 |
| Me caught in a field of cotton by Akane Kimbara |
A friend lend me his Un Art de la rencontre by Lee Ufan. Going to the opening last Thursday night at Hamburger Bahnhof, I was so impressed and also found it strange that I didn't know about Lee Ufan before. My friend, who is an artist, did, and the book I borrowed, shows it. The pages have been turned more than once and the text has been studded. "It's in French", he said upon giving it to me. "Pas de problème!" I responded, muttering putain between my teeth.
Well, I don't know if it is the French language or if Lee Ufan's thoughts are way out there, but for now, I have only been able to get tidbits while leafing through it. Doing so, I did come upon a thought that corresponded to my experience of seeing the exhibition. (I went late to the opening so it wasn't that busy anymore. But the best possible situation, I would say, is to be alone.)
In this excerpt, Ufan is talking about an empty space with just a flower in it (I think John Cage gives a similar example in his Suzuki stories but then with an old shoe, which works too.): "Quand on se laisse absorber par cet espace, on sent le regard silencieux de quelque chose. A son propre insu, on devient poète." (When we let ourselves be absorbed by this space, we feel the silent gaze of something. Unwittingly, one becomes a poet.)
I think that what he says here, is not that words come to you but that they escape you. I got an inkling of that while walking through his series of paintings From Point (1973) to From Line (1978), and From Winds (1982-86) to With Winds (1987-91). Or to put it simply, when a brushstroke puts one in touch with something as big as infinity, one finds and one is at peace.