Art in a Straitjacket: The Great Escape. A Manifesto. by Francesca Bonafede
(to be read on an empty stomach)
And what about ART?
We fought metaphorically (although we are truly STARVING)
Ended up in a prison camp of the MIND
Prisoners of WAR
Against the BODY (we are AVATARS)
Captive above SANDY SOIL
Can’t ESCAPE by tunnelling.
Our WORLD has turned into an IMAGE.
A bombardment.
Billions of pictures ON-DEMAND (UNSOLICITED).
Unable to react emotionally to what’s HERE and NOW.
The MODERN SUBLIME, I want to call it:
LETHARGY, INCREDULITY, INDIFFERENCE.
We have SEEN EVERYTHING here and EVERYTHING SEES us!
And what is ART for?
And where are the ARTISTS?
A colossal ever expanding PICTURE FRAME encompassing EVERYTHING. A STREAMLINING movement of INCORPORATING the OTHER to the SAME.
We are SUPER-IMPOSED. There is NO END to us and NO BEGINNING. Our HOLY EQUITY with its utopian promises of bliss TWISTED into SAMENESS, CONFORMITY, STANDARDISATION. Equity is a mere TOKEN in exchange for our blind faith.
So, this is an UPSIDEDOWN STRAITJACKET. You have got to MOVE in it, so that the ALGORITHM learns and your weaknesses are fed. Everything is PREDICTED. The future is what’s EXPECTED. The universe of INFINITE choices turned BINARY.
CAPITAL devoured us all my friends.
It’s the UTILITARIAN DESIGN of our SOCIAL ENGINEER
(Wyndham L. [sort of] said it too).
We have been SABOTAGED.
Vanished into our TRAINING. SPECIALISED. STYLISED.
Bent into a SPASM of PRESTIGE. Propelled by contorted smiles—a WHITE middle-class WOMAN (probably blonde). LIMITED EDITION colourful ASYMMETRIC dress and OVERSIZED glasses.
I can access her ART FACTORY. I tick all the SPECIFICATIONS.
No.
I am not getting PAID.
So again, what is ART for?
And again, where are the ARTISTS?
Hostages to SYSTEMATISATION:
ABSOLUTE OBSERVER, MASTER APPROPRIATOR, VILLAIN MANIPULATOR.
VS ARTISTS.
For every DORMANT consciousness eroded by HABIT. Penniless.
STERILE.
ART and ARTISTS.
Defeated by DUTY, RECOGNITION and SUCCESS. The MASTER CODE.
A COSMOGONIC MYTH by the ABSOLUTE OBSERVER. MASTER APPROPRIATOR, VILLAIN MANIPULATOR.
When we fail to CONTEMPLATE the DIMENSIONS OF OUR BEING
When we fail to remember that we are INCARNATED BEINGS
When we fail to look for ourselves in OUR RELATIONSHIP TO NATURE
AND TO OTHER HUMANS!
When we fail to see that NOTHING IS SETTLED and that there are
NO ABSOLUTES
When we fail to see that art is not a world of secluded knowledge:
ART DOESN’T NEED TO BE ACCESSED. IT IS YOURS.
Then it is crucial to reassert that ART is naturally HUMAN EXPRESSION.
It must exist and WHIRL immune from our HISTORICAL SITUATION.
BLAST
THE DIRECTOR
THE CURATOR
THE GALLERIST
THE COLLECTOR
THE CRITIC
THE PUBLISHER
COMMISSIONS (Human Expression cannot be commissioned!)
OBEs
TURNER PRIZES
RETROSPECTIVES
BOOK DEALS
RESEARCH FUNDING
CONTRACTS
FANCY DEGREES
BLESS
the STRANGE, the PARADOXICAL, the AMBIGUOUS TEXTURE OF OUR OWN
INDIVIDUAL REALITY.
REAWAKEN it for yourselves and for whoever else may be interested.
I am BIG X in a sort of STALAG LUFT III:
I (therefore) CALL AN ESCAPE COMMITTEE.
1) Forget the SANDY SOIL. We dig 3 tunnels: TOM, DICK AND HARRY.
(private-enterprise tunnels allowed. ENCOURAGED.)
2) We evade the COMPOUNDS. Even if they are FUN (you can post, read, write things and play there, I know). Remember that there is no DUTY, no SUCCESS. We don’t need RECOGNITION.
3) We BREAK the MASTER CODE.
An OLD JACKET on a chair will be a RIDDLE if we take it just as it offers itself to us.
(MAURICE M.P. [sort of] told us that)
YOU JUST HAVE TO ASK THE RIGHT QUESTION
4) We make ART with our EYES. We ARTIFY the world INSIDE and OUTSIDE ourselves. MEANING is what we produce. They won’t spot us when we get to the other END. We brought CIVILIAN CLOTHES to wear.
5) We embrace DIFFICULTY. Digging is HARD. Disposing of the sand is a RISKY enterprise.
6) We design CODED MAPS of the tunnels for our audience. But we leave them to determine the location of the TRAIN STATION.
This is the type of MEANING we require.
It may be DARK.
It may be COLD.
That STRAITJACKET is FICTIONAL.
No one can help you escape. Escaping is an ACT OF CREATION in which no one can take your place and in which no one can collaborate.
(Marcel P. [sort of] told us that)
ESCAPING IS ART.
I am an ESCAPOLOGIST.
see you on the other side?
FIN
Francesca Bonafede
Doctoral Researcher | University of Westminster
Editor | The Journal of Wyndham Lewis Studies
