The car seemed to stand still, which just wasn't possible at all since I was the one driving it. Actually, it was the world moving at a pace I controlled with my foot on the throttle? Taken by the sudden realization, mere mortals could barely muster the shape to wield that kind of power, I stepped on clutch and brakes, cut the engine, jumped out the car and took a deep breath. Out here, in the sunlight of a hot summer afternoon, the smell of grass from the clearing we've stopped in mingled with the resin and wood of the trees surrounding this patch of the forrest path. The birds were definitely mocking us from the trees nearby. "What the hell is going on?" For a moment I thought my car was talking, while simultaneously being aware of my old friend on the passenger-seat, which made me giggle a little. This lawyer for a day was no real lawyer at all! Overwhelmed by the amount of information pouring in, I took another deep breath. My chest felt weirdly compressed by some invisible force field I had to shake off if I planned to ever speak again. Flooded by panic bordering anxiety I was facing a total loss of control. This was me now? How long was it going to last, people pay good money for THIS?! But I collected myself enough to press out a few words, making every single one of them count as if they had been my last: "I took seven!"
"In direction and application art is always subordinate to the time and space it occupies, and artists are creatures of their epochs. The highest form of art will be one, which represents the thousandfold problems of this time in its content of consciousness. It will exhibit the decision to be thrown by the explosions of the passed weeks, always recollecting its limbs after receiving last day's crushing blows, again and again. The best and most unheard of artists will be those, who rip the chunks of their living body out of the chaos of fleshly cataracts constantly, dogged in the intellect and psychology of their time, bleeding from both hand and heart."
- The Dadaist Manifesto
Waves... weird name for a village with a few small ones on a little lake, I thought to myself. For a moment I just stood there, taking in the beautiful landscape. From this point of the forest path you could see the water of a flooded gravel pit reflect sunlight back into the tree leaves in front of us, hypnotizing to watch. The clapping of a closing door disrupted my daydreaming, it was probably time to leave. My driver took his sweet time to adjust everything to his liking, and all I can recall from this part of the trip was his complaining about the little aftermarket skull on the shiftstick. Back in the city he opted for the scenic route with industrial charme, so I had to ask for a short rest at the park. All this noise and traffic started to seriously get on my nerves.
"The hate for the press, the hate of all advertisement, the hate of all sensations speaks to people, who think higher of their couch than of the noise on the streets, and who make it their merit to get scammed by mail. Cue every and all sentimental resistance against the times, which are not exactly better or worse, not more reactionary and/or more revolutionary than all other times! This very dull opposition, eyeing prayers or spells and incense, if it doesn't prefer to fold paper planes with attic jambus written all over them, are expressions of a youth which never understood how to be young in the first place. This expression has nothing in common with the activity of the working class. Our manifest is a call to arms under the banner of "DADA!", for propaganda of art that is supposed to deliver on the realization of socialist ideals."
- The Dadaist Manifesto
A few hours into both trips I was peaking out already, that's when we arrived at the park. The place was rather crowded, and of course my friend insisted to stop by the caged animals in the little Zoo you can also find inside the park. It's a really big park, and by the time we reached the Zoo I was more interested in the people you can watch watching animals. He spotted me openly staring at an older couple in a pair of matching beige suits, which is why he decided to find a nice place for a smoke break. They must have been together for ages, you could tell by the way she instructed him which animal to feed with the bread she handed out to him. Are we just caged animals in a bigger Zoo? The sun started to set as we found a spot on the green, under two oaks. I must have raised that question because my friend was awfully quiet, so I passed the joint silently and listened to the birds chirping. What a peaceful moment, I thought to myself. And the answer took me by surprise: "you see it", said the mockingbird. Said the what? My eyes went up, scanning for something in the tree. Oh, I see how it works... you can talk with birds whilst at peace? "You see it!" Wings flapping, I caught a glimpse of the bird taking off... laughing?!
"Dada is the international expression of this time, the big villain of art movements, the artistic reflex in all protests, peace congresses, bar fights, brunches and cigarette-breaks. It is not just some artsy club founded in Berlin, nor a pretence for ambitioned writers, it is a habit of mind which can reveal itself during every conversation. Depending on the circumstances, you might only be a Dadaist by chance, minding your business by holding on to a bullshit job. Being a Dadaist means to have yourself being thrown around by the tides of life, to actively refuse any collection of sediment. To be locked down on a chair for a moment means to have your life threatened (Mr. Wang pulled a revolver out of her pocket already). The very fabric tears itself apart under a Dadaist's hand, saying "yes" to a life that screams "no", aspiring to rise higher by means of negation. Say-yes-say-no: the enormous spectacle of being exhilarates the nerves of Dadaists - half Bigfoot, half Francis - so they laugh and laugh... to challenge cherished opinions, bloodless abstractions and "world improving" theories. Dadaist habits of the mind in thought and practice, be the collage you want to see! To oppose this manifest means to be Dadaist, welcome to the club!"
- The Dadaist Manifesto
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