For a clandestine theatre

To T. Kantor

by Antonio Neiwiller, May 1993

It’s time to start listening,

to keep silence within.

To be light, mobile,

to free ourselves and set off on a journey.

It’s time to learn to live with the

ruins and the horror,

in order to find a reason.

 It won’t be long before the mediocre will also say it.

But I am talking of more arduous ways,

of more perilous commitments,

of actions pondered in solitude.

The only possible moral

is the one you draw

day by day

in your open-cloistered place.

What is the point,

if you alone are saved?

We must be able to contemplate,

but also to travel.

We must be attentive,


free from prejudice, inspired.

A nomadism,

a condition,

an adventure,

a process of liberation,

a fatigue,

a grief,

to communicate amidst the ruins.

 We must use all the available means

to find a profound moral

in one’s own art.

Visible places

and invisible places,

actual places

and imaginary places

will inhabit our journey.

But commodities are commodities,

and their law will always be ready to erase

the work

of whomsoever has found roots

and looks in the distance.

The past and the future

do not exist in the eternal present

of consumption.

This is one of the horrors

with which we have been living for some time,

and to which we have not yet given an appropriate answer.

We must free ourselves from oppression

and reconcile with the mystery.

There are two ways to descend,

two forces we need to make coexist.

Politics alone is blind.

Mystery, which is mute, alone becomes deaf.

A clandestine art

to stay open,

to travel while leaving traces,

building places,

joining disquiet travelers.

And if one day it will come to the mind of somebody

to draw a map of this itinerary,

to revisit the places,

to examine the traces,

I wish it will only be to find a new beginning.

It’s time for art to find other forms to communicate in a universe where everything is communication.

It’s time for it to leave the abstract time of the market,

to rebuild a human time of necessary expression.”

We must invent.

A stable can become a temple while magnificently remaining a stable.

Neither God nor an idea

can save us, but only a vital relationship.

We need another way of looking

to make sense to what dies savagely every day

through homogenisation.

And as the master says:

“Remember all, forget all”


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