With surprise we have to notice that the more we
have things the less we actually do have them. »To have them«
meaning to know about them, what and how they are – in relation
to other things and to us and what they mean in both respects. What
is that knowledge we assemble ? Is there anything real beside that knowledge
? What does knowledge actually mean ? To have it ? In terms of information,
stored on data-carriers, be it carved in stone, printed in books or
lasered on hard disc ? Or to experience it as the inescapable flow of
sounds, clips, features and messages that make up the movie of everyday
? Seems that the more uncertain our reasons for being become the more
of that stored or flowing data is needed to accompany us – kind
of an expanding cushion to keep us from getting hold of ourselves. Can
there be a return to things ? And to us ? I don’t think so, because
on what corner should we turn ? As artists we do, inevitably, develop,
enlarge and refine the use of symbols – therefore we help to blow
up that cushion – both as masters and servants of the respective
methods applied. What could a responsible measure to implant a selfreflection
of such methods consist of ? Maybe it can consist of erasure. |
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