Sowing Time

Against all art theories, he believed that it does not matter whether the spectator likes the object presented by the artist. If the artist is really free to create, she is free to create and nothing more should be added. Not a word, not a comma. Of course there are real life contingencies and constraints. That is precisely why we need art and, more importantly, that is precisely why we need the artist amongst us. She helps us transcend the contingency without forcing us to reject it. Her freedom liberates us. Her work never dissipates energy. She should not care whether we liked her documentary or not. Of course she cares, of course she also does not care. That is why she did what she just did. I am afraid that most people didn’t like it and that most people won’t like it. But, what does it mean to like something? As Whitehead said, we crave for novelty, yet we are haunted by terror at the loss of the past. The true artist takes seriously the complain of the physicist when he asks whether art can be more than refined entertainment. She shows him something he could not have suspected: that entertainment can help him transcend. Sowing time –and then sewing it– she creates a space that is truly temporal; she makes of an oxymoron a real fact. It is absolutely magnificent. He is carried away like when watching the tree of life… He could breath for hours suspended on those initial macroscopic shots taken with a microscope. Any colour would feel like home. Everything is home in that documentary. A documentary performing alchemy on itself: a historical factual record that uses personal stories to touch the Impersonal. He forgets he has a body and he borrows the body of the film. He sees and listens to the text, yet he is not really listening or seeing. He is kind of perceiving directly what is going on. Every unfamiliar and unexpected transition from cell to animal, from animal to human, from human to artifactual, every one of those is extremely familiar. Yet, still wonder pervades. Like a kid, but with the awareness of an adult. The voice of his true trip fellows makes him feel at home again. Yet, what they say seems not of this world. This world wants action and confrontation. This world celebrates triviality. This world can only operate within a narrative. Yet, she is able to fit in a narrative a non-narrative process. One more miracle again. Something that unfolds while keeping its essence always there, always present, always sincere, always what it is. She also teaches us about detachment. She had meticulously recorded so many fragments, yet she decides to show none. This is an exercise of liberation. Once liberated, she can proceed and transform. She uses image with a power that exceeds representation. She uses sound knowingly of the secret of the Vedas. Sound is primordial in the Universe. Light and sound, in their complementarity, are both the message and the carrier of the message. She is curious because she takes careful. He guesses that even those who promote the whole show have not realised that yet. People think she did not come today. Again, they err in their superficiality. She was here today, perhaps, more present than ever. More there than she would have been if she had come. She was what we saw and what we heard. We were what she saw and what she heard. The Many and the One, again, dancing. He can only say two things to her now: thank you.

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Cosmonauta en la Tierra

“De ahora en adelante, al referirme a la Tierra, no diré más indiscriminadamente “el mundo”. Consideraré “mapa mundial” una expresión no apropiada; cuando diga “mi mundo”, me acordaré con un susto de alegría de que también mi mapa necesita ser transformado, y de que nadie me garantiza que, visto desde afuera, mi mundo no sea azul. Consideraciones: antes del primer cosmonauta, sería correcto que alguien hubiera dicho, al referirse a su propio nacimiento, “vine al mundo”. Pero sólo hace poco tiempo nacemos para el mundo. Casi avergonzados.

Para ver el azul miramos el cielo. La Tierra es azul para quien la mira desde el cielo. ¿Azul será un color en sí, o una cuestión de distancia? ¿O una cuestión de gran nostalgia? Lo inalcanzable es siempre azul.

Si yo fuera el primer astronauta, mi alegría sólo se renovaría cuando un segundo hombre volviera allá desde el mundo: pues también él lo habría visto. Porque “haber visto” no es sustituible por ninguna descripción: haber visto sólo se compara con haber visto. Hasta que otro ser humano también hubiera visto, yo tendría dentro de mí un gran silencio, aun cuando hablara. Consideración: supongo la hipótesis de que alguien en el mundo ya haya visto a Dios. Y nunca haya dicho una palabra. Pues, si ningún otro lo vio, es inútil decirlo.

El gran favor del acaso: todavía estar vivos cuando el gran mundo comenzó. En cuanto a lo que viene: necesitamos fumar menos, cuidar más de nosotros para tener más tiempo y vivir y ver un poco más; además de pedir prisa a los científicos —pues nuestro tiempo personal urge.”

Clarice Lispector

Blessed are they who sow and do not reap…

“Blessed are they who sow and do not reap —
they shall wander in extremity.

Blessed are the generous
whose glory in youth has enhanced the extravagant
brightness of days —
who shed their accoutrements at the crossroads.

Blessed are the proud whose pride overflows
the banks of their souls
to become the modesty of whiteness
in the wake of a rainbow’s ascent through a cloud.

Blessed are they who know
their hearts will cry out from the wilderness
and that quiet will blossom from their lips.

Blessed are these
for they will be gathered to the heart of the world,
wrapped in the mantle of oblivion
— their destiny’s offering unuttered to the end.”

Avraham Ben Yitzhak

Los dos reyes y los dos laberintos

“Cuentan los hombres dignos de fe (pero Alá sabe más) que en los primeros días hubo un rey de las islas de Babilonia que congregó a sus arquitectos y magos y les mandó a construir un laberinto tan perplejo y sutil que los varones más prudentes no se aventuraban a entrar, y los que entraban se perdían. Esa obra era un escándalo, porque la confusión y la maravilla son operaciones propias de Dios y no de los hombres. Con el andar del tiempo vino a su corte un rey de los árabes, y el rey de Babilonia (para hacer burla de la simplicidad de su huésped) lo hizo penetrar en el laberinto, donde vagó afrentado y confundido hasta la declinación de la tarde. Entonces imploró socorro divino y dio con la puerta. Sus labios no profirieron queja ninguna, pero le dijo al rey de Babilonia que él en Arabia tenía otro laberinto y que, si Dios era servido, se lo daría a conocer algún día. Luego regresó a Arabia, juntó sus capitanes y sus alcaides y estragó los reinos de Babilonia con tan venturosa fortuna que derribo sus castillos, rompió sus gentes e hizo cautivo al mismo rey. Lo amarró encima de un camello veloz y lo llevó al desierto. Cabalgaron tres días, y le dijo: “Oh, rey del tiempo y substancia y cifra del siglo!, en Babilonia me quisiste perder en un laberinto de bronce con muchas escaleras, puertas y muros; ahora el Poderoso ha tenido a bien que te muestre el mío, donde no hay escaleras que subir, ni puertas que forzar, ni fatigosas galerías que recorrer, ni muros que veden el paso.” Luego le desató las ligaduras y lo abandonó en la mitad del desierto, donde murió de hambre y de sed. La gloria sea con aquel que no muere.”

Jorge Luis Borges