In Kabbalah, it is understood that this world is like a corridor to the next. We are to understand it as a sort of experimental, accidental space. Perhaps an imperfect place.
I've always pictured this world to be an accident and imperfect, often without thinking Kabbalistically, but that this world is an imperfect accident of genius! A world in which there is so much knowledge to delve into, to gain, and numerous areas of research to discover, unearth and explore. Infinite places to go, activities to do, leisures to occupy oneself with, hobbies to in which one becomes immersed. But at the same time, the question is always there saying to me inside "what is the purpose?" Where is the ultimate definitive point? What is the goal and why? the target boy, what's the target..? ha! Just like the song, "there's no beginning and there'll be no end..."
In some respects all life becomes repetitive. An endless cycle with endless amounts of heirs and inheritance. To which point are we to progress? And why should the next generation pick up the pieces of a world which, at times, could be seen as futile for such reasons. Endless procreation. A new generation having to deal with the problems in the world. Metaphorically speaking life is like the wagon replaced by the car, the purpose is to get to places quicker, but why do we need to get to places?
I ask myself what is perfection, what is the cure? This leads me to consider utopia. I would say that equilibrium is certainly a state of perfection. One direction then leads me to consider socialist utopia, which I explored in my installation Oil-Of-Course. And though it makes perfect sense where everyone is equal, there are still plain and simple black and white differences in ethnicity, identity and culture which means we will never all be the same, and will constantly be identified as different by some stupid person. I rule that philosophy out. But it is that type of perfection that is absolutely impossible to achieve in this world. A world of dualities where there is always going to be oppositions, "chalk and cheese" as I love to call it!
Perhaps that is why in a democracy it is okay when a politician is elected leader and proceeds to make constant mistakes. We all shout angrily, but we all know prior to election even, that making mistakes is only human, and that the responsibility of making big decisions is not something we desire to take on board. Steven Poliakoff is great at making films about rich and wealthy people, those with money give it to others to make decisions for them. They hate responsibility and do not want to be left with ethical and moral decisions. (The corruption of NGOs) do I dare slip that in. Better have others making decisions for so long as it doesn't affect yours truly!
An imperfect world means that in some senses of those words we are all imperfect in our characters and our being. Unbalanced? Caught between ethics and morality? to be good or bad, right and wrong, but of course never really knowing what this is? ...And who decides? Why?
Well perhaps it is this strive to reach infinity, an impossible destination that is the imperfection of our life. Aiming for the ultimate thing, the source, the shelf we cannot reach. Taking father's works and continuing his research. Or perhaps the mason trade. Like daddy who was in the Navy, I think I'll join the navy. Spewing repetitive cycles like a bad acid trip. But look at how beautiful the colours of the ride is! (get my drift?)
Aronfosky's film Pi is a visual way to imagine this futility and imperfection. The source, the code, the numerical value, the philosophical equation to eternal, infinite wisdom and understanding is what we supposedly gain in the world to come. To seek perfection one cannot live in a world of imperfection, and as Danny gets closer and closer to the number, the key to solving the absolute impossible causes his seizures get worse and worse.
We could take Tarkovsky's Stalker, when they enter the Zone and similarly, each professional wishes to gain wisdom and understanding to answer their ultimate questions and reasons for being on the earth, but as they get closer and closer to the source, existence gets harder and more dangerous, more complex and more surreal, booby traps. At one point, one man seeks to sabotage the zone with a stick of dynamite so no one can ever find out the meanings to their lives.
Turning back towards the world, our world, it seems as though we are inevitably trapped within boundaries and limitations and that no matter where we go or how far we get, we are always caught within a set of brackets. (Birth Death) (Left Right) (Here There)
We are, so to speak, like life caught in a condom, wriggling around inside, alive (and arguably dead), yet unable to swim towards that source, (and metaphorically speaking : )...that egg on the other side.
This is the basis for a new piece of work, sketches, I put down onto paper...