1. on building bridges and cranes, a manifesto (19 oktober 2017 - NOTES FROM #1)
What is the purpose of art? What obligations do we need to fulfill when we call ourselves artists?
Obviously, the primary question in approaching art has nothing to do with obligations or laws. By calling ourselves artists and thereby being so, first of all we need to ask ourselves, what can art induce? What are the possible outcomes of our commitment to the world when we call ourselves artists? And can we, thereby, open up new possibilities? Can art foresee all eventualities? When asking ourselves these questions, in stead of the first ones regarding the obligations of creating art and being an artist, should we not even ask ourselves the following: Is the world ready for art? Is art ready for the world? Is the world ready for me as an artist? And what do I need to realize when appropriating this title?
Notwithstanding this flood of questions, let there be no confusion: This is, in fact, a manifesto. And I am, in fact, an artist.
To get directly to the core of the matter - since someone has made up the concept of manifesto’s to convince other people that what he is telling is the truth - I am convinced that art can enrich us as human beings and thereby enlarge us and our ability to live in this place we call ‘life’. Alan Watts calls this ‘an exercise in perception’, and that is precisely what I am talking about. To, for a moment, turn around and look through the camera of someone else. To understand that you are in the middle, always. That everyone is in his own middle, always. That ‘the definition of a person is where you look from’, as he expresses it.
That is the first idea to catch.
Furthermore, regarding the subject obligations, in a certain position - as a confident or even arrogant artist - I can tell you that art does need to fulfill its commitments. Art has obligations. It is obliged to connect, to create nets, to make ends meet. Art has to build bridges, for people’s sake. What I am talking about refers to finding a dot, then finding another, and connect them. And then, hopefully, find one more. Dots as a metaphor for bridges, bridges as a simile for enrichment. The carpet of the world is woven with bridges.
In a certain position, I could preach you this. But let us take a look through another camera. Change definitions.
How does Harry cross the canal? By putting an idea to reality, by expanding his mind and soul, by connecting dots: by building a bridge. But what if I tell you that Harry’s wife has a car, and that Harry only needs to follow the asphalt that takes a bend over the docks over there, and eventually also brings him across the canal? Is there still the need to build a bridge?
As I said, it is extremely important to understand that this is something I could preach. But I won’t, because I won’t. Because I believe we will definitely see what is on the other side of the canal, but we will not see what is on the island, unless we have a boat. But, as apposed to a boat, building a bridge allows others to see what is happening over there. And that camera is much more interesting and enriching than the one that does not get to see the building of these bridges. Just to be clear: I am not talking about making documentaries here. I am talking about making art.
I think we should build bridges over ditches as well.
Now let us take a look at cranes. Why? Because the title of this manifesto tells us to. So how does one build a crane? There are in fact large cranes, only there to build smaller cranes. That might sound cute, but not very interesting when thinking about claiming the appellation of an artist. What is more interesting, is the question of how those larger cranes are built. The fascinating answer to this obscure query is that these cranes, in fact, build themselves. Thanks to the incredible techniques the crane-industry has developed since the first crane (which is written about by Aristotle, over three hundred years before Christ), we are now able to get the uppermost part of a crane to lift itself up, above itself, and shove the next part underneath, continuing this process of elevating and shoving until the crane has built itself up. However only because of what happened before. You could see this as an easy metaphor. The choice is yours to make.
So now, let me conclude by asking some elementary questions again. Because after all, the only thing we are obliged to do as an artist and as a human being, is to sustain that soft (or screaming) voice inside our heads, asking ourselves: What is our purpose? What is the purpose of art? What obligations do we need to fulfill in order to call ourselves artists? Or human beings? How does one become an artist? What is art able to do, for the worlds sake? And equally important to us, artists of this place, age and this era: what are we obliged to do, and what is the world obliged to do, for arts sake?