I have a love-hate relationship with art in general. Because very often artists lack self-humor and too often suffer from a Napoleonic Complex. They look upon themselves from such heights and perceive their work to be of unmatched grandiosity. Look and reflect on your favorite artists and/or bands – how much they seek the approval and passionate love from their audiences, to the point it becomes hilariously odious. Groupies and more groupies, men and women alike, and collectors who worship their guru artists as if they were living gods… Today, at the front door of the new year, I feel so detached from all this glamour.
My point of reference is: in this time and age, we have to expand the limits of what art is and how we as individuals and as a culture perceive a certain work of art.
This LP is titled accordingly, and symbolizes a vision according to which art has an end or rather art might end at some point. Metaphorically, I feel as if artists are not as important a persona as they are often perceived and/or vision themselves to be. Unfortunately, unlike human touch, art cannot comfort one on his or her deathbed. Art is a remarkable transitional object, but it’s no substitute for so many things and experiences. Artistic creations become obsolete, they weary off with time, lose their initial relevance, become inanimate, inorganic and abiotic. This is why, although some would call me an artist (a title I don’t seek nor need in my age) – I look upon art in general and my creative adventures in particular with a lightweight tone…