Category: Notes

The Modern Monster

Mário Ferreira dos Santos, about Nietzsche, in free translation:

He was the adversary of the State, the modern monster, the Moloch of our days, the devourer of men and consciences, the most brutal creation of human weakness and who will end up totally tiring it, to the point of one day abhorring all forms of oppression, and destroying them with an impetus that will make the pages of history tremble. It will not be easy to understand this for the man of today, this captive who licks his shackles, this “Haustier,” this domesticated animal who has grown accustomed to worshipping the monster of which he speaks.

The note is dated 1957. What to say? A little over half a century, and we can verify the accuracy of Mario’s brilliant observation. The collapse of the modern state is inevitable, however… the “captive who licks the shackles” continues, passive, to lick them, in a state of admirable unconsciousness in which he does not show the slightest sign of exhaustion. The situation has only worsened: the monster has grown, its dominion has expanded, and it no longer has any shame. The question, however, remains unanswered: until when? On the one hand, the reaction is inevitable; on the other, awakening seems distant. What is clear is that, as Mário predicted, the day will come when the “devourer of men and consciences” will be faced with a violent and extraordinary explosion, coming from an apparently perpetual lethargy.

Paul Valéry’s Prose

It is incredible how Paul Valéry’s prose is contagious! Especially in the essays, I find an enormous vivacity, unprecedented, in lines that expose great curiosity, erudition in various areas, lightness in the handling of language, precision in the observations and, above all, a completely new way of looking. I am surprised, for example, with some adjectives. Talking about intellectual or literary experiences, there we find the captivating délicieux, even if in adverbial form. Unless I am mistaken, this adjective has never once been evoked by these morbid fingers, neither in prose, nor in verse, nor in anything. Incredible! And, analyzing Valéry’s descriptions, the intellectual assimilation of his experiences, I suspect my perception to be flawed—or is it my experience? Whatever. Let’s work! And let’s start on this note: Valéry’s prose is deliciously exciting!

A Parallel Life

The 21st-century artist, or rather the one thirsting for high culture, needs a kind of parallel life, a detachment from the milieu so that he can walk alone. High culture repels modern daily life, the milieu is harmful, hostile, and there is nothing one can do to absorb it but lock oneself in isolation. To do otherwise is to become contaminated and lose the capacity for distinction, rotting away as did culture itself. If, on the one hand, such a contrast can show a gradual loss of the role, or perhaps the influence of high culture in society, on the other hand, on an individual level, decisions remain easy.

The Green-Yellow Artist

I am also thinking about the accessibility of art, its social function, and everything else. Inevitably I think of my country. If I were to judge by the miserable character, the nullity of the effects on the masses, and the disrespect with which national artists are treated, I would have to conclude that the country where I was born produces only mediocre artists. This, of course, if I considered common sense as a parameter: the normal thing here is to live devoid of art. If someone says, in Brazil: “I am an artist”, one can ask him in sequence: “And what is your profession?” The artist, then, will have to admit that he does some odd jobs to pay the bills, or works in a job he hates. Why? Because, as a green-yellow artist, he carries on his back the sin of being superfluous, useless, idle, and at the same time is miserably underpaid. The artist, in Brazil, has to be an artist and an Uber driver, an artist and a cosmetics salesman. Nelson Rodrigues, a remarkably successful artist, worked as a journalist until the day before he died. I counter the notion of “accessible art” supported by reality: the great art necessarily goes against the grain of the majority, because the majority sees art as useless, dislikes thought, and praises pleasure. Funny… I think again of Tolstoy. A genius, the progenitor of a magnificent work, and he said that true art must be “accessible” and universal. It was said in Russia that Tolstoy’s entire work does not have a single moment that elicits a smile or the urge to laugh. It may be the passage of time, but I pose the question: How many today understand, or at least are interested in and read Tolstoy? In Brazil, certainly, his entire work would not relieve an artist of the need to deliver pizzas on a part-time basis…