terça-feira, fevereiro 08, 2011

we are our own elephant(s)

Alan Clarke's Elephant (1989)

Suddently you hear a gunshot... Think. What should I do?!. Suddently you realise there's nothing you can do. There's nothing you can think more about. It echoes in your head between the two moments of silence that isolate this one. You don't talk about it. You stay still, waiting to know if something happens. Maybe you'll hear another gun, maybe the shot you heard was the right one; was because justice had to be made, and the "good" one has shot first. Or not... you think. You keep it to yourself and Thank God I don't have a gun..., otherwise you could be the one in the middle of that second of still life, where everything stops and the camera keeps filming and someone (a nameless someone that could be you) lies there on the ground.
Instead you write about it in your blog. You try to be immortal in this immaterial space we still have left to let our spirits grow, this immaterial property (which some of us transform into an artistic place to become and add some value - we think). But we don't have any more space left, or do we?! Are we adding layers towards a limit that is in fact unattainable?
We make politics look like art, we make art about politics, we discuss art and politics, we...
(...)
You’ve been warned, my thanks and greetings.
Judgement under deliberation.

A Tale for Creating A Legal Precedent (by Patrick Bernier; translated by Simon Welch)
We produce material and transform but there's something that always stays unscreamed, that always remains silently boiling. We rebel against the things that are happening around the world, and we call the Prime Minister, we defend our beliefs, we post them and wait for a comment that soothes our restless soul.
One day we wake up and someone has taken over our life, someone (the nameless person an immaterial existence) is living for us looking for perfection, fighting and we look, we stare and hope everything goes well, we cross our fingers and wait, and think, and wait and... What's the point?! ...think.

[Unfinished... and maybe that's the way it should be... That's the way it always looks.]

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