I would like to go back to something I wrote about at Easter - the social welfare state. Always aware that I am in a diary here and that my thoughts on a certain topic are kept in slight extent. There are books on this, if not standard works, that I haven't read. So these are just some thoughts I have about it. When I was studying at the University of Basel after my one-year stay at the Cité des Arts in Paris, I quarreled with myself while considering to study sociology. I went to the faculty and spoke to some professors, I found out about their syllabus. Finally, I decided on anthropology. A little later a Center for African Studies was set up, which I frequently went to and attended their lectures. Especially when I thought about taking up my studies again a few years later, I wanted to focus there. I considered the CAS, a further education course, but it came out to be too expensive for me. However, I didn't finish my studies and don't see myself as an anthropologist. I call and see myself as an artist, and therefore I am one. One of the first things I learned in art school was to embrace the idea of being an artist.
The welfare state is certainly a sensible invention that, apart from the social security I mentioned, should also offer equal opportunities. What I observe here in The Gambia, and which is certainly the advantage of such a small state, is that people help each other when it is obviously necessary. No one lets anyone starve or sleep without a roof over their heads. Which is also the case in Europe. Of course there are always exceptions, but those who refuse to help are not respected.
Wednesday, 20
Root and Branch
(...)
If you work in the cultural field, it has been impossible to avoid the issue of how to respond to each new expression of the "permacrisis." There has been much discussion of the way that institutions have reacted, running the gamut from cynical cosmetic gestures to long-term investment in structural reform. But recent conversations with artists have returned to the pressures to reflect the situation in their own work. These pressures are both self-imposed—which cultural worker hasn't wondered lately whether they could be doing more to make a direct impact?—and external. Alongside the demands of social media to be seen to take a public position, however vacuous or ill-considered, are curators, galleries, and institutions who are eager to appear "engaged." The effect is to transform artists into brand ambassadors who are tasked with delivering a message amenable to an organization's stakeholders. The message should be up-to-date, easily legible and, in a media environment which does not reward nuance, unambiguous.
There is a tendency in our culture to assume that the horror of any event must correlate with its novelty: to acknowledge that crises have precedents is not to diminish them, but to draw attention to the fact that change is possible. The assumption that everything is getting incrementally worse is only the flip side of the same teleology that assumes progress is inevitable. The most meaningful responses to these diverse upheavals are not necessarily the first to emerge or the easiest to interpret.
(...)
Tuesday, 19
Bad conscience
When I think back on my life, I realize that I carried a bad conscience with me most of the time. I was never convinced that I was doing the right thing, but almost always had the feeling that what I was doing was actually not good. (I'll just use the word GOOD without going into the meaning per se in terms of evaluation what actually good and bad or evil is.) What's odd is that now when I think about my past and how I acted, I don't see anything I did badly. Maybe I was a little stupid or even ridiculous at times, but I didn't do anything wrong, I was just trying to live a life that's okay. And not only from my point of view, but I tried to please everyone, which was sometimes impossible. The guilty conscience is probably also because there was always someone around me who didn't agree with me. For example, there was a big discrepancy between my friends and colleagues and my family, especially my parents. The two worlds were difficult to reconcile. (To quote Simon Njami: As an artist you have to free yourself from the family). So there was no need to have a bad conscience, because I didn't do anything wrong as such. The only thing the feeling of guilt did was that I couldn't make clear and illuminated decisions. The guilty conscience, which had a general and not really defined character, lay over me like a cloud and veiled my perception. The problem was often that when something didn't go as planned, instead of stopping and trying to understand what was happening, I would immediately blame and humiliate myself, which led to depression. A refusal of performance set in. Until I found myself again. The key is to understand that you can never please everyone. There will always be critics - so don't be intimidated. You have to weigh things up and set priorities.
Some time ago I took an anxiety disorder test and the result was alarming. I can't remember the exact wording, but it said I needed to work on my fears. The question is, can I treat myself? I hope yes. However, whenever I feel anxious, the first thing I do is try to calm myself by breathing and meditating. I also downloaded an app (Anxiety test & relief) in which the topics are as follows:
- Identify and challenge cognitive distortions that lead to negative thoughts.
- Identify and question your negative, generalized judgments about yourself.
- Use Socratic questions and change your irrational thoughts.
- Confront and break your "worst case scenario" projections and break them.
Sunday, 17
My Easter Sermon
What I've said to many of my friends and acquaintances: I know what I'm spending my money on. When I started at the reception desk in the Skulpturhalle Basel in the late 1990s, I had the opportunity to develop my own Excel file, which has since given me a very good overview of my expenses. I'm almost a little proud of that. But also dependent, without this exact reckoning I would have the feeling of losing the ground under my feet. That means I know what my life costs. I'm definitely not poor, but I'm not rich either. I would place myself more in the lower middle class, if at all. In any case, I always have to be very good at arithmetic in order to lead a life according to my ideas. My concern is always the art. So I'm trying to manage my living expenses in a way that allows me to stay creative and inspired. Although I'm very interested in fashion, I spend less than 5% of my total budget on clothes and accessories. The car is expensive - petrol prices have skyrocketed - and covers more than 10% of living expenses. Right now I'm not ready to give it up, which I'm sure some would recommend. I have to leave the compound every now and then so I don't get cabin fever. And since I don't live in the city, having my own vehicle gives me the greatest flexibility. I charge almost the same amount for my health and personal care products as I don't have any expat health insurance, which would be more expensive though. I spend almost half of my mandated budget on groceries, but I have to admit that I buy chocolate or cheese or even wine, which add significantly to the cost. Not to forget the expensive wholemeal bread, which is supposed to be healthier, but which is ten times more expensive than local bread. Almost a sin in my partner's eyes to spend so much money on something a family of ten could eat off. However, I won't go into detail about every of my expenses. It's about knowing how much and what I need my money for.
I obviously need this safety awareness that I learned in the German-speaking part of Europe. There, they are very concerned about safety, which I don't not necessarily regard as positive. It's kind of life denying as well. The welfare states don't let anyone starve, but this protection by the state makes the individual deal less socially with their fellow human beings. The responsibility is shifted to the state. It spreads a certain emotional coldness. One becomes calculating, everyone thinks especially of themselves and feathers their own nest. You learn that you're the fool when you don't. I learned this a long time ago after transcending my social era with dreams of becoming a social worker. Nobody helps nobody to try Martin Kippenberger again. But that were the 1980s and 90s. I think young people are different these days, which indeed is difficult for me to verify as I live in Africa. Here many people have to fight for survival and some don't even make it. However, compassion for the other's plight is definitely there.
Monday, 11
Satellite Update The House of Culture Tintinto
my own entry at the same day 2015
Since some weeks every here and then we have been receiving a notification sent by our tv provider: analog television will be disabled on the 21st of April. Indeed, we still have a Sony Trinitron telly, which was the most modern you could get end of ninetees, in our bedroom. Um, well, they decide at what time my product bought for a lot money is no more useful even when it is not broken. Moreover, on their large postcards they propose we should contact them at their shop and buy a new product that is digital apt. Sounds almost like emotional blackmail. 'We think you probably will be badly sad when your telly stops working at that very Stichtag (deadline). Why don't come and visit us as soon as possible, so we can make you happy before it's too late.' The problem is, they first make me unhappy in order to be sure that I'll need them to become happy again. And, as though as nothing had happened, at the end of the day my expenses imperceptibly will bulge their pockets. No, no, no, their bargain will not be mine, but a peaceful bedroom without tv.
Monday, 4The noise of the trucks bothers me again this morning. After a quiet weekend, where I realized how quiet it can be here, the constant boom, the subliminal deep waves flow into me without being able to protect myself against it. It's like stepping on the gas even more now that Ramadan has begun. In fact, for the past week I've only been subconsciously aware of the noise, and it wasn't until the weekend that I realized how it can be when the noise isn't pounding on me non-stop.
In addition, yesterday we bought a tea at turntable, which is enjoyed here on Ramadan. Very big leaves. We drank it after breaking fast. The taste a little bitter, not bad I thought, and drank it. But when I lay in bed, I immediately noticed that my nerves were somehow irritated. So I couldn't sleep for hours. Probably also a reason why the truck traffic in front of the front door gets on my nerves today. I couldn't access the internet either because they had to troubleshoot a problem in our area with gamtel. It's such a day when everything sticks to you, what you actually want to get rid of. I see, the week can't start any better.
As already mentioned, my parents and grandparents selected very few works by female artists, which was also due to the fact that the proportion of works by female artists offered in Griffelkunst was very small at the time. In the years 1925-1950, of the 127 artists shown, only 8 were women, far less than 10%. The Griffelkunst-Vereinigung 50 Years (1925-75) catalog lists 434 artists with biographies, 49 of whom are female, just over 10%.
Art Space Work of the Month
Gertrude Lerbs-Bernecker (1902-1968) - Easter Water, 1947, copperplate, 23.5x17.8cm