Given the extent to which competitive capitalist dogmas have
permeated into the human nature, the humanity has very well mastered the craft
of concealing and deceiving. Art has always mirrored the human nature. And so,
today I no longer trust art. Just like I no longer trust people. Consider blues
of the early 20th century. It sprang from the irrepressible need to reveal
all the misery of slavery. Consider Russian realist novels. The best of those
recount family tragedies. Consider the post-war literature. In it the human
cruelty and the tragedy of self-inflicted pain stand naked before the
reproaching gaze of the millions. What I am saying is this: back then, there
existed the idea of redemption through art, accompanied by the illusion of the
possible bettering of the “grand race”, if only artists would write down all
which many feared to utter out loud. As it turned out, the grand race has let us
down and the artists of today know that there is no redemption or improvement
though art. As least we have understood the self-delusion which we used to take
hold of so firmly in the past. And we have realized that the art of today needs
not offer consolation or explanation. As the good nature of art has backfired
on itself, art has grown sick of the idea of revealing and has stuck to its
opposite, the idea of concealing. Nowadays, I read Nabokov with great pleasure,
taking absolutely no offense when I get taken on or misled by what I am
reading. Because the story IS there
to mislead you or to trick you. The story IS
there to conceal its true nature and prove a winner at the end of the race.
Much like the people of today, if you ask me.
"all art is deception and so is nature"
-Vladimir Nabokov-
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