NEWS

It's time to listen.
It's time to silence yourself.
It's time to be mobile and light,
to lighten up to get on the road.
It's time to live with the rubble and the horror,
to find meaning.
In a while even the mediocre will say so.
But I speak of more impervious roads,
of riskier commitments,
of acts meditated in solitude.
The only possible morality
is what you can find,
day by day,
in your open-secluded place.
What's the point if only you get saved.
You have to be able to contemplate
but also to be on the run.
You have to be careful,
mobile, daring and inspired.
A nomadism,
a condition,
an adventure,
a process of liberation,
a struggle,
a pain,
to communicate in the rubble.
We must use all available means,
to find the deep moral of our art.
Visible places, and invisible places,
real places and imaginary places
they will populate our path.
But goods are goods
and their law will be always ready
to cancel the work
of those who have found roots and looked far.
The past and the future they do not exist
in the eternal present of consumption.
This is one of the horrors,
with which we have lived for some time
and to which we have not yet given
an adequate answer.
We must free ourselves from oppression
and reconcile with the mystery.
There are two ways to go,
there are two forces to make coexist.
Politics alone is blind.
The mystery, which is silent,
by itself it becomes deaf.
A clandestine art to stay open,
to travel but  to leave traces,
build places, join restless travellers.
And if, one day, anyone thinks of  
making the map of this itinerary;
retracing the places,
examining the traces,
I hope it will be alone
to find a new beginning.
It's time that art finds other forms to communicate
in a universe where everything is communication.
It's time to get out of abstract time of the market,
to rebuild the human time of necessary expression.
We have to invent.
A stable can become a temple and beautifully remain a stable.
Nor a God, nor an idea, they can save us,
only a vital relationship can.
We need another look to make sense of what
barbarously dies every day homologating.
And as a master says:
"remember everything and forget everything".
(Antonio Neiwiller, The other gaze: for a clandestine theatre. Dedicated to T. Kantor; 1993)