Life as a piece of art. Life as life
Art is about life. It shows us life, how it was, how it is, how it should be, or let us think about that, ourselves, the world, us in the world, our lifes, the life in us, or make us recognize things, feel things and feel that we’re not alone. Life is art for me. Some will disagree. Some say; life is life, just like Opus did, na na nana na. But it depends on how you look at life. Life as every little movement or stagnation, every stimulus that comes in your nervous system. You just have to see it in another frame… Just like Marcel Duchamp did with Fountain, he put an urinoir in a museum and said it was art, now it is art. Why can’t we look at it in our bathroom and see it like art? Well I can. When I walk through Rotterdam, all I see are thousands of pictures and every picture has it’s own story. Why is he sitting next to her? What is he thinking? Where is he looking at? Is the pink color of the banner above them consciously chosen? The way the pink contrasts with the blue of the sky? The grain in the wood of the bench where they’re both sitting at?
Or try to see a conversation in the subway between two grannies as a moviescene. What is your point of view? What is their relationship? What are their goals? Who will we follow in the next scene? Where is she going to? Does she live alone? Does she have any children or grandchildren? Did her husband pass away? Does she like yoga? What does her bathroom look like and her closet? How was her youth? Did she have a carefree childhood? Are those still her real teeth? Does she have a dog? A garden? Does she like gardening? Or just look at her face like a painting; follow the lines in her face, the figures in her eyes, listen to her voice, the sound, the words she uses…
Or the balloon on the ground right before me on the street, while I’m writing this on a curb in the inner city. How did it come here? Who brought it here? Was it a little child, a boy or a girl, an older person, a student? It’s red. It’s not used. Did someone lost it or put it here? Where will it go to? Will it be taken to a home and be filled with water? Will it explode? Will it stick under someones shoe? Will it be trown away in a carbage can? And who will empty this and what carbage will it encounter, to which dump will it be transported and then what happens then?
Maybe Opus is right; life is not about art, life is about life, but we sometimes forget the life around us and take everything for granted. By seeing life as art, I see life as life.
P.S.: I miss you more and more. And I now know for certain that within 3 years when I’m done studying I will immediately return to you. You’re so full of life. Rotterdam, I love you.
Lots of love, Lindsay
Photo: Wikipedia (CC-BY-SA-2.5)