False Hope
It was the beginning of the project. The late Bert Hermans introduced me around
in Turkey. Art funding from the major banks is the main motor behind artist development
in Turkey, and I was invited to look around in the archives of the Garanti
Platform. With a little help from my friends, I selected a few artists and
contacted them to explain my mission. And this guy says, “Well… I will not
accept any invitation if I cannot look you in the eyes. I live 130 kilometers away.
You are welcome.” So, I went there the next day. I met him in his house, and he
introduced me at the university. We sat down and the television was showing news
about bomb explosions that had occurred in Istanbul – very near to where my
truck had been parked that night. I mean: very near. He was shocked, as
well – not about my truck and that coincidence, but about the fact that people
use such horrific means to achieve their self-interests. “The authorities will
respond with more Big Brother methods. Everybody is going to fight his own war,”
he said.
Meanwhile, I had to ask him to make a little painting about hope. “But
listen, my friend,” he replied, “I do not know if you understand the situation,
but if this continues, the situation is hopeless. Everybody in this country
knows you have one hand for politics and another for religion. You cannot mix
them. And now there is a minority, a very small number of people, who do not
respect this and start throwing religious bombs. Since humankind is very
capable of making mistake after mistake, and so many splinter groups want to
respond, it is a very dangerous situation.” He became a kind of very relaxed sort
of desperate, realizing he is big enough to understand, but too small to do
something about it. “What to paint?” he asked me. But after he accepted the
little white board measuring 25x35 cm and pointed out the dangerous
geopolitical situation to me, that was really not my problem anymore. So, he
wished me good luck and safe journey, and he asked me to wish him luck, because
the painting about hope needed to be ready in six weeks and the situation was
more or less hopeless. What will happen in this country?
I came back several weeks later. His friends and colleagues at the faculty had
also made some great paintings, and when we finally had some time, he sat
there, with a little modest smile on his face. He shows me a painting of a man
with a telescope and a bunch of other people looking at this man. He starts
talking: “The painting is called Mars. You see this man? He’s the center of the
painting. He is also the center of my attention because he is looking for
something. I like people who are looking for something. But he is looking for
something pretty far away. Not that Mars is not interesting, but still… He does
not seem to be interested in the society that surrounds him. All the others are
looking for nothing. They are just waiting, waiting to see what happens. Maybe
the man with the telescope finds something, and all will be happy because their
friend found something. But maybe the man with the telescope must admit after a
few days there is nothing out there, and quite a few of the people will laugh, ‘We
told you there was nothing out there.’” And this painter keeps on talking this
way and suddenly he says, “Hey, did you notice? I have a great painting. My
story is not too bad, and I did not give you any little piece of false hope.”
Years later, I was present at a terrorist attack in Apeldoorn, when a
hideous, freaked out person drove his car through the crowd to attack the Queen
on her special holiday, live on TV, killing and wounding dozens. I was there
telling stories about paintings, and obviously the party was over. But I could
not leave because the flea market was still going and our truck was parked
behind everything. And all those people, especially the couples, who did not
want to go home and watch TV wandered around in a city with this strange
atmosphere. They desperately needed to reflect, socially. Many visited the
exhibition, and I told them this story, just in order to give people some space
for incomprehensible things.
It was one of the most beautiful days I had, but I could not tell anybody. Until now.
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