Aside

Sunday morning

SUNDAY MORNING

It’s Sunday morning, a hazy day in my mind and around. Hazy enough to project on a white, modest egret on the seashore questions we keep secret because we don’t know the answers. The bird’s perfect modulation of lines is softened by feathers. A living porcelain jumps on the skinniest legs. In front of the white egret equally elegant in all her movements I felt I was seeing music.

No interpretation, no accurate description can have the same impact as the REAL THING. George Steiner: “In humane letters, ‘theory’ is nothing but intuition grown impatient. … But art and poetry will always give to universals ‘a local habitation and a name.’” (Errata)

Language is scared by life as logic is terrified by death. If the brain is not eternal and the human mind is not god, and computers are mainly dynamic containers with no paper, dust or silverfish, we might stop mistaking our head for a hat full of data.

It’s scary to see the nineteenth century phantoms of geometrical and mechanical control – early imperialism and capitalism outcomes – as inhabitants of our time disguised in operative systems, or apparently rational evaluation systems, every time human intelligence is treated like an impersonal engine. RA

This is the way Cuban artist Alexis Lago shows his own way out, drawing the very thin thread of our awareness:

 

ALEXIS LAGO, Asimetria del saber (Asymmetrical Knowledge), 2013, watercolor on paper, 15" x 11" Courtesy Couturier Gallery, Los Angeles

ALEXIS LAGO, Asimetria del saber (Asymmetrical Knowledge), 2013, watercolor on paper, 15″ x 11″
Courtesy Couturier Gallery, Los Angeles

ALEXIS LAGO, Sunday Morning, 2012, watercolor on paper, 15" x 10" Courtesy Couturier Gallery, Los Angeles

ALEXIS LAGO, Sunday Morning, 2012, watercolor on paper, 15″ x 10″
Courtesy Couturier Gallery, Los Angeles

 

“To believe that mankind can find a goal outside itself, and one not projected by itself, would be sheer folly and chasing after one’s shadow. Man’s [and Women’s] progress is only within itself, and hasn’t the victorious significance you think.” André Gide, Reflections