(23 July 2019)
Perestroika art is a revolt against political establishment, not art establishment. Revolts against art establishment strive to seduce the audience away from the canon. Revolts against the system strive to offend the elites and are often ugly; the audience is the collateral damage.
Rick Owens’s dresses, without imitating Alexander McQueen, borrow his ideal: freedom as the ultimate value. The freedom to entertain and express an idea is also the freedom from being identified with this idea. A dress is a vehicle for an idea.
To a greater extent without than within the museum, Tallinn is strangely subservient to its Soviet past. Are the displays of souvenir busts of former leaders of a purportedly oppressive regime the best way the town can appeal to tourists? Has not the town built a new identity? (The country has, so why not the town?) Perhaps, Tallinn attracts the Northerners who seek the thrill of the past that they themselves have narrowly escaped, instead of attracting those who would value the town for its defiance towards that past. The new identity is also probably slow to percolate into the Old Town due to its peripheral location.
31 July 2019
"Other Minds: The Octopus, the Sea, and the Deep Origins of Consciousness" by Peter Godfrey-Smith (2016)
The book asks what it feels like to be the Internet, what it feels like to be a tentacle of an octopus, what it feels like to be Canada, what it feels like to be David Lynch. It all feels about the same.
What distinguishes the nervous system is that it is “fast.” Other cells communicate with other cells—inside or outside the organism—but slowly. Reaction speed is a defining characteristic of intelligence. Complexity, to be preserved in the face of competition, requires speed, which calls for centralisation: a nervous system, a brain. (The observation may also very well apply to social organisms: companies and states.)
One can partition human mind into two selves: the sleeping, dreaming, self and the awake self. This partition may serve as a metaphor for the multiple brains and, so, “selves” of an octopus. Each self thinks it is the principal one; while it may act in concert with other selves, in a kind of a dance, ultimately, the narrative is its own. Or so it thinks. When awake, an individual sticks to the awake narrative. Who knows what life the sleeping self imagines for itself? It would be unwise for either self to ignore the other, just as it would be unwise for a tentacle of an octopus to seek autonomy.
One can also partition human mind differently: the left-hemisphere self and the right-hemisphere self. To some extent, experiences within each such self are compartmentalised (more so in pigeons than in humans). Yet the subjective human experience is emphatically devoid of split personalities, at least most of the time. In a similar vein, even though the brain remembers events and feelings one associates with, say, one’s co-worker in distinct ways, one rarely recognises the tenuousness of the connection between the two kinds of memories. Human consciousness—and that of the Internet, an octopus, Canada, and David Lynch—is alarmingly unexceptional.
What distinguishes the nervous system is that it is “fast.” Other cells communicate with other cells—inside or outside the organism—but slowly. Reaction speed is a defining characteristic of intelligence. Complexity, to be preserved in the face of competition, requires speed, which calls for centralisation: a nervous system, a brain. (The observation may also very well apply to social organisms: companies and states.)
One can partition human mind into two selves: the sleeping, dreaming, self and the awake self. This partition may serve as a metaphor for the multiple brains and, so, “selves” of an octopus. Each self thinks it is the principal one; while it may act in concert with other selves, in a kind of a dance, ultimately, the narrative is its own. Or so it thinks. When awake, an individual sticks to the awake narrative. Who knows what life the sleeping self imagines for itself? It would be unwise for either self to ignore the other, just as it would be unwise for a tentacle of an octopus to seek autonomy.
One can also partition human mind differently: the left-hemisphere self and the right-hemisphere self. To some extent, experiences within each such self are compartmentalised (more so in pigeons than in humans). Yet the subjective human experience is emphatically devoid of split personalities, at least most of the time. In a similar vein, even though the brain remembers events and feelings one associates with, say, one’s co-worker in distinct ways, one rarely recognises the tenuousness of the connection between the two kinds of memories. Human consciousness—and that of the Internet, an octopus, Canada, and David Lynch—is alarmingly unexceptional.
3 Osokins
(Dzintari Concert Hall, 25 July 2019)
Sergejs Osokins’s every keystroke has a life of its own, executed nearly staccato, perfectly timed, and with just the right strength. In that, his classical piano resembles jazz piano (of Raimonds Pauls’s variety); it is decidedly twenty-first century.
There is a reason to keep performing traditional classical music, a reason that does not confuse art with a mere sport competition in the exercise of a narrow vocabulary. A musical piece is a dance whose moves the musical score can codify only roughly. Successive performers build on earlier discoveries and, by doing so, create a slightly different, ever more perfect piece.
Sergejs Osokins’s every keystroke has a life of its own, executed nearly staccato, perfectly timed, and with just the right strength. In that, his classical piano resembles jazz piano (of Raimonds Pauls’s variety); it is decidedly twenty-first century.
There is a reason to keep performing traditional classical music, a reason that does not confuse art with a mere sport competition in the exercise of a narrow vocabulary. A musical piece is a dance whose moves the musical score can codify only roughly. Successive performers build on earlier discoveries and, by doing so, create a slightly different, ever more perfect piece.
The Lehman Trilogy
(Piccadilly Theatre, 30 July 2019)
The play is about three Jews’ journey to America. And yet the play is not about immigration, America, or Jewry. The play is about commitment to adventure (perhaps, with a concomitant commitment to avoid certain misadventure); immigration is but a commitment tool. The play is about trust and rivalry between business partners; both are often found among family members. The play is also about the ever evolving trust among market participants. Finally, the play is about daring and luck.
The play is an ode to capitalism, which forges connections. Capitalism also purportedly brainwashes the public to buy (and, so, to create and to sell). Even so, the mantra that buying is necessary for survival is better than the alternative mantra that killing, pillaging, and raping are necessary to justify and enhance one’s existence. Buying and thinking one is winning is better than thinking one is being taken advantage of. To trade rather than to war is the hallmark of civilisation.
In the play, an exchange occurring during a stock market crash suggests how the expectation of government intervention, however well intentioned, may exacerbate a bank run. The government waits for the first banks, the scape goats, to fail. The remaining banks are to be bailed out. The recognition of this strategy prompts banks to refrain from lending to each other, thereby justifying bank runs and precipitating the collapse of the financial system.
Adam Godley shines, in each of the many parts he plays, spanning both genders and all ages, from an infant to a 140-year old. His dance number (with expert support from his two co-stars) is a standalone masterpiece. All three actors shine in their multi-character play, which only occasionally distracts away from the characters themselves.
The play is about three Jews’ journey to America. And yet the play is not about immigration, America, or Jewry. The play is about commitment to adventure (perhaps, with a concomitant commitment to avoid certain misadventure); immigration is but a commitment tool. The play is about trust and rivalry between business partners; both are often found among family members. The play is also about the ever evolving trust among market participants. Finally, the play is about daring and luck.
The play is an ode to capitalism, which forges connections. Capitalism also purportedly brainwashes the public to buy (and, so, to create and to sell). Even so, the mantra that buying is necessary for survival is better than the alternative mantra that killing, pillaging, and raping are necessary to justify and enhance one’s existence. Buying and thinking one is winning is better than thinking one is being taken advantage of. To trade rather than to war is the hallmark of civilisation.
In the play, an exchange occurring during a stock market crash suggests how the expectation of government intervention, however well intentioned, may exacerbate a bank run. The government waits for the first banks, the scape goats, to fail. The remaining banks are to be bailed out. The recognition of this strategy prompts banks to refrain from lending to each other, thereby justifying bank runs and precipitating the collapse of the financial system.
Adam Godley shines, in each of the many parts he plays, spanning both genders and all ages, from an infant to a 140-year old. His dance number (with expert support from his two co-stars) is a standalone masterpiece. All three actors shine in their multi-character play, which only occasionally distracts away from the characters themselves.
17 July 2019
Le Modèle Noir de Géricault à Matisse
(Musee d’Orsay, 12 July 2019)
Focus on the future. Do not waste the time rewriting the past (and, perhaps, the future generations will be less ruthless in overwriting you).
The blacks used to be exotic to the Western eye. Soon it will be Europeans' turn to look quaint and exotic in the eyes of the newly rising civilisations. Perhaps, they already do, at Lapin Agile; not yet in London.
Catastrophes, such as wars, take people outside their comfort zone, shake up social hierarchies, spur creativity, bolster solidarity, which helps cooperate. A kinder, more humane catastrophe is capitalism with a healthy measure of democratic folly every now and then.
Focus on the future. Do not waste the time rewriting the past (and, perhaps, the future generations will be less ruthless in overwriting you).
The blacks used to be exotic to the Western eye. Soon it will be Europeans' turn to look quaint and exotic in the eyes of the newly rising civilisations. Perhaps, they already do, at Lapin Agile; not yet in London.
Catastrophes, such as wars, take people outside their comfort zone, shake up social hierarchies, spur creativity, bolster solidarity, which helps cooperate. A kinder, more humane catastrophe is capitalism with a healthy measure of democratic folly every now and then.
The Tree of Codes by Wayne McGregor
(Opéra Bastille, 13 July 2019)
One never sees the full picture. Any literal interpretation is a misrepresentation. One sees the symptoms, while the phenomenon is hiding in between the broad brushstrokes. And yet one must have a model.
To maximise freedom, one may choose to curtail property rights and cultivate public spaces. The critical feature of property rights is not their absolute nature but their clarity and enforcement. (Historically, clarity and enforcement have been the easiest to achieve when property rights are absolute.) Noncritical features of property rights can be redesigned to suit the circumstances (as is routinely done—not necessarily well—in the case of intellectual property rights). Public space is property rights management on behalf of the unborn, underinsured, and those suffering from the collective action problem.
A conflict, international or domestic, can be akin to an autoimmune disease. There is no moral imperative to the democratic process, less so to the autocratic one.
To feel like an octopus is to experience agency in a group project. To feel like an octopus is to choreograph. To feel like an octopus is to play, converse, dance.
Art is never about capturing a moment. It is about capturing an idea, which is never at rest. Dance is a sculpture in motion, a Rodin sculpture.
One never sees the full picture. Any literal interpretation is a misrepresentation. One sees the symptoms, while the phenomenon is hiding in between the broad brushstrokes. And yet one must have a model.
To maximise freedom, one may choose to curtail property rights and cultivate public spaces. The critical feature of property rights is not their absolute nature but their clarity and enforcement. (Historically, clarity and enforcement have been the easiest to achieve when property rights are absolute.) Noncritical features of property rights can be redesigned to suit the circumstances (as is routinely done—not necessarily well—in the case of intellectual property rights). Public space is property rights management on behalf of the unborn, underinsured, and those suffering from the collective action problem.
A conflict, international or domestic, can be akin to an autoimmune disease. There is no moral imperative to the democratic process, less so to the autocratic one.
To feel like an octopus is to experience agency in a group project. To feel like an octopus is to choreograph. To feel like an octopus is to play, converse, dance.
Art is never about capturing a moment. It is about capturing an idea, which is never at rest. Dance is a sculpture in motion, a Rodin sculpture.
15 July 2019
Le Crazy Horse
(12 Avenue George-V, 14 July 2019)
When done right, dance is architecture. One gets only one go at it. One cannot erase, paint over, or reshape. One must engineer to perfection and then build, just once, night after night, a living thing.
Each number is an impressionist painting. The light guides the thought, is animated by the thought, is emitted by the flesh, contracts the flesh, echoes the music, writes the score. Each number is as long as its guiding idea requires it to be. The pace is honed down to its primal, universal essence.
Less is more to the extent that the shadow keeps the multitude of possibilities alive while just enough light articulates the general idea. Once reality is exposed, the alternatives die. Perhaps, one's favourite alternative dies. There is less life overall.
When done right, dance is architecture. One gets only one go at it. One cannot erase, paint over, or reshape. One must engineer to perfection and then build, just once, night after night, a living thing.
Each number is an impressionist painting. The light guides the thought, is animated by the thought, is emitted by the flesh, contracts the flesh, echoes the music, writes the score. Each number is as long as its guiding idea requires it to be. The pace is honed down to its primal, universal essence.
Less is more to the extent that the shadow keeps the multitude of possibilities alive while just enough light articulates the general idea. Once reality is exposed, the alternatives die. Perhaps, one's favourite alternative dies. There is less life overall.
5 July 2019
Cronofobia (2018)
(Ischia Film Festival, 29 June 2019)
One gleans only partial insight into the lives of others and yet must guess quickly and enough (but not too much) in order to help others and to help oneself. The narrative flows better if one dares to trust and is conscious of the progress of time.
The movie begins and progresses in a quiet, Mr. Klein kind of way, courtesy of Vinicio Marchioni and Sabine Timoteo in equal measure, the occasional shouting by the barrier notwithstanding.
One gleans only partial insight into the lives of others and yet must guess quickly and enough (but not too much) in order to help others and to help oneself. The narrative flows better if one dares to trust and is conscious of the progress of time.
The movie begins and progresses in a quiet, Mr. Klein kind of way, courtesy of Vinicio Marchioni and Sabine Timoteo in equal measure, the occasional shouting by the barrier notwithstanding.
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