« ANIMAL MEN | MY HIDDEN ARTIST (from june 2009) » |
I rewrite this commentary which has been erased.
In fact, it started with the hand full of pills. I cut it out and began looking for a matching photo. The idea was “addiction”, the promise of happiness and death. But I got stuck; I didn't find anything I liked. Only something very illustrative. And I don't want a univocal collage, a clear message like in propaganda. It’s not what I am looking for. So at last, I found the picture of the woman and then the one with the torn face. It was like in a dream when I put it against the hand: I felt that I had it done. Why? Because I followed form, not content, I gave over to my hidden artist (or my intuition) who knows better than me. How? My wife is surely right when she thinks that as a little Jewish boy in Germany, language was dangerous, so I developed a way of thinking in pictures, before elaborating words. They come afterwards, when I am looking at my collage: I understand that the nurturing of the hungry girl is an ambiguous gesture made of love and murder. André says that those pictures come from far away, even before childhood, in hidden memories I am unconscious of. The hidden artist gives me the chance to carry out this heritage which reveals itself without giving the key to a rational understanding. The enigma remains, but I can glean some apercus. This explains why I am so dissatisfied with univocal pictures. Which pill is the right one? Or should one refrain from taking any of them? Is it like Pandora’s box or the ticket to heaven?
Form is loading...
You must be logged in to see the comments. Log in now!