Sep 27, 2023
Ciascuno di noi è completamente isolato in se stesso anche se tra noi i rapporti sono strettissimi, la vita intera altro non è se non il tentativo ininterrotto di ritrovarsi.
Thomas Bernard
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Ciascuno di noi è completamente isolato in se stesso anche se tra noi i rapporti sono strettissimi, la vita intera altro non è se non il tentativo ininterrotto di ritrovarsi.
Thomas Bernard
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"Our great philosophers, our greatest poets, shrivel down to a single successful sentence, he said, I thought, that’s the truth, often we remember only a so-called philosophical hue, he said, I thought. We study a monumental work, for example Kant’s work, and in time it shrivels down to Kant’s little East Prussian head and to a thoroughly amorphous world of night and fog, which winds up in the same state of helplessness as all the others, he said, I thought. He wanted it to be a monumental world and only a single ridiculous detail is left, he said, I thought, that’s how it always is. Even Shakespeare shrivels down to something ridiculous for us in a clearheaded moment, he said, I thought. For a long time now the gods appear to us only in the heads on our beer steins, he said, I thought. Only a stupid person is amazed, he said, I thought. The so-called intellectual consumes himself in what he considers pathbreaking work and in the end has only succeeded in making himself ridiculous, whether he’s called Schopenhauer or Nietzsche, it doesn’t matter, even if he was Kleist or Voltaire we still see a pitiful being who has misused his head and finally driven himself into nonsense. Who’s been rolled over and passed over by history. We’ve locked up the great thinkers in our bookcases, from which they keep staring at us, sentenced to eternal ridicule, he said, I thought. Day and night I hear the chatter of the great thinkers we’ve locked up in our bookcases, these ridiculous intellectual giants as shrunken heads behind glass, he said, I thought. All these people have sinned against nature, he said, they’ve committed first-degree murders of the intellect, that’s why they’ve been punished and stuck in our bookcases for eternity. For they’re choking to death in our bookcases, that’s the truth. Our libraries are so to speak prisons where we’ve locked up our intellectual giants, naturally Kant has been put in solitary confinement, like Nietzsche, like Schopenhauer, like Pascal, like Voltaire, like Montaigne, all the real giants have been put in solitary confinement, all the others in mass confinement, but everyone for ever and ever, my friend, for all time and unto eternity, my friend, that’s the truth."
"But people didn’t understand what I meant, as usual—when I say something, they don’t understand it, for what I say doesn’t mean that I said what I said, he said, I thought. I say something, he said, I thought, and I’m saying something completely different—thus I’ve spent my entire life in misunderstandings, in nothing but misunderstandings, he said, I thought. We are, to put it precisely, born into misunderstanding and never escape this condition of misunderstanding as long as we live—we can squirm and twist as much as we like, it doesn’t help. But everyone can see this, he said, I thought—for everyone says something repeatedly and is misunderstood, this is the only point where everybody understands everybody else, he said, I thought."
"We’re constantly correcting, and correcting ourselves, most rigorously, because we recognize at every moment that we did it all wrong (wrote it, thought it, made it all wrong), acted all wrong, how we acted all wrong, that everything to this point in time is a falsification, so we correct this falsification, and then we again correct the correction of this falsification and we correct the result of the correction of a correction andsoforth."
"Whoever can't laugh doesn't deserve to be taken seriously..."
Thomas Bernhard, The Loser
Meine äußerst informative Grafik, die literarische und autobiografische Tendenzen vergleicht und anhand dieses triangularen Spektrums kategorisiert.
Ma non riesco a smentirmi mai, debbo mostrarmi così come sono.
E mentre lo Stato e mentre la società e mentre la massa fanno di tutto per eliminare il pensiero, dice Oehler, noi ci opponiamo a questi sviluppi con tutti i mezzi a nostra disposizione, anche se noi stessi per la maggior parte del tempo crediamo all'insensatezza del pensiero, perché sappiamo che il pensiero è piena insensatezza, ma perché - d'altra parte - sappiamo con altrettanta precisione che noi senza l'insensatezza del pensiero non siamo, ovvero non siamo nulla.
Thomas Bernhard, Camminare, Adelphi 2018.
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‘I am happy only when I am traveling; when I arrive, no matter where, I am suddenly the unhappiest person imaginable. Basically I am one of those people who cannot bear to be anywhere and are happy only between places.’
Thomas Bernard, Wittgenstein’s Nephew
"[E]verybody's poised above the abyss: but some people are always managing to shove the others over the edge: you can't postpone your being shoved over until you've finished living, that isn't permitted, that would be a lie, that would be impertinent, that would be idiotic..."
"[I]t's the abyss that keeps us all alive, only the abyss..."
― from On the Mountain (tr. Russell Stockman)
Az öngyilkosság elkövetése helyett az emberek munkába mennek.
Thomas Bernard
nap, mint nap
Richard Baquié Nuit blanche, matin gris, jour noir. Vernissage le 14 octobre 2017 à midi ! 14.10.2017 - 25.11.2017 https://www.facebook.com/events/293159351171712/?ti=icl Histoire des métaphysiques quotidiennes, 1993 Cafetière, verre, acier / Coffe maker, glass, steel 70 x 25 cm, photo : Rebecca Fanuele Richard Baquié (1952-1996) Vingt ans après La figure de Richard Baquié apparaît en plein milieu d’un siècle qui réinvente, après le verdict de Marcel Duchamp et l’investigation d’un nouveau continent anthropologique, la notion d’objet sculptural. La fin de l’ère de la mécanisation, la réévaluation des pratiques vernaculaires, la présence de l’immense chantier que constituent les suites de la guerre, l’extinction de l’industrialisation, les répercussions du consumérisme, conduisent les artistes à explorer, en particulier au travers du Pop Art aux USA, du Nouveau Réalisme en Europe, un champ où la sculpture redéfinit ses moyens, se libère des conventions usuelles pour venir s’abreuver à toutes les ressources visuelles, formelles, allégoriques, imaginaires, issues de ces décombres. Chacun travaillant spécifiquement à dépecer, dénombrer, sélectionner les différentes composantes d’une Vanité à la mesure d’un monde révolu. Dans ce paysage d’éclipse et de relevailles, à la fois stimulant et funèbre, Richard Baquié saura, avec un sens inné de la poésie des choses, un ton à la fois léger et mélancolique, désenchanté et tendre, introduire une dimension narrative, sensible, sentimentale et biographique, qui le sauvera de toute banalité, contribuera à renouveler de fond en comble la perception de cet univers de vestiges et à lui redonner miraculeusement vie. Artiste intuitif et lucide, il ne négligera rien des différentes étapes qui avaient permis à la sculpture de s’affranchir de la lourde tyrannie de ses habitudes et de ses processus techniques. Dans une vision interdisciplinaire, décloisonnée, qui préfigure les modes déconstructifs de l’installation, qui rappelle parfois, mais sur un ton élégamment désinvolte, les pratiques de l’Arte Povera, il se plaît à faire cohabiter et dialoguer le son, la lumière, le cinéma, la photographie, le mouvement, l’eau, l’électricité, et les matériaux les plus disparates… Toutes ces structures, tous ces assemblages, se jouent avec une virtuosité désarmante, un sens ludique constant, de la diversité de leurs amalgames délibérément composites, affichant une prédilection pour la fragilité de processus issus de la récupération et du bricolage. On peut considérer la production de Richard Baquié, ainsi qu’en témoigne sa dernière réalisation, « Réplique sans titre n°1 de l’Etant donnés… »*, simulacre d’un simulacre, à savoir l’ultime message de Marcel Duchamp, comme une répartie joyeuse et impertinente à celui qu’elle se reconnaît pour géniteur et comme une invite à en déjouer l’ironie intimidante. Si l’inquiétude viscérale de l’artiste, sa perpétuelle insatisfaction, ne peuvent pas ne pas nous apparaître comme le pressentiment d’une disparition trop tôt menaçante, loin d’en être tronquée ou diminuée, son œuvre trouve aujourd’hui dans ses intuitions un surcroît de pertinence et de vitalité. Henry-Claude Cousseau Août, 2017 * Cette oeuvre figurait dans l'exposition Dioramas, Palais de Tokyo, Paris, 2017, commissariat : Claire Garnier, Laurent Le Bon, Florence Ostende. Galerie Thomas Bernard - Cortex Athletico 13, rue des Arquebusiers 75003 Paris +33 (0)1 75 50 42 65 [email protected]