My Zeitgeist Hurts
with Sebastian Makonnen Kjølaas
Let’s say that in the morning a great work of art is made. At breakfast it’s overlooked. At lunch, its celebrated. It’s capitalised for dinner, commercialised for dessert. When it ́s time for a nightcap – it’s already kitsch.
Our zeitgeist rides us like a scary little imp, and we whimper – what madness is this? This is to ponder the puzzle of the pendulum, as it swings from one side only to plunge ahead to the other.
While the artist grows older, the world spins faster. And the art becomes stressed – it becomes thinner and thinner. Like an antique made by IKEA. A cheese pasteurised in a blink of an eye. A fetus pretending to be an old man.
“What’s the point?” artists mumble while writing their press release. Going through all the pains of productivity, the confusion of creating, the torment of thinking, only to be confronted by the short lived attention span of the spectator, and the destructive wallet of the collector.
We can laugh, cry, or scream about it. We can stare apathetically into the pixelated horizon. Whatever we may choose, all our feelings are best – when attached as a pdf.
Change is possible – all too possible. Over and over and over again.
The suffering artist is a cliché. The professional artist – a corpse.
When you enter this exhibition, it’s fresh. When you leave – it’s already kitsch.