A month ago I was in the Van Gogh Museum of Art, without renting a narrator, it was all due to a pair of untalented eyes. Most of the bustling tourists in the pavilion are like me: the middle-aged man pushed his glasses to the painting, and a few seconds later, when he looked back, he showed a shy smile around him, the young woman held the hand of her male companion, Crows" or the artist's self-portrait with a sigh. Everyone was focused and disappointed, so I remembered a passage I saw some time ago, to the effect that a girl who likes art closed her book and imagined that she was born in Paris in the 19th century. Love him, please don't be sad, don't hurt yourself, but at the same time she knows that even if she is really in Van Gogh's Paris, she will never fall in love with him, never go to him, because no matter how many opportunities are given to people, history The original path will still be repeated, and the Van Gogh colors will still be scoffed at as insanely clumsy. This is probably the case for the misunderstanding between commoners and talented artists. Some people are born different. They stand on the clouds, and people in the lower places may look up to them. Maybe there are a few specific moments in their lives to meet them, but most of the time they are missed in their lives. They are like stars. All living beings naturally know that there are these characters in high places, but most people will not patiently observe these "abnormalities" that are too far and unfamiliar. Everyone condone them wantonly in places they can't see, but only there When the stars exploded or fell, everyone raised their heads together and sighed that this is a miracle that has passed for a long, long time. L`artiste est mort, vive l`artiste! The artist is dead, long live the artist!
So what about the artist's attitude towards the common man? "Frank" gives a very romantic and classic answer. It was an underground band that had just hired a new keyboard player, and the frontman and core character Frank was a talented musician (of course not everyone thought his music was art, although I kind of liked it) and a weirdo because He never took off the huge headgear. In order not to take it off, he even issued a medical certificate and showed it to security inspections everywhere at any time. He's always loudly proclaiming to the world: I'm a weirdo, just look at this fake face when you talk to me, and just label me weird. ——As if he just wanted to stay in his cloud and didn't want to get close to the flesh and blood world. He was standing with a weird group of people, the only Don who could talk to the ordinary young Jon was also a lunatic sleeping with a plastic model, so the young and innocent, untalented and unaware Jon imagined that under the hood was a With a broken face and a broken heart, everything about this person is a mystery to him, and there may be a lunatic under the mask. Ordinary Jon, who has ordinary ambitions, probably doesn't know whether he is attracted by the amazingness of the incomplete music in that co-show, or by the weirdness of this group of people. He lived with them for a year, photographed their lives and put them online, just like a photographer who went into the jungle to observe the life of beasts. But it wasn't until they parted ways and the band became a star that exploded hundreds of millions of years ago that he saw himself in the words of a passerby: "You cows, there is a guy with a big headgear and a crazy girl in your band, buddy. , you are completely on fire!" It turns out that ordinary people don't care about art, but maverick itself, they like to see a few solitary monsters standing on a high stage for them to appreciate and make trouble, and see countless themselves Standing opposite these monsters, it is like looking in a mirror to see the complete opposite of oneself, so as to temporarily realize oneself - the public is blind, a collective that does not recognize themselves. Jon, trying to get close to Frank, stood between the two sides, thinking he could play the role of a mediator. He was attracted by the free and easy of the band, but mistaken the free and easy as crazy, and tried to use the crazy as a gimmick to attract the public, but Frank was never a lunatic.
Yeah, that's the popular misconception: artists are lunatics. In fact, we just think that people who are different from us are lunatics. Artists are always the most rational people. They can touch the spark of the gods when they are possessed by the muse and in the most insane state. After all, they can also cool down. Calmly or even coldly, they can copy the spark with the worldly materials. In order to fix the spark, they can Abandoning love, abandoning life in the work (an extreme example is Suskind's "Perfume"), can only create after being eager and calm, perhaps creating a ghost stone hall, but touching something that can only survive through death The beauty of the world has established a new world, and it is because of this that the artist can be pulled up to the height of the creator god. They observe the world calmly and observe themselves at the same time, they know the distance between themselves and the world, it may be a distance that can never be erased, because they clearly see that such a warm and noisy world will never accept this kind of Cold, lifeless aliens, so some people choose to escape, they only sing for themselves and their own kind, the kind of artists who are far away from the audience, like Baraque and Nana in the movie, seemingly inaccessible and abnormal, in reality The coolest bystanders, and Clara, in a white dress, singing "I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper"—artists whose voices are for death, and all their voices follow. Death comes with darkness, or their life itself is a long death. Not despair, but hopelessness in the first place.
But Frank is different, he does not create for death, he is not a world-weary lunatic, if you communicate with him, you will find that there is a smart and humorous person under the mask, and he is as naive and timid as a child, I think he puts on the hood because of timidity The one who took off the hood was just an ordinary face like everyone else, standing among the crowd but didn't dare to raise his head and stretched out his hand to everyone, so lonely and eye-catching as if screaming; but when he put on the hood, he became A member other than sentient beings, because they never belong to them, and there is no need to be afraid of being rejected by them, they can sing inexplicable songs to them at will, and they can drag a nervous and unfamiliar wife to play in circles all over the mountains and fields. An extreme means of getting close to everything he fears and loves. He is in love with those who he has never been able to approach, constantly looking for ways to connect himself with the world, in love with smelly beer and bloated people, all that is small and low, and he is willing to give up himself in order to get people's love. This kind of art museum is ancient and romantic, the pursuit is to sing for human beings, to create life rather than death, to create life from life, just like Van Gogh's sunflower, the gorgeous bloom created by burning his own life, let the viewers from that painting Absorb new life from it, learn to love life. But Frank, you forgot, when you talk to people in a hood, no one notices your life, all people see is your mask. Art can't fill the innate distance, you can stand in front of them a thousand times and say kiss me to them, but they will treat you as a grandstanding clown a thousand times, maybe once in a thousand times, in the crowd A young man with curly brown hair and soft eyes will walk by your side and sing with you, but in the end you will find that it is your mystery that attracts him.
So Frank's headgear shattered, and he ended up standing at the feet of a group of "Grim Artists" and crying while singing "I love you all" with them, two headgear marks on his forehead, looking like a clown with makeup removed , or the king who fell from his horse into the dust, or the Son of God who had just put on a crown of thorns and had not yet been crucified.
There is a passage in "Don Carlos" in which the king wept because he was deceived by the marquis he trusted. The ministers in the palace were very surprised and embarrassed, because such a stubborn and serious monarch, standing on the peak of mankind, seemed to not eat the fireworks of the world, and even shed tears, so that the noble and sacred mask was cracked, and never again. Can't stick back.
Whether it is a king or an artist, even if the people on the clouds shed tears, the tears will not fall on the faces of the people on the ground.
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