Don’t wait for me! I’m not gonna come up with any solutions, no proposals, no promises, no nuttin. How could I, what do you think? Do you live the stupid idea that I write a blog to convince you? Are you nuts? I’m writing this because of pure and simple despair. Not because I know anything, not because have anything to offer. I’m not writing this thing in order to stay human, or in order to fence myself off the brink of madness. No, I’m very happily sane and normal. I hate showings, sketches, drafts, modesty! Showings are a cry for help. No to autonomy, no to DIY, no to management. Big no to production houses that tell you what to do! Insist – insist on the right for the independent artist to apply for subsidy. No to autonomy, be dependent, be without ties, but rely on everything. Arbitrary is already here. Be absolutely naïve and approach the work without the slightest defense. Say no – shout curses in their direction – - to those that consider minimal cool. It isn’t, it’s conservative, graphic designerish, male, Christian, heteronormative and stabilizing. It is another time now – arbitrary doo-ip doo-ip – - you aren’t making revolts by insisting on keeping it minimal, on staying on your spot – on reading Deleuze, or categorically not doing it. There is no time for revolution, no moment of ripe, time for harvest.
Fuck minimalism, it has no, nothing, nada, zilch capacity in 2010, and was never admirable. It was necessary at some point, as an act self-castrating of the one who you were not, but it was never transforming anything what-so-ever. No no, it only made the other, the dominant discourse look even more ridiculous. Minimal is the music of architects, it’s the music for those whose name is Francis but call themselves Frank, it’s music for hard on the outside and gooey on the inside (just like me). Minimal is for people, who when taking somebody home for a one night stand excuse oneself for the mess in the apartment. Minimal is for those who find it weird to masturbate fantasizing about things that don’t exist, or like fuckin a multi-vaginal mother dragon instead of a suburban MILF or the local plumber. Minimal is for selling: yeah, even if it’s boring, i.e. diverse, like a Swiss army knife it’s one thing and that’s always something that stupid folks find appealing. Minimal is for people that make fresh pasta on Saturday afternoons and can talk for hours about their espresso machines. – SHIVER -
Go romantic. Go go go. Go Rom-a’n-tique. Yes, exactly minimal is for guys who won’t admit. But fuck them, we have nothing to defend, we engage in what others’ call shame. We don’t care if it’s kitsch, tacky, OTT or whatever we just can’t stop our fanatic tour the force into the depth of sensation, sentiment, atmosphere, ambiance – but fuck quality, never quality – this is about amount, immeasurable amount. Long live New York Dolls, all over the place. Embarrassing and overwhelming. Nothing well balanced, tempered, sympathetic, dramaturgically correct – “continuous transformation” who the hell invented that. Oh no, don’t misunderstand me – - continuous transformation is like secretly believing in God but cursing him on a daily basis. Continuous transformation is like being afraid of the dramaturge abandoning ship. Nothing with those sexy attributes will ever make into any best of… except mediocre. Nothing of such will make it into contemporary. What’s contemporary dance? What you are talking about, there is none! And if there were you wouldn’t recognize it. You know, just like Andy Warhol insisted on wanting to be a machine but obsessed about being human, minimalism is precisely the same gööööö gesture, actually desperately affirming life. Stop that, no it’s not a time to convert to some belief system, there is only one solution: to become a Finnish science-fiction writer called Hannu – and how easy is that?
Dance is not about the affirmation of life, not about the pleasure of investing in the endless possibilities of a join. And btw stop talking about modernism with that double tone, like as if it was the time when everything was so great but you can’t allow yourself. Just adore it, worship it. Stop that astanga shit you are up to and go modernism. Be a sucker for modernism, but not for what it was but for what it can make us now. Don’t look back, never! Bring the back-up to speed, here and now, face the future and take off your glasses. Fuckin’ drop em, it’s getting hot in here. Round asses, wet hair. Be a romantic and change the word, be a sucker for modernism and stay dirty. It’s only Zizek that considers Deleuze pre-Felix work misunderstood and for the wrong reason. We roll around in it searching for the G-spot and we refuse duos, couple dance and submit to Artaud without a second’s consideration of Derrida. And we are totally obsessed with materiality as much as we despise architecture. That’s were incommensurability lays dormant, our job is just to mess it up. Let’s go out there into the desert and lateralize – - we live like foxes [avoid the wolves, they epitomize the flock] and move like swarms. We are men without bodies, tentacles attached directly to our heads, we live with the octopuses of the sand – digging canals, organizing new surfaces, we are problematised ontology: unthinkable without surprise. We are very very old, ancient like smoke: weird ass novum.