lørdag 12. september 2015
lørdag 5. september 2015
SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT MONTEVERDI'S ORFEO
Just some few hours left before the premiere of Monteverdi's Orfeo in Vilnius today. We know the myth of Orfeo pretty well - the story about the demi-God that loses his beloved Euridice, travels to the underworld to retrieve her, but loses her again, and this time irretrievably - as he turns around to look at her before they are safely back. And then in the end he joins Apollo to ascend to heaven.... followed by a rather triumphant choir and orcestral ending.
After working on the music for a long time, I have come to really appreciate it. Musically it is of course a masterpiece, but that alone is not enough to make it not boring - at least not for me!
Orfeo's loss of Euridice is (to me) interesting not because he is a half-god, but it becomes interesting only if he is a real person. Every day, some lose what they love most in the world: a parent, a wife, a child. We see in Europe today refugees that have lost absolutely everything they had - their homes, their loved ones. I worked for two years as a Norwegian teacher for refugees in Norway, and I have met some of them. These people have been to the underworld. Some of them never manages to come back - physically or mentally. Some of them do manage to come back, but they never come back the same again. They have seen a darkness that they can never unsee. As does Orfeo.
I don't take his trip to the underworld literally. It is his mental underworld, the abyss of his mind, his desperate hope to see Euridice just one more time.
It is interesting that after Euridice's death, there are no more "real people" in the opera. No friends. No family, only gods and mythical creatures, who are only dreams and fantasies. From here on, Orfeo is completely alone in his own mind.
At some point, the similarities to Wilhelm Müller / Franz Schubert's Winterreise started to appear to me. Throughout Winterreise, the traveller does not meet a single person. There are vague memories of her, and there are disturbed thought of dogs chasing him and crows throwing snowballs at him, but noone else. No talks, no conversations! Until in the last song he meets the hurdy-gurdy man, as Orfeo meets Apollo. It is not clear who this old man in Winterreise is - is he finally a human being, a way out of the loneliness, is he a symbol of madness or a symbol of death. We don't know.
But the traveller says to him: "Wunderlicher Alter, Soll ich mit dir gehn? Willst zu meinen Liedern Deine Leier drehn?"
So Müller's traveller is also a singer. A singer that has become quiet, because he has no one to sing to or nothing to sing about anymore, just as Orfeo says that Euridice was the only worthy of his songs and lyre. And now it will be quiet.
There exists a production where Orfeo commits suicide in the end - Apollo leads him away from this world, for sure, but in a brutally direct way. For those that would find that ending shocking - it is quite in line with the Orfeo MYTH, where in one version he also commits suicide. But I also found it absolutely "logical". The old man in Winterreise is for me the end, the death, be it physical or mental. And so with Apollo in Orfeo - there is no glory in it. In best case, there might be rest at last.
Many say that "Orfeo" is about the power of music. In my mind: yes and no. For me, it is about communication and expressing.
I imagine Orfeo as a person that is maybe not such a good talker. His way of communicating is music. And we all have our ways of communicating: some of us express ourselves best through music, some through words, some through paintings, some through body language. We might even express ourselves best not to other humans, but to nature or to animals. But express ourselves we must - it is what makes us human and what makes it worth living.
When Orfeo loses Euridice, he loses his music. Playing and singing is of no comfort to him anymore. And by losing that, he loses his way of relating to other people, and that is how he - so clearly in the opera - becomes alone. I am in no way any Orfeo, but there was a period in my life I completely lost the will to sing - I had nothing to sing about - and the pain of that was excruciating. My story is not Orfeo's story, I am far, far too blessed with joys, but there are people who, as Orfeo, lose their wish, or will, or ability to express themselves, and thereby to relate.
Monteverdi's Orfeo is for me about terrible loss: The loss of something or someone we hold dear, and the loss of ourselves. We can see pictures of people with such losses on our TV-screens everyday now, and there is an Orfeo in all of them!
To portray this on stage? An overwhelming task, and maybe not in my powers, but if I can make someone in the audience tonight feel just a tiny little bit of empathy for people AROUND them, then I will be very, very happy.
After working on the music for a long time, I have come to really appreciate it. Musically it is of course a masterpiece, but that alone is not enough to make it not boring - at least not for me!
Orfeo's loss of Euridice is (to me) interesting not because he is a half-god, but it becomes interesting only if he is a real person. Every day, some lose what they love most in the world: a parent, a wife, a child. We see in Europe today refugees that have lost absolutely everything they had - their homes, their loved ones. I worked for two years as a Norwegian teacher for refugees in Norway, and I have met some of them. These people have been to the underworld. Some of them never manages to come back - physically or mentally. Some of them do manage to come back, but they never come back the same again. They have seen a darkness that they can never unsee. As does Orfeo.
I don't take his trip to the underworld literally. It is his mental underworld, the abyss of his mind, his desperate hope to see Euridice just one more time.
It is interesting that after Euridice's death, there are no more "real people" in the opera. No friends. No family, only gods and mythical creatures, who are only dreams and fantasies. From here on, Orfeo is completely alone in his own mind.
At some point, the similarities to Wilhelm Müller / Franz Schubert's Winterreise started to appear to me. Throughout Winterreise, the traveller does not meet a single person. There are vague memories of her, and there are disturbed thought of dogs chasing him and crows throwing snowballs at him, but noone else. No talks, no conversations! Until in the last song he meets the hurdy-gurdy man, as Orfeo meets Apollo. It is not clear who this old man in Winterreise is - is he finally a human being, a way out of the loneliness, is he a symbol of madness or a symbol of death. We don't know.
But the traveller says to him: "Wunderlicher Alter, Soll ich mit dir gehn? Willst zu meinen Liedern Deine Leier drehn?"
So Müller's traveller is also a singer. A singer that has become quiet, because he has no one to sing to or nothing to sing about anymore, just as Orfeo says that Euridice was the only worthy of his songs and lyre. And now it will be quiet.
There exists a production where Orfeo commits suicide in the end - Apollo leads him away from this world, for sure, but in a brutally direct way. For those that would find that ending shocking - it is quite in line with the Orfeo MYTH, where in one version he also commits suicide. But I also found it absolutely "logical". The old man in Winterreise is for me the end, the death, be it physical or mental. And so with Apollo in Orfeo - there is no glory in it. In best case, there might be rest at last.
Many say that "Orfeo" is about the power of music. In my mind: yes and no. For me, it is about communication and expressing.
I imagine Orfeo as a person that is maybe not such a good talker. His way of communicating is music. And we all have our ways of communicating: some of us express ourselves best through music, some through words, some through paintings, some through body language. We might even express ourselves best not to other humans, but to nature or to animals. But express ourselves we must - it is what makes us human and what makes it worth living.
When Orfeo loses Euridice, he loses his music. Playing and singing is of no comfort to him anymore. And by losing that, he loses his way of relating to other people, and that is how he - so clearly in the opera - becomes alone. I am in no way any Orfeo, but there was a period in my life I completely lost the will to sing - I had nothing to sing about - and the pain of that was excruciating. My story is not Orfeo's story, I am far, far too blessed with joys, but there are people who, as Orfeo, lose their wish, or will, or ability to express themselves, and thereby to relate.
Monteverdi's Orfeo is for me about terrible loss: The loss of something or someone we hold dear, and the loss of ourselves. We can see pictures of people with such losses on our TV-screens everyday now, and there is an Orfeo in all of them!
To portray this on stage? An overwhelming task, and maybe not in my powers, but if I can make someone in the audience tonight feel just a tiny little bit of empathy for people AROUND them, then I will be very, very happy.
fredag 24. oktober 2014
Vet DU om Franz Schubert?
I motsetning til de artistene som nå står frem og forteller at de har underholdt på eldre- og sykehjem titalls ganger, må jeg innrømme at jeg bare har gjort det to ganger. En av de gangene fikk jeg imidlertid en lærepenge som jeg aldri kommer til å glemme!
Gjennom en venn av meg ble jeg invitert til å å underholde en drøy halvtime for en gruppe eldre fra et eldresenter i Oslo. Akkurat da hadde jeg nettopp laget en forestilling om Franz Schubert, der vi brukte en lang rekke utdrag fra brev, dagbøker og memoarer fra Schuberts venner og samtidige. Jeg var ikke helt sikker på om det var noen som kom til å passe - kanskje det var litt i vel avanserte laget - men jeg bestemte meg for å bruke en litt nedkortet og enklere versjon.
Omgitt av 30-40 vel eldre damer og menn introduserte vi oss, jeg og pianisten. Så skulle vi altså begynne, jeg famlet i noen sekunder etter en passende introduksjon, og så glipper det ulykksalige ut av meg:
- Vi skal synge endel sanger av - og fortelle litt om - Franz Schubert. Vet dere hvem Franz Schubert var?
Dørgende stille i noen sekunder. Og så kommer det tørt fra høyre side:
- Jeg var musikkskolerektor i 30 år. Jeg vet godt hvem Franz Schubert var.
Jeg kunne bitt av meg tungen, for plutselig skjønte jeg hvor katastrofalt jeg hadde feilvurdert publikummet mitt. De var jo eldre, ikke sant? Noen med høreapparat, noen satt i rullestol, mange hadde stokk og noen hadde litt skjelvende stemmer. Så naturligvis hadde jeg henvendt meg til dem med en barnslig stemme og spurt enkelt: Vet dere hvem Franz Schubert er?
Det viste seg at en i mitt publikum hadde vært musikkskolerektor. En hadde vært pianolærer. En hadde vært fiolinist. Mange av dem hadde hatt en lang yrkesbakgrunn innen humaniora, og takk, de visste utmerket godt hvem Schubert var. Musikkskolerektoren visste betydelig mer om Schubert enn meg!
Regjeringen ønsker å avslutte Den kulturelle skolesekken og overlate til syke- og hjelpepleierne å synge og underholde litt. En ting er det helt absurde i det at sykepleiere som i mange tilfeller knapt nok har tid til å gi eldre det stellet de trenger, nå skal sette av tid til å synge og å underholde.
Det som jeg synes er enda verre, er at regjeringen gjør den samme feilen som jeg gjorde: De undervurderer sitt publikum fullstendig.
De er jo eldre, ikke sant? Noen med høreapparat, noen sitter i rullestol, mange har stokk og noen har litt skjelvende stemmer, noen husker kanskje litt dårlig. Alt det de trenger er jo noen som synger litt for dem. Det synes de er så koselig. Om de som synger for dem, er flinke eller ikke, er da ikke så viktig. De på pleiehjemmet vet antakelig ikke hvem Franz Schubert er!
Men blant de eldre sitter det musikkskolerektorer, musikere, musikk- og kulturinteresserte, folk med høy utdannelse, folk som vet forskjellen på det som er av høy kvalitet og det som er av dårlig kvalitet. Kan noen forklare med hvorfr disse menneskene ikke lenger har RETT på å få høre gode kunstnere, gode artister, god musikk?
Det regjeringen nå gjør, er å nedgradere disse menneskene på samme måte som jeg gjorde, å se på dem som små barn som man kan avspise med annenrangs..
Denne nedgraderingen er den største skammen ved regjeringens forslag!
Gjennom en venn av meg ble jeg invitert til å å underholde en drøy halvtime for en gruppe eldre fra et eldresenter i Oslo. Akkurat da hadde jeg nettopp laget en forestilling om Franz Schubert, der vi brukte en lang rekke utdrag fra brev, dagbøker og memoarer fra Schuberts venner og samtidige. Jeg var ikke helt sikker på om det var noen som kom til å passe - kanskje det var litt i vel avanserte laget - men jeg bestemte meg for å bruke en litt nedkortet og enklere versjon.
Omgitt av 30-40 vel eldre damer og menn introduserte vi oss, jeg og pianisten. Så skulle vi altså begynne, jeg famlet i noen sekunder etter en passende introduksjon, og så glipper det ulykksalige ut av meg:
- Vi skal synge endel sanger av - og fortelle litt om - Franz Schubert. Vet dere hvem Franz Schubert var?
Dørgende stille i noen sekunder. Og så kommer det tørt fra høyre side:
- Jeg var musikkskolerektor i 30 år. Jeg vet godt hvem Franz Schubert var.
Jeg kunne bitt av meg tungen, for plutselig skjønte jeg hvor katastrofalt jeg hadde feilvurdert publikummet mitt. De var jo eldre, ikke sant? Noen med høreapparat, noen satt i rullestol, mange hadde stokk og noen hadde litt skjelvende stemmer. Så naturligvis hadde jeg henvendt meg til dem med en barnslig stemme og spurt enkelt: Vet dere hvem Franz Schubert er?
Det viste seg at en i mitt publikum hadde vært musikkskolerektor. En hadde vært pianolærer. En hadde vært fiolinist. Mange av dem hadde hatt en lang yrkesbakgrunn innen humaniora, og takk, de visste utmerket godt hvem Schubert var. Musikkskolerektoren visste betydelig mer om Schubert enn meg!
Regjeringen ønsker å avslutte Den kulturelle skolesekken og overlate til syke- og hjelpepleierne å synge og underholde litt. En ting er det helt absurde i det at sykepleiere som i mange tilfeller knapt nok har tid til å gi eldre det stellet de trenger, nå skal sette av tid til å synge og å underholde.
Det som jeg synes er enda verre, er at regjeringen gjør den samme feilen som jeg gjorde: De undervurderer sitt publikum fullstendig.
De er jo eldre, ikke sant? Noen med høreapparat, noen sitter i rullestol, mange har stokk og noen har litt skjelvende stemmer, noen husker kanskje litt dårlig. Alt det de trenger er jo noen som synger litt for dem. Det synes de er så koselig. Om de som synger for dem, er flinke eller ikke, er da ikke så viktig. De på pleiehjemmet vet antakelig ikke hvem Franz Schubert er!
Men blant de eldre sitter det musikkskolerektorer, musikere, musikk- og kulturinteresserte, folk med høy utdannelse, folk som vet forskjellen på det som er av høy kvalitet og det som er av dårlig kvalitet. Kan noen forklare med hvorfr disse menneskene ikke lenger har RETT på å få høre gode kunstnere, gode artister, god musikk?
Det regjeringen nå gjør, er å nedgradere disse menneskene på samme måte som jeg gjorde, å se på dem som små barn som man kan avspise med annenrangs..
Denne nedgraderingen er den største skammen ved regjeringens forslag!
mandag 28. april 2014
RUSSIA - I
Back row, right. This is me. It is late summer 1991, and a group of 7 Norwegian studens are at Arlanda airport, on their way to spend one year as as exchange students in the Soviet Unions. My town was Krasnodar, a Russian town of 700000 inhabitants, a bit east of the Black Sea, close to the Caucasus mountains.
I have no idea what I am doing!
Whenever I am asked why I chose to go to Russia, I answer that I have no idea. Like a lot of youngsters at my age, I wanted to go to USA, but not long before the final decision was made, some representatives from AFS informed us that they were going to send students to Russia for the first time ever, and maybe that would be interesting for me? I remember that I thought it was a pretty bad idea, while my parents thought it was a pretty good idea. Than a some point, our opinions changed. My parents came to think that it was a pretty bad idea, while I came to think it was a pretty good idea. Why this change came to happen, I do not know.
I remember leaving Trondheim on the train. I don't remember if I was nervous or not. I waved goodbye to my parents, who looked infinitely more nervous than me, and sat down to read a book.
What did we know about Russia? I remember having discussions in class at secondary school - which was some 5 years earlier - about the possibility of nuclear war. We were about 13-14 years old and had pretty much no idea what we were talking about. We were not really afraid, but we were still late children of the Cold War. And I remember that opening of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, I was at the cabin with my parents, glued to the TV screen. And not a single awake person in Norway did not know who Mikhail Gorbachev was.
And still we knew approximately nothing about what Russia really looked like, what people were like, how they lived, habits, clothes, family traditions. Not only did I - an 18 year old boy - know nothing, but I understand that also my parents knew absolutely nothing, which was probably the reason they in the end tried to convince me the idea was not so good. I am still wondering why they let me go at all - probably they understood that - despite the risks - this might become an unbelievable experience. Before we left, I was writing a little bit back and forth with my host family. They sent postcards from Krasnodar and wrote a little bit about themselves (I later found out that I had actually been writing with ANOTHER family) - that they were a "typical middle class family". I came from a typical middle class family in Norway. A typical Russian "middle class family" was not the same as what we defined as a Norwegian "middle class family."!
Sheremetevo airport in Moscow was our first meeting with the Soviet Union. Passport control. We were standing in endless lines in a tight underground corridor to have our passports checked, and they were checked by soldiers with guns, but absolutely no smiles. A girl in our little group had changed quite a lot (!!) since she took her passport photo, he looked in disbelief at her face, at the photo, back and forth, and then disappeared. He came back with an officer carrying a machine gun (sic), they discussed the passport back and forth for minutes, before they let her pass. It was an experience scary as hell.
Small jump ahead: My host family consisted of a grandma, parents and two children. They had a son that moved for a year to France not long after I came, and then there was my host sister. She was 5-6 (?) years younger than me, desperately sad that her older brother went away, and not overly happy that another boy came into the family. She became my very best friend. We had little or no common language the first days. My host brother spoke some French and a friend of his that visited the family a lot spoke quite well English, so he helped me a lot. Besides from that, it was a lot of pointing, drawing and waiving hands. I remember one of the first evenings - they served chicken, and as I was not completely sure how chicken was eaten in Russia, I grabbed the fork and knife by the plate (so, Russians would eat chicken with knife and fork... Weird, but OK) and awkwardly started eating chicken with knife and spoon - as did everyone else. It was not until the end of the year that I learned that they would never had eaten with knife and fork, but they were not sure what Norwegians did. And as I grabbed the utensils, so did they.. :D
I had the most fantastic host family, understanding, explaining, caring! They gave me all the best they could give, they never scolded me for they stupid things I must have done, they gave me all the love and support you could hope for from a family.
And so it started....
After I came back from Russia, I continued studying Russian language, literature and history at universities in Norway. For different reasons it never led to a profession connected to Russia, and I have only returned to Russia once since then. But, I doubt that I would have been living in Lithuania now if it had not been for that experience 23 years ago - I somehow feel that history has taken a turn and has caught up with me.
We lived for half a year in the Soviet Union, half a year in Russia, and we experienced through some pretty dramatic events the fall of the Soviet Union.
I have no idea what I am doing!
Whenever I am asked why I chose to go to Russia, I answer that I have no idea. Like a lot of youngsters at my age, I wanted to go to USA, but not long before the final decision was made, some representatives from AFS informed us that they were going to send students to Russia for the first time ever, and maybe that would be interesting for me? I remember that I thought it was a pretty bad idea, while my parents thought it was a pretty good idea. Than a some point, our opinions changed. My parents came to think that it was a pretty bad idea, while I came to think it was a pretty good idea. Why this change came to happen, I do not know.
I remember leaving Trondheim on the train. I don't remember if I was nervous or not. I waved goodbye to my parents, who looked infinitely more nervous than me, and sat down to read a book.
What did we know about Russia? I remember having discussions in class at secondary school - which was some 5 years earlier - about the possibility of nuclear war. We were about 13-14 years old and had pretty much no idea what we were talking about. We were not really afraid, but we were still late children of the Cold War. And I remember that opening of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, I was at the cabin with my parents, glued to the TV screen. And not a single awake person in Norway did not know who Mikhail Gorbachev was.
And still we knew approximately nothing about what Russia really looked like, what people were like, how they lived, habits, clothes, family traditions. Not only did I - an 18 year old boy - know nothing, but I understand that also my parents knew absolutely nothing, which was probably the reason they in the end tried to convince me the idea was not so good. I am still wondering why they let me go at all - probably they understood that - despite the risks - this might become an unbelievable experience. Before we left, I was writing a little bit back and forth with my host family. They sent postcards from Krasnodar and wrote a little bit about themselves (I later found out that I had actually been writing with ANOTHER family) - that they were a "typical middle class family". I came from a typical middle class family in Norway. A typical Russian "middle class family" was not the same as what we defined as a Norwegian "middle class family."!
Sheremetevo airport in Moscow was our first meeting with the Soviet Union. Passport control. We were standing in endless lines in a tight underground corridor to have our passports checked, and they were checked by soldiers with guns, but absolutely no smiles. A girl in our little group had changed quite a lot (!!) since she took her passport photo, he looked in disbelief at her face, at the photo, back and forth, and then disappeared. He came back with an officer carrying a machine gun (sic), they discussed the passport back and forth for minutes, before they let her pass. It was an experience scary as hell.
Small jump ahead: My host family consisted of a grandma, parents and two children. They had a son that moved for a year to France not long after I came, and then there was my host sister. She was 5-6 (?) years younger than me, desperately sad that her older brother went away, and not overly happy that another boy came into the family. She became my very best friend. We had little or no common language the first days. My host brother spoke some French and a friend of his that visited the family a lot spoke quite well English, so he helped me a lot. Besides from that, it was a lot of pointing, drawing and waiving hands. I remember one of the first evenings - they served chicken, and as I was not completely sure how chicken was eaten in Russia, I grabbed the fork and knife by the plate (so, Russians would eat chicken with knife and fork... Weird, but OK) and awkwardly started eating chicken with knife and spoon - as did everyone else. It was not until the end of the year that I learned that they would never had eaten with knife and fork, but they were not sure what Norwegians did. And as I grabbed the utensils, so did they.. :D
I had the most fantastic host family, understanding, explaining, caring! They gave me all the best they could give, they never scolded me for they stupid things I must have done, they gave me all the love and support you could hope for from a family.
And so it started....
After I came back from Russia, I continued studying Russian language, literature and history at universities in Norway. For different reasons it never led to a profession connected to Russia, and I have only returned to Russia once since then. But, I doubt that I would have been living in Lithuania now if it had not been for that experience 23 years ago - I somehow feel that history has taken a turn and has caught up with me.
We lived for half a year in the Soviet Union, half a year in Russia, and we experienced through some pretty dramatic events the fall of the Soviet Union.
mandag 7. april 2014
Like water after the desert
It was like finding water after being in the desert for far too long, except that I did not know that I had been in the desert. I did not know how thirsty I was until I got something to drink. And I did not know how much is missed art until it was there in front of me.
I cannot remember when I was last at a museum, but we went to the Es Baluard Museum in Palma today, and suddenly I became completely overwhelmed. Seeing the drawings of Joan Miro - drawings that many maybe would dismiss as worthless scriblings - was such an eye-opener. It was like suddenly drinking water after being in the desert for too long - except that I did not know that I was thirsty. I came out of there feeling refreshed, with my mind being scrubbed and cleaned, at the same time fulfilled, but also with a need to see more art, to collect pictures, to find out what appeals to me or not, and to find some way to merge the art that I am sometimes doing myself (but that too often feels not like art but like work and concentration) with other artistic expressions.
Why are Miro's drawings art? I don't know! I really don't know, but I started wondering about it in the museum. I know that Miro is a famous painter, but I have to admit that I had little or no experience with his art. The closes I get in genre is Picasso - whom I love. But I know that Miro is famous, and I was wondering for a second if this knowledge - and the expectation of seeing great art - automatically made my mind interpret these drawings as - and see them as -great art. Would I have seen the same if someone had told me they were made by a young child or a drunkard. I honestly do not know. But there is also something that I OBJECTIVELY admire in the paintings: The assuredness of the lines and shapes, the perfect balance in how the surface is covered with colors and weight.
Many of this strange drawings give me much, much more than a painting that is "perfect" in the sense that every brush stroke is there, finished, or a painting that gives a clear visual representation of an object - like an elk in sunset. They make me wonder what the painter could see or wanted to tell, they make me probe myself to "see" something in the pictures. And that is what art is,I guess, something much more than a representation of the existing, but an interpretation, a de- and re-construction. And art is maybe the constant question of what art is.
I was standing in front of these Miro-drawings and feeling really happy and joyful. They provoked me to try to find out why I liked them, why they made me happy and why they so clearly are art to me. I have been so busy with other things that it has been far too long since I have been standing in front of a picture like that, allowing it to capture me.
I cannot remember when I was last at a museum, but we went to the Es Baluard Museum in Palma today, and suddenly I became completely overwhelmed. Seeing the drawings of Joan Miro - drawings that many maybe would dismiss as worthless scriblings - was such an eye-opener. It was like suddenly drinking water after being in the desert for too long - except that I did not know that I was thirsty. I came out of there feeling refreshed, with my mind being scrubbed and cleaned, at the same time fulfilled, but also with a need to see more art, to collect pictures, to find out what appeals to me or not, and to find some way to merge the art that I am sometimes doing myself (but that too often feels not like art but like work and concentration) with other artistic expressions.
Why are Miro's drawings art? I don't know! I really don't know, but I started wondering about it in the museum. I know that Miro is a famous painter, but I have to admit that I had little or no experience with his art. The closes I get in genre is Picasso - whom I love. But I know that Miro is famous, and I was wondering for a second if this knowledge - and the expectation of seeing great art - automatically made my mind interpret these drawings as - and see them as -great art. Would I have seen the same if someone had told me they were made by a young child or a drunkard. I honestly do not know. But there is also something that I OBJECTIVELY admire in the paintings: The assuredness of the lines and shapes, the perfect balance in how the surface is covered with colors and weight.
Many of this strange drawings give me much, much more than a painting that is "perfect" in the sense that every brush stroke is there, finished, or a painting that gives a clear visual representation of an object - like an elk in sunset. They make me wonder what the painter could see or wanted to tell, they make me probe myself to "see" something in the pictures. And that is what art is,I guess, something much more than a representation of the existing, but an interpretation, a de- and re-construction. And art is maybe the constant question of what art is.
I was standing in front of these Miro-drawings and feeling really happy and joyful. They provoked me to try to find out why I liked them, why they made me happy and why they so clearly are art to me. I have been so busy with other things that it has been far too long since I have been standing in front of a picture like that, allowing it to capture me.
fredag 17. januar 2014
HEREBY PUBLICLY DEFYING THE FAMILY: NOW BLOODY SUE ME!!!
Could anybody please, please tell me how I can publicly DEFY the family as "moral value." Because if I find out how to do that, I really would like to.
"Publically" is easy enough to interpret: I can stand on a street corner with a poster, or maybe a public blog post is more than enough? But what is it exactly to "defy the family"? Should I say that "the family" is a really shitty idea, or is it enough to say that the "old" concept of mother/father/children is outdated as the "only" concept of family. Tell me, because I really would like to know!
And then I would like the Lithuanian state to sue me!!
The admirable MP Petras Gražulis, one of the most disgusting persons ever to set foot in a parliament, has proposed an amendment to the Lithuanian Code of Administrative Violations:
Again according to lithuaniatribune.com:
Just the thought that such an idea could become law is not only idiotic, it is completely sickening. The idea is that the state should define what is "moral", and that any defiance of the state defined "morality" is illegal. How this could be combined with freedom of speech is beyond my understanding, and it is scary to think what a slippery slope this is:
If the state is to define moral, and opposition to moral is illegal, there is no saying where this could possibly end. It bears resemblance to Russia, where a law prohibiting "gay propaganda directed towards children" often is interpreted so widely that holding hands for a gay couple could be seen as a criminal offence. Even worse, it creates a public atmosphere where the public is "taught" to see certain groups as criminals - and the public will do the punishment so the state will not have to.
It bears resemblance to what is happening in Ukraine, where utterances defaming politicians are now illegal. Yes, it does bear resemblance, because this political censorship is also often disguised as "protecting the state moral".
For a state to define what is moral, and then to persecute those that oppose this moral, is an important sted towards a totalitarian system. Uncountable state crimes have been committed under the pretext of "moral," in nazi-Germany, in the Soviet Union.. And as a rule, the "moral" has always been turned against weaker social groups!
This is what it is about here also! It started as a moral crusade against homosexuals and gays, with futile, scandalous and half-violent attempts of stopping the gay parade in Vilnius. It has continued with attempts of creating laws similar to the ones in Russia, and it continues with this.
So, what about the family??
I really would like to defy the family from the roof-tops, just to piss Gražulis off. The problem is - I don't completely know how. I do not have bad family experiences, and I do strongly believe in the family as an important social nucleus. But the traditional family can also be a bad place, a dangerous place, a place where children get hurt, where they are given traumas that will follow them through a life time, where they are neglected, where they are brought up with values they should never have had.
FAMILIES - "NORMAL", TRADITIONAL FAMILIES CAN SUCK LIKE HELL!
(Now, did I defy them properly)
The idea that as long as you only stick to the traditional, heterosexual family you are morally safe, is as dumb as it gets. What children need is a small, tight network of people around them who love them, who understand them, who support them! Am I for gay adoption? Yes, I most definitely am!! We are talking about people who are willing to take care of a child, to love a child, to protect a child as their own. Why cannot this be defined as a family? How on earth is it possible to think that a child is better off without ANY family than being adopted by a gay couple is beyond my understanding.
Yes, families are important! If the Lithuanian politicians - and society - would fight to support "normal" heterosexual families, families with gay parents, single-parent families - anyone that would act with the love and care of a family, THEN I would understand and support it.
If I claim that single `men or women and gay couples can be just as good parents and family foundations as a heterosexual-parent-couple, am I then defying the family? Would claiming this make me "eligible" for criminal prosecution?
What is going on here is moral, it is as UN-MORAL as it can possibly become. Under the pretext of moral, children are taught to see "different" people as unnatural, as un-normal and as un-moral. Children are taught that it is ok to stand on the side and shout derogative slogans at homosexuals and other "different" groups. And people who do this dare to come to the parliament with draft amendments about "moral"?
Nothing can possibly be more un-moral than this. Nothing can be more false than using the word "moral" to hurt others.
Petras Gražulis himself should be more a person to laugh at, was it not for a couple of things:
There seems to be a considerable sympathy for him in certain segments of the population. The dream of a "morally clean" nation is simply too tempting to withstand, and there are certain segments of the Lithuanian society that are blatantly intolerant. It is an important "defence line" for many countries - big as well as small - that face social problems and social insecurities: The combination of consolidating around the "national morale" and at the same time choosing social minorities as enemies.
But even worse: Before one of the gay parades in Vilnius, I had a long discussion with some young friends - intelligent, highly educated. When I asked them if they supported the idea that the parade should be banned, they said YES: Because the parade was not necessary.
THIS is more dangerous than anything else: People - and there are surprisingly many of them also among the young generation - that are willing to turn and look away when someone else gets hurt, who do not understand that the best protection of democracy is fighting desperately for the rights of people that you do not necessarily agree with.. And the thought that peoples rights can be taken away just because they - or their actions - are unnecessary is one of the most scary thoughts one could imagine.
"Publically" is easy enough to interpret: I can stand on a street corner with a poster, or maybe a public blog post is more than enough? But what is it exactly to "defy the family"? Should I say that "the family" is a really shitty idea, or is it enough to say that the "old" concept of mother/father/children is outdated as the "only" concept of family. Tell me, because I really would like to know!
And then I would like the Lithuanian state to sue me!!
 |
| Family - such a beautiful thing.. |
The admirable MP Petras Gražulis, one of the most disgusting persons ever to set foot in a parliament, has proposed an amendment to the Lithuanian Code of Administrative Violations:
"In the revised amendment it is suggested to foresee administrative responsibility for public defiance of Constitution established family values by carrying out public speeches, demonstrating goods, posters, slogans, audiovisual means and other kind of actions.
The amendment foresees that such kind of actions will result in a fine from 1,000 up to 3,000 litas (290 – 870 euros). The repeated offense would result in a fine from 3,000 up to 6,000 litas (870 – 1,740 euros)." (Source: lithuaniatribune.com).
Again according to lithuaniatribune.com:
"The Seimas Committee on State Administration and Local Authorities approves that it would be possible to punish for public defiance of family."Which means - whether the draft amendment will be law or not is one thing, but it is a suggestion that is within the legal framework of the Lithuanian state.
Just the thought that such an idea could become law is not only idiotic, it is completely sickening. The idea is that the state should define what is "moral", and that any defiance of the state defined "morality" is illegal. How this could be combined with freedom of speech is beyond my understanding, and it is scary to think what a slippery slope this is:
If the state is to define moral, and opposition to moral is illegal, there is no saying where this could possibly end. It bears resemblance to Russia, where a law prohibiting "gay propaganda directed towards children" often is interpreted so widely that holding hands for a gay couple could be seen as a criminal offence. Even worse, it creates a public atmosphere where the public is "taught" to see certain groups as criminals - and the public will do the punishment so the state will not have to.
It bears resemblance to what is happening in Ukraine, where utterances defaming politicians are now illegal. Yes, it does bear resemblance, because this political censorship is also often disguised as "protecting the state moral".
For a state to define what is moral, and then to persecute those that oppose this moral, is an important sted towards a totalitarian system. Uncountable state crimes have been committed under the pretext of "moral," in nazi-Germany, in the Soviet Union.. And as a rule, the "moral" has always been turned against weaker social groups!
This is what it is about here also! It started as a moral crusade against homosexuals and gays, with futile, scandalous and half-violent attempts of stopping the gay parade in Vilnius. It has continued with attempts of creating laws similar to the ones in Russia, and it continues with this.
So, what about the family??
I really would like to defy the family from the roof-tops, just to piss Gražulis off. The problem is - I don't completely know how. I do not have bad family experiences, and I do strongly believe in the family as an important social nucleus. But the traditional family can also be a bad place, a dangerous place, a place where children get hurt, where they are given traumas that will follow them through a life time, where they are neglected, where they are brought up with values they should never have had.
FAMILIES - "NORMAL", TRADITIONAL FAMILIES CAN SUCK LIKE HELL!
(Now, did I defy them properly)
The idea that as long as you only stick to the traditional, heterosexual family you are morally safe, is as dumb as it gets. What children need is a small, tight network of people around them who love them, who understand them, who support them! Am I for gay adoption? Yes, I most definitely am!! We are talking about people who are willing to take care of a child, to love a child, to protect a child as their own. Why cannot this be defined as a family? How on earth is it possible to think that a child is better off without ANY family than being adopted by a gay couple is beyond my understanding.
Yes, families are important! If the Lithuanian politicians - and society - would fight to support "normal" heterosexual families, families with gay parents, single-parent families - anyone that would act with the love and care of a family, THEN I would understand and support it.
If I claim that single `men or women and gay couples can be just as good parents and family foundations as a heterosexual-parent-couple, am I then defying the family? Would claiming this make me "eligible" for criminal prosecution?
What is going on here is moral, it is as UN-MORAL as it can possibly become. Under the pretext of moral, children are taught to see "different" people as unnatural, as un-normal and as un-moral. Children are taught that it is ok to stand on the side and shout derogative slogans at homosexuals and other "different" groups. And people who do this dare to come to the parliament with draft amendments about "moral"?
Nothing can possibly be more un-moral than this. Nothing can be more false than using the word "moral" to hurt others.
Petras Gražulis himself should be more a person to laugh at, was it not for a couple of things:
There seems to be a considerable sympathy for him in certain segments of the population. The dream of a "morally clean" nation is simply too tempting to withstand, and there are certain segments of the Lithuanian society that are blatantly intolerant. It is an important "defence line" for many countries - big as well as small - that face social problems and social insecurities: The combination of consolidating around the "national morale" and at the same time choosing social minorities as enemies.
But even worse: Before one of the gay parades in Vilnius, I had a long discussion with some young friends - intelligent, highly educated. When I asked them if they supported the idea that the parade should be banned, they said YES: Because the parade was not necessary.
THIS is more dangerous than anything else: People - and there are surprisingly many of them also among the young generation - that are willing to turn and look away when someone else gets hurt, who do not understand that the best protection of democracy is fighting desperately for the rights of people that you do not necessarily agree with.. And the thought that peoples rights can be taken away just because they - or their actions - are unnecessary is one of the most scary thoughts one could imagine.
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