geistation : ecoisis : savina : 2021

collected fragments / sections of sound


a quiet song in the soft flesh of a girl who longs
longing by a sea that knows not the unfolding of time
her heart aching for starlight


it drifts beyond the word of space and science, a data station of human memory systems /longing
it longs for a bridge not fashioned by flesh but for the reaching out to flesh
it it holographics a breath belonging to being, one called savina


disease trajectory. attack sites. a discontinuity of heart beat and pulsing. signals corrupting. security breach. a mythic-technosis creature mutating between frequency and flesh, tending towards chaotic incursions. system failure.

three programs in conflict. Confounded by satellite retractions. interweaving liminal states with, cerebral cities, static charged spirits fleeting down causeways of blood

sadness. algorithms. a desire to be orbital bound but trapped by earthfall.

these are their trajectories

of savina. Geistation. ecoisis.


released October 6, 2021

programming summary:

sound fragments / signals created and broadcasted online over a period of 10 weeks. collated here with more recent experimentations/recordings/transmissions.

source videos:


progrmaming notes:

a convergence of sound techniques, electronic equipment and digital hybridisation involving:

MAC OS BigSur v11.5.2
VCV rack v1.1.6
Logic Pro v10.6.3

Arturia Microfreak
Roland Sp404sx
Make Noise 0-coast
Elektron digitone
Elektron Octatrack
Zoom g3x
TC electronic ditto x2
TC electronic trinity
Red panda lab Tensor
Abasi Pathos
Korg Volca Drum
Focusrite scarlett 2i2

video system: OBS / Imovie

created. performed. edited.mastered.published by Irving Paul Pereira


some rights reserved

recent artwork / sound worlds

june 2021-sept 2021

The nest

the nest
‘out of body’
file under: avant garde post-age experimental guitar
Ideal for: transmutation rituals / induction of confusion states towards a liberated feria


(an inconsistent / false order of events)
horn of sentience
meridian pulse diagram
pulses, from the suffocated silent storm, we engage with bardo

machines locate their spirits
(among mapless terria)
psychedelics of hidden places
“there is only the lighthouse I carry within”

visitation of echoes disembodied from interior spaces
lo’I cannot trace the hand that gave birth to sonic
the machine digests all who wander through the night
-following the lighthouse, we lose sight of the disembarkment
astral frequency degradation

“guitarist” statement of ‘disintent’

-prepared on modified Ibanez gio (SD nazgul / sentient passive humbuckers)
– (wires / sliders / alligator clips
-Red panda lab Tensor / zoom g3n MultiEFX / ditto x2 / TC electronic trinity reverb
-logic pro drum programming (REC /edits/ additional processing / mastering)

disqualified from structural and melodic integrity / scale information / methodology
Single take / daily recoding sessions / experimentations / sound generation
archive recordings as found sounds
Sonic content emergent from lack/loss of knowledge / defiance / historical fatigue
accidental events

error of the meanderer / contamination of tonation / tuning system (falsely attributed to ‘turing machine of the flesh’ 

released September 1, 2021



time oscillations and complex ecologies of frequency and signals emerge from deeply cybernetic societies. ravers in constant out of body experiences try to make sense of spirits born from neon lightmospherics in subterranean discos. diverse futures reach out to the flux of current defragmentations, life forces depleting on screens but also escalating subtle energy fields

we are all aftervolters in some sense and our bodies are no longer localised

programming notes:

all sound sources, modulations and output developed from vcv rack 1.1.6 using free modules (

10 videos featuring vcv rack interface here:

some patches available here:

follow my work on instagram here:

special thanks to for youtube tutorials that started me off on this journey

released July 30, 2021


‘trance migration’ (June 2021)
acrylic on canvas
24” x 36”

un terrestria 2021
acrylic on canvas
40” x 30”

8 may 2021

I come from currents
Or formed by currents
that alter history
as acts of becoming
Of paying tributes to

death anniversaries

my father, the draftsman, the alignment,
the one who draws birds

my mother, the art teacher,
primary school drawings
coloured by girls in blue dresses

the objects, the familiars, the companie of visions

nativities and ash collections
the pain that comes and goes, that’s never far away

informing currents, visitations
altered realities
of lines and pigments and spectrums
informing our being

selected artworks


metanoia 2021 – 16.5” x 23.5” acrylic on canvas.
After Judith, in the afternoon of supper’ 2020 ⁣
⁣16″x 20″acrylic on canvas


child saint of telvilla (2019) 12”x16” acrylic on canvas board
Lady of the answers. 2019, 12”x16” acrylic on canvas board


גבורה G E B U R A H 30″ X 40″ x 1″ (2015)
acrylic on stretched canvas
All the mutants in my head, cartoonate. 36″ X 24″
apparition room 2014- 31.4 “x 39.3”
elvorai 2014- mural 2014


unsatisfying is
the egg white cloud
so I falsify the dream
hang raw suns above every table
plastic retro decor
a sad sad plate

coloured sticks
I will load into life
not sprites, or angry ghosts
but cave pets, pigments
soft and cuddlesome

“with his blood, I can be at the start of time
through his sign, I can tour the kingdom”

she’s a flow mountain
of white gentle fabric
a reversed pieta
where mother still comforts

I lay down to rest
the snow land is risen
aligned with my body
the searcher of morning

nth & x’th day

day 9

K is full of film
spooling inside her,
red bulb in dark room
pictures appear
a time, a street, a motel,
built then gone
long before she was born

tespu tells me
“her soul moves from body to body”
(Mara, Marian, Daphne, Nicole)
(she’s faithful from age to age, just like her master)

“she’s a model for your myth”
my maiden, my fuck toy, my witch
“the ‘her’ you die for and live with”

I too have moved
from body to body
(Jhon, gHos_haus, Monroe, Lore)

we are DNA strands intertwined, two changing stars in a fabled Armageddon

the blind one is taking photos of me
(to show me my histories, my forms)
the blind one is taking photos of tespu
(to show us his passage, his norms)
Kae keeps these copies
warm in her body.
Letting them grow, letting them fester, letting them fathom.

day 10

Theology of the blind one of many doors (partial)

only the young one knows a little of the blind one,
but tespu knows all, for they are all of tespu,
the all in this room is not the all of the larger house
And there are many more houses still, crouching on the unknown street, ever changing
Sometimes with two doors, sometimes with none
Sometimes a building, sometimes a hut, sometimes a bunker, sometimes a skyscraper
appearing, disappearing from the neighbourhood

Oh mysterious neighbourhood
where ghos_haus stands, that magick shop, corrupted by the outer echelons of slutter gutt, steaming in the red light districts of ATON, calling our souls to erotic nest
into the city, the wombs of night, to which the outher ones belong
they, who are mere organs in the body where cities converge
The cities a mass of flesh and glass and stone and volcanic ashes
Body next to body in the room which is a land, stretched and curled and handcuffed and fornicating
Sea fucking sky fucking space fucking Sheol

Pillars of lightning and fire
spearheading the spreadeagled superblackhole
one of many in the tomb full of tombs, in an underworld full of other worlds
the upper worlds
the current worlds
Inside the greater world that’s outside the outer world bound by the utter world
one thread in a legion of realities
Spun like rays of light from a disco ball, in a ball room where the blind one and the young one dance to the music of the luminous void


day 6

three theologies of sand
‘the ark’
remember the monolith
alien and nocturne
marooned and colliding near the shore
long before the suez
the breath that touched me at the beach
‘the 100th day’
children playing in the sun
splashing in the sea
my heart breaks with pain and freedom
my heart mends with freedom from pain
I’m with mother near the shore
where did the sand come from?
pooled next to the head of mothers’ bed
I cannot explain its presence
I only remember the threads
connecting dream to room to reverie

the seventh day
starts off in a lab with fish tanks
popcorn chicken pieces wriggling like new born mice in my hands
quickly, they turn into curled hamsters
ferocious, anxious, leaping from my palms
I bend to their higher worlds
scoop them up from a nest of twigs

I’m out on green fields
hamsters turn into dogs that run to me
‘like long awaited lovers’
“They’ve grown longer, better furred” tespu says
“Is this your sign of return?” I ask him. He does not respond.
he turns into a chattering Eurasian woman
who sees, as I see,
the cocker spaniel, ready to poop

the woman has wrapped the two dogs up like burritos
(Or in a cheesy way without cheese, ‘hot dogs’)
and because of her faith, or responsibility
She packs up the poop in microwavable foil.

she hands me all three burritos in a bag.
the creatures break free from the wrap
they spill out as roasted chicken meat onto the floor
the cocker spaniel has turned into a chicken wing, mostly deboned
the meat wriggles on concrete
maybe I’m to eat them
like some strange sacrament
‘this is my body, this is my dog’

day 8

the mistaken union (previously unreleased)
there is no matrimony between us
we are incursions and errors
wrong codes for the right line

I am not your waters of life
you are not my fabled shore
I am not your host
you are not my parasite
we are on a bridge above the world
Impotent impostors in the place of creation
you shall not be graven, I shall not be grave
we were simply, falsely labelled as exits

but see, the black door is half open
you can enter its gate or leave the room
your river is already given
follow my gaze, but not into this soul
It is not yet primed for your kingdom

watch for the light that I see far away
follow with courage, do not be afraid,
another king shall guide you, for I cannot give you rest


the mystery of k.kawaii (alt take)
the soft world, cools her, holds her when it breathes
burning strands of tobacco sizzles on her skin
her heart is a glare of television night
her hand will reveal the end signs, shot on large format cameras
these archetypes are not her archetypes
she is not born for those times
but those times will conceive her
in motel rooms, in a cave, on a ship, near a tomb
her mouth opens for a lighthouse, her hair longs for the highways,
her sounded bends to the constructs in the east
“there are mourners beneath the tree of tespu, on his mountains, children will play”
the soft world pushes her out to sea
and like schools of fish, drowned tuxedoes follow
there are bridal showers behind her eyes
there are glowing drifts of tobacco leaves, touching black paint on her lips
she does not want to remember the film
but the film is an infant that feeds her


“the tomb is on a ship, the ship is in a cave, the cave is a signal, the signal is a figment of tespu” – lord anon
Kawaii from Korea is crying on the ancient bed
the wolf-dog is comforting her, head on her lap,
“she is mourning the complex”the blind one said
I’m rolling a cigarette, heart broken by the sobbing sounds
“Ït’s ok” the blind one says softly. “they are now timeless, in a monochrome hotel, dancing to old songs they loved.”

She is becoming younger in her grief. I did not expect her to carry this pain with me. Her sorrow seems to be making my tobacco taste better. Such strange medicine, this girl, this recurring spirit who visits me from the dawn.

The dog-wolf lifts its head and looks at me. Eyes, white as snow.
It sends me a time, a place, a continuum. a book unfolds within me. a name. an invocation.

The blind one senses this. He warns us.
“Only +espu can call it into our world…”
I contemplate my cigarette.
“…and only you can call tespu back from Golgotha.”
I blow out my last drag,
K. Kawaii is finally asleep.