THE UNKNOWN ARTIST AND THE CRYPT OF ANONYMITY

THE UNKNOWN ARTIST AND THE CRYPT OF ANONYMITY


Furthermore, I soon realized that I would need to "learn" the highly personnal vocabulary with which the Unknown Artist conjures up a world. And He said : All around passagers, faceless, nameless, Mister X, unspeakable news in brief, c***dren of the night (protect them), night a****ls (protect them), discreet avengers, anonymous photographers (yes, you are), burlesque, broken houses, grotesque, clandestine souls, invisible walkers, please come into the Crypt of Anonymity.


The UnknowN Artist :
Spy the two worlds
you secret pilgrims
two worlds : truth and beauty are different, don't choose
The Crypt of Anonymity wants :
art vidéo/strange video art/photo/photowriting/ straightforward drawing
bad burlesque crying
strong sad beggars
angry tramps
wonderful colors in amazing grotesque
scary circus of the secret streets
Wildfire trees and vacant lots, green grass,
green grass, green fruits,
colors, laboratory, forgotten hospital in ruins, abandoned factories
fallow
falls
industrial wasteland
hospital falling into ruin
wreckage but real injuries
invisible fiesta voodoo
fire light mardi-gras
ironic parties for sweat and dust
last garage
color, ritual improvised
death of facts diverse body of Mr X, trench free sex past, travel,
red, green, yellow, orange,
fighting, fighters, homeless, ancient f****y affair,
vagrants, beggars, wandering,
ordered men, women discrétes, double game, double life,
Diaries,
light lamp, a f***e for routine movement of crowd
Mystery Men,
daily battle, fighting street and subway
incandescence, d***kenness common
two-edged lost young gods,
young a****ls, young mountains,
true story artists
joy, pain, fast
with a double meaning
anger, angel of extermination
madness of drawing, bondage improvised paintings,
lost cause, found.
...
For me, only what is dubious is pure.
What remains indefinable, the things which one will never know the origin, it is that the purity.

I am in the position of an explorer, which aims to be a man-system. Each medium (photo, writing, video, drawing, sound research, and so on.) Leads me to a level of Reality (I did not say of Concrete). I want to identify with my behaviour and tools such f***es and movements. The ideas interest me shortly. Indeed I believe that problems exist in limited numbers, issues in unlimited numbers. So problems as areas of investigation that I choose according to their concentration accuracies: Forest, Morgue hospital, veterinary clinic, the site of waste treatment, and so on. where stir and grow "foudroyants types": the mushroom, Folle Vilaine, the carcass, the Monster, Energumène, Tree, the Beggar,… One area of investigation has its strengths, movements, number of issues. Man-system, that I strive for, entrecroise to remove references cultural and social benchmarks, to see take shape other storms, to create loopholes, to install uncertainties. Is this pure uncertain. It feeds on internal logic and constitute its organs, its substance. My behavior is the heart of my business. I am strange. I come from Vertige. I am therefore Vertige and we must not see me coming. I have more sense than feelings. Here for a part of my intention secréte… But, as one might say coincidence: the chance is a secret and I am sure my secret.
So how to cross the fire ?
Prometheus had to be the first artist, long before Apollo. This giant to make good service to ordinary people who do not so much demanded, therefore stole fire from heaven to the gods jealous of their impenetrable secrets. It has been taken. He was tried and convicted. He had liver eaten every day by a bird of great size in an ecstasy cruel. But the fire, ordinary people have yet. The gods ignore that the profane covets. An artist follows the great example Promethean. It risk. How setting? Its existence. The most beautiful is that it is admired in an ambiguity. We love his sacrifice. It is said that he is heroic and that if it dies in a logical sequence. Even when the artist leads the ceremony, it is never the priest and it needs daily to spend so much energy it is not a suicide neither. It is a giant of goodness in nature. There is an artist by nature. It's like a fatalism. The small one day wakes up in front of his bowl of milk and its cartoons and it becomes obvious that the only way is for him the way. He chose the indefinable and exploration of the intangible. It is never satisfied with the systematic against foot-and anticonformisme leading to the declaration of weakness known as social criticism. It has humor but contempt for rigolards. A sort of personal authority has invaded his muscles and his soul has gone into its muscles. His soul takes an incandescent sometimes painful. He wants to learn to cross fire.

Denis Protéor, in July 2008
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Posted by denisproteor
4 years ago    Views: 466
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3 years ago
Remarkable disertation.
4 years ago
thought provocing