In the grand tapestry of artistic expression, there exists a curious and somewhat perplexing phenomenon: the deliberate act of burning one’s own creations. This peculiar practice, while more often provocatively deliberate to challenge convention, can leave the dedicated kollector in a state of mild vexation, ruing the enigmatic motivations behind such actions. Let us embark on a journey of contemplation, exploring the intricacies of such ritualistic incineration and its implications for the world of art and those who seek to collect it.
Consider, if you will, the case of Bill Drummond, a figure whose artistic endeavors have long captivated and confounded audiences. In a moment of whimsy, or perhaps calculated defiance, Drummond elected to consign several copies of his limited edition paperback, “Man Makes Bed,” to the flames during a public exhibition in the bustling city of Amsterdam. To the discerning collector, whose pursuit of completeness borders on obsession, such gestures are nothing short of irksome. The sudden reduction in available copies only serves to inflate the price of the remaining ones, making the task of acquisition both more arduous and costly.
Yet, in the midst of this frustration, one cannot help but ponder the deeper significance of such actions. What drives an artist to destroy their own creations, particularly those which are held in high regard by collectors and enthusiasts alike? Is it an act of rebellion against the commodification of art, a rejection of the notion that creativity can be quantified and possessed? Or perhaps it’s a statement of self-liberation, a declaration that the artist’s vision transcends materiality and ownership. Or maybe it’s bollocks.
Indeed, the act of burning one’s own work is not merely a physical destruction, but a symbolic gesture laden with meaning and ambiguity. It challenges our preconceptions of value and permanence, forcing us to confront the ephemeral nature of human endeavor. For every book cast into the fire, another inevitably takes its place. The cycle of creation and destruction continues unabated, rendering the notion of completeness a fleeting illusion.
Yet, amidst the ashes of what has been lost, there exists the potential for new growth and discovery. In embracing the impermanence of our pursuits, we are reminded of the ever-changing nature of human expression. A kollector, once bound by the pursuit of completeness, finds liberation in the acceptance of incompleteness. For it is in the gaps and absences left by the flames that new narratives can take root, new connections forged.
And so, as we contemplate the flickering flames of our artistic endeavors, let us do so with a sense of quiet reflection. Let us acknowledge the frustration of the collector, while also recognising the inherent futility of complete pursuit. For, in the end, the true value of art lies not in its physical manifestation, but in the ideas it embodies and the emotions it evokes. It is a force that transcends boundaries and defies categorisation, inviting us to embrace the uncertainty of our own creative journey.
In conclusion, the act of burning one’s own work, while intensely annoying for a completist collector, serves as a poignant reminder of the transient nature of human expression. It is a ritualistic incantation that challenges our notions of value and permanence, inviting us to embrace the impermanence of our pursuits and find liberation in the acceptance of incompleteness. And it is in this spirit of renewal that the true essence of art is revealed: not as a static object to be possessed, but as a dynamic force that continues to evolve and inspire long after the flames have died away.
In response GANTOB wrote:
“I don’t know if you saw the news recently on deciphering a previously unknown passage about Plato’s last hours, from the ashes of Pompeii. Makes you think!”
To which YMoF replied:
It’s New Year’s Day 2317 – still six years to go before the KLF’s World Tour finally begins.
In one of the first unlicensed applikations of quantum unentanglement technology, dedicated descendants of 1990s’ KLF fans succeed in unearthing the final unrecorded utterance of either the Elderly Gentleman or his TowerBlock accomplice from their Striktly Unrekorded death day* interview:
When asked, by the 21st Century’s AI-bot reincarnation of stalwart BBC DJ Steve Wright (or maybe it was @GANTOB or @PopJustice), why they continually self-destructed their work, one of the pair was finally heard to re-utter the word “Whatever”. The other was finally seen, by the miracle of quantum unentanglement-vision, to silently nod.
Back in the 24th Century, the BBC tracks down a descendant of Gimpo for a characteristically colourful comment for the morning news show – “Boolukks!”.
* before which one of them was best, allegedly.
By Young Man on Facebook, 7 May 2024
Pamphlet 39 of the #52PamphletsVisit the 52 pamphlets page to find out how you could submit your own pamphlet.
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