THE MARATHON OF BREAK 2.4

Since four years. Three times a week. One hour. I’m running. In four years, I had enough time to forge some solid philosophy of running - a philosophy that can be applied to any situation, even artistic situations. No need to speed, the most important is to last. No need to compete, the most important is to go at your own pace. Etc. Let’s spare you the other gems of this brilliant anthology.

For four years, I have been convinced that I was a unique specimen of running curator. Let’s blame it on cultural prejudices. Promenade, after all, is the actual rhythm of creative activity (think about all these Greek philosophers strolling and conversing) – not running. Even more, isn’t sport suspicious – totalitarian cult of the strongest and capitalistic body management? Recently, though, I happened to bump into many other running curators, artists, art spaces directors. Enchanted brotherhood! Art was no longer our sole conversation. We could also compare our sport records and all the benefits running had brought into our life. Once passed the excitement of belonging to such unexpectedly wide a group, questions surfaced. Did this extensive success of running among art people mean that we felt more concerned about our well-being, more permeable to the pervasive health ideology, or more stressed by our professional condition? Let’s accept for a while the latter as work hypothesis: why to choose running then? Why not golfing? Stretching? Swimming? Hiking? Practicing Tai chi? Is there no other sport that can alleviate pressure and contribute to our serenity even when our grant applications are rejected? Does running express our deepest feelings - our secret wish to flee the art world?

What if the answer was: because running is (almost) for free. True. Once you get your sport shoes and trousers, you need no further investment for the whole year. Let’s make the calculation. Reasonable quality sport shoes: 75 Euro. Trousers: 20 Euro. Total: 95 Euro. Or per month: 7.916666666666667 Euro… Let’s say: 7,92 Euro each month. We can all do that, no? Wait a minute. Am I saying that most of the artists and curators are in so bad a financial situation that the only sport they can afford is running? Yes. Exaggeration! Victimization! That’s what you think, isn’t it? Of course you will tell me that: politicians run and they are not exactly what we may call “poor”; running has become extremely trendy (again); park alleys can prove a fashion podium for expensive sportswear; and so on.

Money: oh, the unpleasant term! The M-word resonates badly in the art universe. Money is our dirty secret, our schizophrenia. Lingering romantic image of the suffering artist; glorification of deprivation as source of inspiration, work ethics, purity, and value; perception of the artwork as some futile, luxury product for elites; contemptuous scepticism toward artistic efficacy when social issues, conflicts, humanitarian problems are at stake; rejection of art out of the sphere of serious activities; biblical idea that, since work should be everything but pleasure and fulfilment, art can’t be work (that’s why, it is known, artists are not workers)… These long-enduring clichés are at the heart of the relation between art and money. More or less consciously assimilated, they have shaped our psychology, conduct, and expectations. They explain why so many artists, curators, associations… resist in conditions that would have led any other reasonable person or group to quit (Of course, masochism generates some satisfaction too – isn’t self-sacrifice a sign of exceptionality). This degree of endurance explains in turn why public authorities, governmental bodies, potential sponsors discard art initiatives so easily: Who are you, small fish? Which benefit our support to your project will bring us? Can’t you do it for less? (It’s so easy to be picky given the plethora of proposals). And we’ll say: “Yes! Yes, we can do it for less, we can do it for almost nothing, everything you will give will help us!” Here we are: we’ll take from our own pocket to cover some expenses. I ask you: have you ever seen any other professional category paying for working? Imagine the situation: you’re a city bus driver, you pay the fuel of your vehicle; you work in whatever administration, you buy the ink cartridges for printing official documents. It would be ridiculous, isn’t it?

You’re facing this sordid, pathetic description, and you think: “No way, what about all these huge scale projects that multiply worldwide? Venice Biennial, Istanbul Biennial, Prague Biennial, Tirana Biennial, Paris Biennial, Basel Art Fair, Miami Art Fair, Documenta, Sculpture Project of Munster, and so on, and so on… You read recently that the work of Ai Weiwei, made especially for the Documenta 12, has cost about 3 millions Euro. So, there is money! What are we talking about then? We are talking about structural dysfunctions. Yes, there is money. We agree. The art market is even flourishing. Rich collectors, prestigious events, wealthy museums, successful artists and curators who run from one show to the other… yes, they exist. Let’s admit it: some people and institutions find it perfectly respectable to live in symbiosis with money. It’s fine for them. We would all like to belong to the (shrinking) magic circle of the happy few. Who doesn’t dream of realizing, once in his/her life, a project in optimal conditions, without worrying for financial backup? The problem however is that, in such system, wealth distribution gets increasingly unequal: money goes to the rich – it’s a basic principle. The others (that is, the majority) are left with the fight for crumbs. Believe me, it’s a struggle for life – mere aesthetic Darwinism. To get the biggest crumb, you must possess the right status (individuals are never welcome); the right country of implementation; the right partners; the right participants; an astonishing innovative concept; a media strategy worthy of the White House PR, and a lot of favours to be returned.

There was a time when saying “Balkans” would, by touch of magic wand, open the precious strong-box of foundations. As soon as your Balkan project would be “collaborative”, “cross-border”, “trans-national”, the cash drawer would function. Because, you must figure it out, all these foundations are extremely benevolent. They are the heroes of our epoch, the ‘deus ex machina’ of our aesthetic tragedy. Show them a war-torn country and a group of local artists who want to do something there, they will rush and pour manna. Alas, the good old time when the Balkan area was the object of such affection has vanished. Nowadays, the focus has shifted more Eastern: from Iraq to China, from Iran to Burma… Any call for proposal receives hundreds of applications. How will your project stand a chance in the Saint of Saints, namely the foundation committee? Do you have any idea of the creativity that is demanded in such competition and overbid of international multi-disciplinary collaborations aiming at the development of civil society and cultural diversity in conflict-ridden situations? No. You need to go through the application ordeal to understand.

As we bitterly jump through all these hoops, we sometimes come to think that it should not work this way, that we’re dependent on too many agendas, that we make too many compromises, and that we have too many competitors. Let’s be realistic: we’re only one drop in an ocean of art projects, why should we be the chosen one? Yet, being one drop doesn’t prevent us from being representative of all the others. The difficulties we confront, obstacles, bad news, stress, ongoing downward revision of our ambitions and objectives because of unexpected cuts in cultural budgets and withdrawals of promised sponsorship, are the portion of so many others. Because these issues are the immerged part of the iceberg, unknown to most of the people who pass our outdoor installations or give a quick glance to our performances, because they form our daily life, they require visibility. There’s something else: it’s called solidarity. When dysfunctions affect the major part of a socio-professional category, those who are concerned try to interest other segments of the population in their situation, to show how their own problems resonate in the whole society – which means that they try, somehow, to act in unison, even for a while. Why not us? Maybe has time come for us to offer a united front, to seek solutions altogether, to express the problematic situation in which we’re stuck?

As any other cause which is hardly granted attention, ours has requested a change in tactics. Visibility, yes - but how? Banners? Performances? Seminars? Conferences? Advertisements? Will they make us loud and clear? Will they bring solutions? No. Therefore, we have decided to run out our problems. Ah, the uplifting power of running and its lasting effects, our neurotransmitters serotonin, dopamine, epinephrine, and beta-endorphin stimulated, all of which elevating mood and reducing depression and anxiety… What do you think? That we’ll run only for miraculously getting rid of our troubles? No. Let’s confess it: we’re fed up with competition. Art goes beyond the limitations of the institution or affinity group we belong to. Art is a professional activity like any other. Still, it gets no real acknowledgement as such. It is an endangered activity because our interests are not protected. There is no protection because the competition that originates from the lack of cultural funds and the dubious help granted by foundations hampers the building of a minimum of mutual aid needed nowadays.

Should we be ashamed to be so many creators, to love our job, to think that art is a significant contribution to society? Should hostility determine our relationships because we are not supplied with enough means to peacefully coexist? Should we feel guilty to even ask money because such money could be allocated to more important matters? No. We want to change the rules of the game. We could strike, we could organize a demonstration. We’ll run a marathon. We think it is a playful way to express serious concerns as to our professional situation as well as the place art is given in society. Let’s confess something more: we’re fed up to ask charity from foundations and authorities. It crosses our mind that people too sometimes wonder whether the taxes they pay go straight to useless shows and events they never attend. Thus, we have decided to skip intermediaries and to connect straightforward with the audience. This time, people will see the result. What we propose to the public is an active involvement from the beginning of the process. The money that will be collected during the marathon will be used for the people who supported us. It will take the form of a cultural event specifically organized for them. As such, our supporters will be, with us, responsible of what they see, what they shape, what they present. Sweat has a price. Here we are, ready to start.