Inspired by: Concerning our present way of living, Stephan Willats (here shown)
<<THE MEANINGLESSNESS OF NOT BEING OBSERVED>>
What I am doing here is nothing more than telling a story, with fake realism and realistic characters. Before starting I am underlining a point of the exhibition behind my shoulders that impressed me for its cryptic meaning. Concerning Stephen Willats’s ideological tower there are four axioms in order to circumscribe social problems. Maybe, if I am not wrong, we can use these four axioms in order to “square” the existence of every little character of this tale. There are: identity, behavior, code, values. The tower I am building is such a small one, not more than four floors, every floor will represent each character of this tale, Atman, Demian, Gaia and Petra. What I am, what I am in my relation with them, it will pop up in a way or another. The fifth floor is considered as ground floor a place where all characters may interact – with me as a viewer more than a creator (surely Giulio Paolini’s works has influenced my thoughts).
Let’s start now from the top floor, where Atman is. Her identity appears weak at first sight but a kind of weakness you fall in love with, when she unties her hair, black filaments of pure joy, her mouth has the sole sound of “God is where I am, I am where God is”. Her behavior is totally shaped on her identity, her image and self coincide. I noticed that her will of living is not oppressed by her own fears or paranoids, but mostly from the others’ ones. This is not a crime neither a guilt that spoil one’s soul. I am not very sure what we mean with “code”, it can be seen as something that we actively take as it is our sole reality. A code is more a decision than a fate happening. Again, for God’s sons, the code can be nothing but love. What a fascinating world just next door. But values.. values, my friend, is something more than active decisions concerning our present way of living. Here is where percentages take place, where they covertly work on us without any consensus or permission. Values is that angle of that square for which we may fight all life in order to bend it and the reality of that curve will never be shown to the owner’s eyes. We may just have a dirty mirror to catch some fragment of what we are. The dirty mirror is the reality we live in, a continuous reflection of what we are but shaped on the others’ eyes, as Pirandello greatly taught us. The pureness of the reflection is spoiled by relativism, what I consider the malady of the Present Age, unsolved and unsolvable. Her values are settled in a camera obscura, they live there and they make as germs do. Sometimes a brave human being brighten her values up, out of the camera obscura, in front of the world’s eyes. Believe me, that pictures are truth of beauty. Nothing else I can say about her.
Take the lift, there is some depressing Caribbean music inside.
Demian’s identity is modified by his German accent which gives him the appearance of a grotesque character of an anti-Nazi comedy. Despite of the great majority of the people his inner essence seems spread all over his body skin. As a magnificent truth for his viewers. But the result is creepy and terrifying: a man who does not fear himself, a man who does not fear while showing the world his cruelty (take note, a cruelty that is a natural skill of human beings, but it still scare us for its power). In this case, behavior is nothing more than his own identity continuously shown as a war’s prize. His code is survival, nothing else. Here, it will be easier to analyze the character’s values, not because Demian is more aware than his wife but just because for some unexpected event the setting is hazy but not obscured. Furthermore, his angle is not inaccessible by the public.. no, no.. its doors are wide open. Its walls are made of extremely clear glass and its entrances are billions of doors from which the common and shared thoughts of the present time influence and shape the character’s values. I should express myself with deeper means.. If you are interested in Demian’s conception of life you can be sure that he will fit in the highest percentage of people with the same conception. This is not something to criticize excessively it just means that you are what the present is. The rhythm of your life will never be discordant. Sometimes I would pay billions of euros and liters of blood to hear just a beat of the present reality around me, but we live somewhere else, do not we?
Turn off your mind now, take the lift.
Same music, different feelings.
In the balcony of the second floor there is Gaia singing a childish song and smoking a joint with her eyes drained by the lunar beauty. Her identity is still fluid and it seems to run away from its own body, frighten by soul’s prison which is body itself. Here we have a dis-location of the self and a supremacy of the image, in this aspect she accords with the contemporaneous matter of Narcissism. As I know from Lower’s scripts, there are different degrees and levels of narcissism, and what I could see in her, what I can surely recognize in her eyes was a total lack of feeling even though she was repeating me how fucking scared she was by her ex boyfriend’s rage and with how many tears she had covered his violence. I am scared of and I feel guilty while affirming that I could not see any identity in her, just some projections of – equally unstable- identities that I have seen before in similar contexts. Probably for these reasons that I have just underlined her behavior is the clearest to understand today. She is also something that I already now, she is well-behaved when taking care about her own business, she had probably educated herself in order to survive in some way or another. People to her are objects, means to obtain something else. It could be interesting than if I tell you that with these same words she explained me how her boyfriend was to her.
But no justifications are accepted here, neither forgiveness.
Her code is extremeness, something that in my opinion is irreverent braveness and neglect egoism.
From her point of view she is dancing the world’s rhythm – according the way she dress up and cut her hair – but truth is that she is dancing in an empty room, where her life-mates are just projections of her need of being. Her values then, are shaped on the shared ones, differently that in Demian’s case which was a passive storing of shared values, Gaia’s actions are totally active and moved by her will. But when you find the will of being, the strongly need of feeling our own existences there is always a lack.
While leaving her floor, while abandoning her squared existence my heart was fulfilled with pity and love.
Keep your tears for the next rom-com.
Lift. Music. First Floor.
I spent hours and hours seeking Petra, they were having a party and everybody I asked where she was was too wasted to give me ƒa reasonable answer. I must admit that I started drinking as well because it was understandable boring to share that kind of setting whether feeling misfit. When I found her she was joying a group of people in drinking and she was repeating a story that I’ve heard hundred of times. One of collection of five stories that she almost repeat every time: how drunk she was that day and how she does not remember anything and how this never happen to her. Another story was about her own conception of her identity: how people think she is Russian but she is Finnish and how people see her when she is drunk. That was how people where actually seeing her in that moment while she was doing an imitation of herself. I must say before starting that her squared existence is the closest thing that I have ever seen to normality. I may probably be wrong, I am fascinated by normality and I am always seeking it. So, her identity was shaped on her Russian appearance but her Finnish essence, on the extremely normal event of moving to London in order to follow her dream of being an actress. I should tell you that when, extremely drunk, I asked her to pretend weeping she refused saying she was not able to. As often and normally happens she forced herself in every small event of the day and she was doing it naturally as it was a mechanism inside her. I mean, she was tired when she was tired, she was angry when she was angry, grating when grating et cetera. This drive me nuts. Her code is life itself not in its core or pursuit of truth but life itself in something that I cannot describe but I can feel is there though too far from my blind eyes. Her values were that angle of that square, nothing else: if the available space for her values was thirty per cent she would not miss or overfill a centimeter of that area. She does not know what is emptiness, she does not now what is drama, she does not know what is the malady of relativism or the psychotic hypochondria . But she does know what is everyday life, what are hopes and disillusionment, what is anger and sadness. Probably mine is just an envious superiority.
It is time to go.
Lift, ground floor.
Music off, mind on.
Curtains wide open, public is quivering today.
Ambulance’s siren was mixed with the noise of dishes next door. Suburbia are fascinating in their realism for them who are out of it, they appear as a magnificent reality that they will never catch. Grey was the predominant color and it was mixed with black stains of dirty that seemed as shadows of enormous monsters. A vegetable garden was occupying the central space of the main yard. Actors were moving around it, sometimes hidden, sometimes sitting in a sleazy couch just in front of the public. A guy with a broken elbow and a pierced nose was playing with his golden hair and his fierce smile swung open when he saw some feminine flesh coming. Despite his giant appearance his eyes were sincere. He could not lie with his eyes, key of his dashing beauty. While palpating that creature is fair asking what that people were doing, what was the meaning of their life. Acting with no one observing, just a projection of a quivering public to satisfy their needs. Why God put all of them in a same floor and in an equal position to let them loose the game of life? But no one of them will be killed by truth, they will survive. Is this the sole way for existence? If purpose is winning, if purpose is building a tower with our solid and squared existence, fulfilling the world with our extreme meaningless, why should we seek truth? Here dies any pursuit. You have a kitchen and kitchen you need, you need a bathroom and bathroom you have, you need sex and sex will fulfill your life, it will satisfy you, people will be sure they love you, you will be sure you love yourself, there is nothing else. In the backstage books were burning but life was going on. How miserable were our omnipotent claims and our needs of existential satisfaction. Atman was doing the laundry, Demian was drinking a beer, Gaia was drained by her phone, Petra was telling a story of hers. Life is nothing more than this. The tower is built and stable. No one is watching and no one is caring, we are meaningless, but we are alive.