The second snowstorm is announced for tomorrow. All the snow in the streets puts a layer onto the world that is comforting. As if you are left in peace, no flowers, no spring, the world does’t ask you to admire it, you’re just well protected in the white overcoat of the world’s surface. Everything is slowing down and I start understanding why Alice Munro’s short stories are so filled with flawless observation. There’s nothing to distract you, thoughts enter your mind in the clearest of all possible ways. I’m coming back to how much I loved being a writer, what a gift I felt in my desire to express what I experienced as world. When you are at home struggling over interviews and expectations you start forgetting what it was you so desperately wanted at first. At least that’s what happens to me. The more I talk about being a writer the less I feel like a writer. Thomas Berhard’s rufusal of being a writer is very close to me. I’m not a writer, he says, I’m someone who writes. The difference might be comparable to what happenps when lovers become husbands and wives. There’s something in the clarity of this etquette that on the one hand confirms the feeling one first hand and on the other hand is able to destroy it. So the power of word is ambiguous: first you start looking for the right word, the perfect word, the adeqaute sentence to express it as good as it gets and then, in an instant, after you grasped it, it’s lost. Might be the reason why many writers newer use the so-called big words, why many writers start shaking when it comes to conversation with people who know so well. Knowing well is the end of evry desire to get to know something by expressing it. Expressing something is certainly fueled by mistery and the adventure of getting to know the unknown. It’s the inherent contradiction in being an artist that one wants to know and not know at the same time. In a way this came clear to me being surrounded by scientistst whose desire and passion is knowing. While scientists need facts about reality to talk about reality artists need the gap between emotions and reality to create -another- reality. So far for today, out of my office in the Munk Centre that provides more peace than I ever imagined when I took off for Canada.


2 Antworten auf „Snowstorm

  1. „you start forgetting what it was you so desperately wanted at first“
    – a thought that sounds familiar…what is it that lets one forget about the real thing time and again? certainly not a lack of desire – to express the world, in words, in pictures, in music – otherwise the wish to do so probably wouldn’t have occurred in the first place. more like a fear of how bold a plan for your life your own heart can come up with. sometimes it only takes a little push from the outside, a little shove by someone who cares, or a line from an artist, a film maker you look up to, to get you back on track. the real track, that is.
    thanks for sharing the thought.


    Irgendwann wird der Schnee
    sich auflösen in der Schmelze
    und zum Gießbach werden,
    der die dunklen Flüsse aufhellt
    auf ihrem bewachten Weg
    zum Meer. Irgendwann
    werden die Wolken hochgehen
    und die Bühne freigeben
    für die bittenden Augen.
    Irgendwann werden wir wieder
    im Freien sitzen
    an den frisch gebeizten Tischen
    und die Bücher lesen,
    die im Winterschlaf lagen.
    Also komm bitte bald,
    denn so wie es aussieht,
    wird es irgendwann wieder
    von Michael Krüger

    lg asita

Kommentar verfassen

Bitte logge dich mit einer dieser Methoden ein, um deinen Kommentar zu veröffentlichen:

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Abmelden /  Ändern )

Google+ Foto

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Google+-Konto. Abmelden /  Ändern )


Du kommentierst mit Deinem Twitter-Konto. Abmelden /  Ändern )


Du kommentierst mit Deinem Facebook-Konto. Abmelden /  Ändern )


Verbinde mit %s