and Soften it with your tears to Tear it with your teeth And force self-feeling through My prime matter, as it shreds Whilst you teach it your will to know: Dynamic beyond category- Drive wedges through My ax's eye and Delimit, Negate, In-Form, Ensoul! This blade's course toward Your pith of Knowing and Give the cursèd tree Its completion in "becoming" —
The view from Castle Sands at dawning, St Andrews, Scotland
The silhouette of a hand sprawls across a dimly lit ceiling, a prayer rope dangling therefrom.
A rat ponders a the glow of a lit candle while thinking about Deleuze and Guattari
All five volumes of the Summa Theologiae sit on Altin’s bookcase beside the ‘The Religious Roots of Rebellion’ and Augustine’s ‘City of God.’
Partially assembled Lego Fox tilts head up at viewer curiously.
Altin holds the Lego red fox set kits family sent in the mail for a pleasant surprise!
Several modern theology and social justice texts sit arranged in no particular order on my book case.
A stack of mostly feminist/liberation theology texts sit on my disorganized bookcase.