Archive for the ‘Personal’ Category

Why I love Olde Wolders more than Rist

Monday, April 13th, 2009

pipilottiristHave been visiting the Pililotti Rist exposition in Boymans van Beuningen. Pipilotti is a video artist. Her exposition is named ‘Elixer’. The exposition is called a video’organism’. Visitor are invited to participate in the organism: entering a sort of body in the semidark, lots of curtains. Plenty of rooms you are invited to lay down, you can watch the video’s projected on the ceiling, floor and/or walls. The ‘organism’ metaphor is suiting her art, which is very organic: a sort of sweet, LSD trip with flowers, trees, lots of Pipi herself and all supported with psychedelic music made by Pipilotti herself. You can get a pretty good idea watching this trailer. I liked ‘homo sapiens sapiens’ a lot, but I must say I got a little bit fed up with it aftter  having seen 6 of the 9 installations. I got a little bit bored by the colourful sweetness.

But …… not half as much as I liked Saskia Olde Wolbers. The work of Pipi slightly reminded me of Wolbers work but than: Wolbers really impressed me. Actually, she was the first videoartist I ever liked. Until I have seen her work I associated video art with a boring symbolistic artist hocus pocus. Looking for hours at an empty chair or seeing a hand trying to catch mud over and over. More a symbol of the ‘unconventional anti-bourgouis’ character of the artists than a piece you might actually want to watch. Wolders work is not at all like that. It is mesmerizing. I guess it is influenced by dance and it has like Pililottes work a psychodelic, organic aspect. But the difference is: you don’t get bored. Actually, you can’t get enough of it. The reason might be that you get a lot of story in her work. It is like ‘alineating, empty story’ . But still … story. Drame, development. If you ever get the chance to see her, please do! You could watch this YouTube example, but it doesn’t do complete credit to her work

The crack in the wall

Monday, March 30th, 2009

crack1Reading Roland Barthes ‘Mythologies’ is fun to do. It brings you to look at the world through the eyes of the ‘mythologist’. Barthes is interested in finding the myths that are hidden in messages. As a structuralist he is looking for the patterns of meaning hidden in stories and in day-to-day pictures. He defines the myth as the meaning that is on a higher level. The original code is replaced by a code of higher order: the code of the story that is told indirectly and therefore so much more powerful than the official stories that scream out loud their meaning.

I found an interesting one in my daily of last Saturday (NRC). It was hidden in a diagram above an article on the economic developments. The scheme depicts the level of the Dow Jones index from the late seventies up to today. I have copied it above. This blog is not at all about the way the Dow Jones developped during the last 30 years. That is the literal meaning of the diagram. With Barthes I am interested in the meaning behind that. We see that the illustrator chose to depict the graph as a crack in the wall. A crack is a strong signal of decline. A sign on the wall so to say, signifiing that the house has not been taken care of well.

Very meaningful is the starting point of this crack in the early 80-ies, at the beginning of the recovery of the economy. As long as the Dow Jones Index is stable (but low), there is no crack. There are no devolopments. Things are therefor safe. Like a blissful poverty. You have got little, but you know what you have.

As soon as the curve starts to bend upward, the crack develops. The unspoken message here seems to be that at the root of economic prosperity there are already the seeds of decline. At the time it may have looked quite well to see the Dow Jones rise. But at hindsight we detect the beginning of the problems. This also signifies the feeling that this crisis is of a different level then the crisis between ‘ 79 and 2002. This is a fundamental one, that started in the early 80-ies, a sort of a ‘system problem’.

This represents quite a powerful theme we often see in stories about economics. I remember very well the early 2000, when the most cited economics stated that now the times had shifted towards a stable growth for ever and ever. Although the more cunning economists of course never believed this story, the feeling was very optimistic overall. Interviewing consumers however showed a strong hidden fear. Consumers were getting a little anxious because they had in mind the very strong the story of decline after prosperity.  Since decline had to come, they wondered: when? Also they felt that prosperity brought us too much problems, like an egoïsm and materialistic, individualistic view on the world. Another strong theme: as prosperity growth, so do the vices associated with it (read Simon Schama’s wonderful study about the outrageous increase of wealth in 17th century Amsterdam,  ‘The Embarrassment of Riches’)

The crack is growing to gigantic proportions a few years ago (2005), signifying the final fall of the economy started before we were actually aware of it . This is very much in resonance with our idea of a big fall: as in the cartoon when the character is still proceeding as he thinks he is still on the ground. But the spectator knows better. The character is already in the big void. As soon as he looks down and becomes aware of this, he falls down. And hard (being a comic, surviving the fall). The big fall of our economy is therefore placed in a time before the clash in september last year, allowing the theme of idle sense of stability to emerge.

Of course we see the opposite theme as a very strong theme now: after the healthy decline a new era will follow.

Flower, flower, all all and all

Monday, February 9th, 2009

I am a big fan of Dylan Thomas ever since I heard a recording of him reciting his poem ‘do not go gentle into that good night’. I heard that 30 years ago on the radio and can still hear him almost singing this poem. I remember that it was followed by a piece of music from Stravinsky, based on this very poem. I have never ever heard it again (if anyone knows where I can get the recording of the combination of poem and music, please let me know) but I did buy the Collected poems.

The language Thomas uses, is actually too difficult for me. Some of his poems I don’t get at all, but when I am fascinated by them that doesn’t stop me from reading them over and over. But when I think about it: that happens to me with Dutch poets as well. The simple concept of meaning doesn’t apply to poetry. It is not possible to get the ‘full meaning’  by definition. Poetry is interesting because the meaning is not a fixed, simple thing. It changes every time you read the poem, it evolves during the time. The meaning grows and evolves. This characteristic applies to many more means of communication, but we do not always realise that. Come to think of it: everything apart from user manuals (and nobody but the writers understand those) shares this characteristic with poems, only less obvious.

Another interesting phenomenon about poems is the hybrid between form and meaning. You can’t separate them. The medium is the message. The words are the message. Especially with Dylan Thomas, who sort of moulds the words by reusing them throughout the poem in slightly different ways. Every time you read the word again in a new context, the meaning of the previous one is echoed, and in this way the words catch more meaning during the poem. But you would never be able to tell how. It is not an obvious meaning that you could define in a dictionary. It is more like the meaning of music. You can’t tell it, you just have to read it. As an experiment I will give you the last couplet of a poem that sort of keeps me busy the last days:

Flower, flower the peoples fusion.
Oh light in zenith, the coupled bud,
And the flame in the flesh’s vision.
Out of the sea, the drive of oil,
Socket and grave, the brassy blood,
Flower, flower, all all and all.

Probably if you read this, you won’t be completely off the world at all, because the words have not yet been ‘moulded’ for you. You haven’t yet had the previous four times ‘flesh’ was used, or the three times of ‘ all and all’  (not to mention the other times the word ‘all’  is used single) or the opening couplet, linking ‘oil’ to both lave and ice. And this as only the linking through words. There is echo in meaning as well.

So try to read the whole poem, and see what happens!

The problem of scale

Tuesday, December 16th, 2008

Reading ‘the kindly ones’ is not an easy task. It is not entertaining. It almost feels like a task. Littel did everything to make us feel the scale of what took place. Traditionally, the technique to make you understand what’s happening on a large scale is dramatizing. Because the human mind is not suited to understand large numbers at all, the technique is to make you understand one case. If you want to raise money for charity it is not wise to explain that ‘millions have hunger’. It works better to take the example of one family that we can relate to. Littel does it the other way round. He takes away as much as possible the drama, and tells about the procedures, the bureaucratic side. He writes in large chapters, with little subparts. It goes on and on. You need to have a strong stomach. The brilliant thing is that he makes things even harder to cope with, by forcing us to look from the side of the ‘bad side’. You are forced to understand the killing from the perspective of a task, with all of its practical problems. It is amazing to dive into this side of the Shoah. One of those being the moral problems that many soldiers had to cope with. But, as Littell describes, if they did not enjoy the killing, they enjoyed the sacrifice of fulfilling a task, of being obedient.

I haven’t been reading more than one tenth of his novel. And I already got more idea of the scale than ever before. I just read a scene about the killing of 150 jews, written as a sort of ‘practical problem’. And than upscale this to the actual numbers. I can’t promise that I will read all off the nearly 1000 pages.

Pragmatics & maths in atrocities

Monday, December 15th, 2008

Currently reading Jonathan Littels novel ‘the kindly ones’ (written in french as ‘les bienveillantes’). The spooky thing about this novel is that you get a view from the second war atrocaties from the inside. And what you see is not as much the perspective you would have expected. What you get is the basics, the day-to-day aspect of it. So to say the organisational side of it. When we think about organizing killing in the scale it happened in the second world war (and as it happenes as we read or write this in other parts of the world), we think of the grand and malicious plan. Reading this books brings you in contact with the lower level organisation: the day to day decisions that lead directly to the intended result, all the smaller evils that sum up to the big evil. And the small ones are a bit more easy to perform, to understand. Here  we see the pattern of a monstrous and utterly evil act, emerging from smaller evils. Here we see again a system at work, the system that is ‘bigger’ than all of the individual parts in the system.

And the other way round. I will never forget the ‘maths’ of destruction, were Littell boils down the abstract number of death to the number of death per month, per week, per day, per hour and per minute.

Video me

Thursday, December 11th, 2008

It might be considered as not very modest to show a video. But it was the first time for me to win the Esomar Award for best paper (based on a narrative project for the designated driver). And the first and probably last video interview. So I do post it :-)

Click here for the link

Hovever, if you really want to see something outstanding, check out the video about De Soto. He had the most inspiring keynote speach I ever heard.

Click here

What we dream of

Thursday, November 27th, 2008

Can’t help to expand a little bit about the precious stones I found in the White tiger.

One wisecracker for just for fun – a profound analysis of fashion development (page 225):

“The dreams of the rich, and the dreams of the poor – they never overlap, do they? See, the poor dream all their lives of getting enough to eat and looking like the rich. And what do th rich dream of? Losing weight and looking like the poor.”

One about the moral effects of literature (page 125).

“Just because drivers and cooks in Dehli are reading Murder Weekly, it doesn’t mean that they are all about to slit their masters necks. Of course, they’d like to. Of course a billion servants are secretly fantasizing about strangling their bosses – and that’s why the governement if India publishes this magazine and sells it on the streets for just four and a half rupees so that even the poor can buy it. You see, the murderer in the magazine is so mentally disturbed and sexually deranged that not one reader would want te be like him – and in the end he always gets caught by some honest, hardworking police officer (ha!), or goes mad and hangs himself (…)”

The latter mingles perfectly well with the idea of half baked ideas that govern our lifes, rather then rational notions that economists would like us to believe (the assumpion of rational behaviour being the fundaments of most economic theory and therefor for much of the policy our administrations tries to implement).

Half baked

Wednesday, November 26th, 2008

Reading a good book often is like sticking your hand into a ‘grab bag’. You find text in the book that you can savour, little diamonds of truth. For some reason phrases sometimes act like keys, they open up a chamber of thought that you forgot about.

A rich source was the White tiger from Aravind Adiga that I wrote about a few days ago. Check out this part of a phrase (page 11 in the paperback edetion (Atlantic books London):

(…) all these ideas, half formed and half digested and half correct, mix up with other half-cooked ideas in your head, and I guess these half formed ideas bugger one another, and make more half formed ideas, and this is what you act on and live with.

I don’t think I ever read a more adequate description of how human gather knowledge and form ideas about the world. I particulary like the evolutionary aspect about it (the ideas in our head bugger each other and create new species). But the most striking blow in the head of any rationalist approach to societal affairs is the concluding: ‘this is what you act on and live with’.

I am in favour of mixing the Nobel prize for fiction with sociology.