artć + societate / arts + society #38, 2011 20 lei / 11 €, 14 USD - idea

– Interesantæ relaflie între tine øi societatea asta!
– Da, încæ sînt în cæutæri, încerc sæ înfleleg øi rolul meu de artist, de producætor de
obiecte culturale, producætor de noi perspective øi puncte de vedere. Øi nu înfleleg
de ce trebuie sæ produc ceva. De ce nu pot decît consuma? Oricum lucrul æsta îmi
place cel mai mult. De ce trebuie ca dupæ ce am consumat cærfli, filme, reviste, lucræri
de artæ, de design interior, pæreri øi comentarii, sæ îmi spun pærerea faflæ de ceea
ce am consumat? Eventual, fiindcæ sînt artist, într-o altæ lucrare de artæ?
– Pæi pentru cæ existæ un echilibru pe care îl gæseøti øi în naturæ sau în budism, calea
de mijloc sau poteca auritæ, în care vezi cæ ceea ce se consumæ trebuie produs la loc,
cæ oricum echilibrul æsta e destul de precar øi cæ dacæ se balanseazæ prea mult apar
tot felul de calamitæfli naturale. Este un principiu de bazæ, nu? Øi fiindcæ totul funcflioneazæ
pe baza acestui principiu de atîflia ani, înseamnæ cæ e ceva de capul lui. Spune-mi
despre literaturæ, am væzut peretele bleu cu întîlnirea „accidentalæ“ dintre tine
øi Virginia Woolf. De ce V. Woolf?
– În expoziflia din Amsterdam am prezentat doar luna octombrie. Dintr-o puræ
coincidenflæ, am dat, chiar la începutul lunii, peste cærflile Virginiei Woolf într-o bibliotecæ
localæ dæræpænatæ øi am decis cæ trebuie – vezi, iaræøi acest cuvînt – sæ citesc
toate romanele, eseurile sau jurnalele ei. Acum, imagineazæ-fli cæ bibliotecile
noastre de cartier au ræmas cu cærflile de pe vremea lui Ceauøescu, rar se mai aduce
ceva nou, aøa cæ în ziua aceea am plecat færæ tragere de inimæ la biblioteca localæ
ca sæ caut ceva scriitori moderniøti. Virginia Woolf apare, aøadar, pe peretele bleu
pentru cæ am citit foarte mult despre øi de ea, în luna aceea. Øi este printre scriitorii
mei favorifli.
– De ce?
– Pentru cæ este incredibil de puternicæ, de ascuflitæ intelectual, chiar tæioasæ pentru
perioada aceea postvictorianæ. Cu toate cæ øi scrierile ei sînt pluøate, diafane øi
civilizate, lucruri care flin de materialitatea vremii respective, subteran gæseøti un rîu
foarte negricios, critic øi maliflios, acel flux al conøtiinflei, acea trezire øi privire rece
asupra vieflii psihologice, asupra timpului øi asupra schimbærilor pe care el le produce.
Citindu-i øi jurnalele, din pæcate varianta mai veche, cenzuratæ de soflul ei, Leonard,
am ræmas fascinatæ de seriozitatea aproape masochistæ cu care îøi analizeazæ scrisul
øi dezvoltærile tehnice ale limbajului, de importanfla pe care o acordæ cuvîntului, nu
sensului lui, ci melodiei, øtii cæ ea scrie foarte muzical, urmærind un ritm, øi nu o intrigæ;
cuvîntului în sine, cu ceea ce el confline mai presus de efectul botezator, de numire
a lucrurilor, oamenilor sau stærilor sufleteøti. Cred cæ ea iubeøte tocmai aceastæ substanflæ
solidæ a unui cuvînt, golitæ de orice legæturæ cu ceva cognoscibil. Ador independenfla
ei sexualæ & materialæ, iar eseul „A Room of One’s Own“ e unul fabulos
pentru acea epocæ conservatoare. Apoi gæsesc foarte apetisante încercærile ei de
a înregistra, diseca, înflelege øi descrie lucruri impalpabile cum ar fi viafla sau timpul.
În mare, se spune cæ a eøuat în aceste încercæri; mie tocmai aceste experimente
sortite oarecum eøecului mi se par interesante. Iar Valurile este pur øi simplu o bijuterie.
Mæ mai atrage øi aspectul psihologic, comunicærile pe deasupra limbajului dintre
personajele sale. V. Woolf este destul de interiorizatæ, ceea ce face ca scrisul ei
sæ fie mai concentrat, mai scurt øi mai sacadat.
– Væd cæ vorbeøti de ea la timpul prezent.
– fii se pare cæ a murit?
– Ce alfli scriitori, care au murit biologic, dar pe care continui sæ îi bænuieøti în viaflæ
îfli mai plac?
– Ha, ha! Subtila ta ironie nu face decît sæ mæ flateze! Øtii cæ Stuart era numele unui
øoricel alb cu baschefli roøii øi pantaloni scurfli albaøtri pe o placæ de skateboard?
– Bine, atunci ce scriitori morfli sau nu biologic, dar pe care continui sæ-i bænuieøti în
viaflæ îfli mai plac?
scena
points of view. And I really don’t understand, why must I produce
something? Why can’t I just consume? Anyway this is the thing I like
to do best. Why, after having consumed books, movies, magazines,
art works, interior design, opinions and commentaries, do I have to
say my opinion on what I’ve just consumed? And, since I’m an artist,
should it be expressed in another work of art?
– Well, because there is a balance also found in nature and in
Buddhism, the middle way or the golden path, teaching you that
whatever is consumed must be replaced. Anyway this balance is
rather precarious and if there is too much swinging a lot of natural
calamities will appear. It’s a basic principle, isn’t it? And since everything
functions according to this principle for so many years, that
means that it is worth something. Let’s talk about literature, I’ve seen
on the blue wall the “accidental meeting” between you and Virginia
Woolf. Why V. Woolf?
– In the Amsterdam exhibition I’ve only exhibited the month of
October. Out of pure coincidence I’ve fallen upon the books of
Virginia Woolf in a local shattered library, and I decided that I must
– you see, this word again, read all her novels, essays, journals.
You have to know that the books from our district libraries date back
to the Ceauøescu era, rarely something new is brought, so that day
I left for the library with no enthusiasm at all. I was looking for some
modern writers. Virginia Woolf appears on the blue wall because I’ve
read a lot about and by her that month. And she is one of my
favourites writers.
– Why?
– Because she is incredibly strong, intellectually sharp, even cutting
for those post Victorian times. Even though her writings are velvety,
translucent and civilised, which is specific to the materiality of that
era, you can find, in the underground, a black, critical and mischievous
river, that stream of consciousness, that awakening and cold
look on psychological life, on time and the changes it causes.
I’ve also read her journals, unfortunately the older version censored
by her husband, Leonard, and I was fascinated by the almost masochistic
seriousness with which she used to analyse her writing and
her technical development of language, by the importance she gave
to the word, not to its meaning, but to its music. She writes very
musically, you know, following a rhythm, not a plot. She is interested
in the word itself, in what it contains more than its baptising effect,
that of naming things, people or emotions. I think she loves this very
solid substance of a word, emptied of any link to anything recognisable.
I love her sexual and material independence, and the essay
“A Room of One’s Own” is simply fabulous for those conservative
times. Then I think her endeavours to register, dissect, understand
and depict impalpable things such as life or time are very appealing.
They say she generally failed in this attempts, for me these very
experiments doomed to failure seem interesting. And The Waves is
a jewel, really. I’m also interested in the psychological aspect, in the
communication beyond language between her characters. V. Woolf
is pretty interiorised, which makes her writing more concentrated,
shorter and more abrupt.
– I see you are speaking about her in present time.
– Why, do you think of her as dead?
– What other writers, biologically dead, but whom you consider still
alive do you like?
– Ha, ha! Your subtle irony is flattering me. Did you know Stuart is
the name of a little white mouse with red sneakers and blue short
pants on a skateboard?
– Well then, what other writers, biologically dead or not, whom you
still think alive do you like?
– Well, after I discovered V. Woolf’s books, I logically followed up
with T. S. Eliot and James Joyce, Lawrence, Jane Austen and so on.
I still avoid Shakespeare for he was much too recommended by all
modern writers in their books, he’s much too promoted, I also like
Fitzgerald and some contemporary Japanese writers whose names
are impossible to memorize.
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