Arlind Manxhuka, philosophy scholar, activist
“Pak buk’” / “A little bread”
Self-exposure
It is usually man’s attempt to find consciousness. His life is with deviations and approximations with himself, sometimes kills and sometimes caresses the conscience. Its selfs guardian. When self does not meet the consciousness, then the conscious comes. Although belatedly and with many consequences, it is there, to kill our minds again. To enlighten us.
Art has been forgotten by the system and society, perhaps it is luxury. Even the art that represents our reality does not find visitors, perhaps people do not want to see their condition being painted outside themselves, they are content with the unpainted reality. Apparently, they do not want their conscience exposed, they are quite hurt.
This time, I encountered a brutal attempt. Perhaps like a belated consciousness, the painting was brought to Prizren. It came to see the reality exhibition. The painting was in need for reality, for people. It needs to see the world and not to sit still in its own abstraction.
A crooked, poor, half-naked man. Overwhelmed, down. On his sideway, up, a mirror. While we were looking at the man, eyes immediately moved to the mirror. After the conversation with the man, talking to ourselves. He turned his back on us out of shame, we were looking at ourselves in the face. In fact, he was not talking to us because he could not confess his story more than it seemed. His class has no language. He could not represent himself. The history determined him. Actually, he had no shame, we were thinking about his shame.
That’s why the mirror was there. It was not important how you looked at the painting, it was however important how did you see yourself after the painting. There are two ways: you rejoiced that you were not in his skin and felt exalted in the mirror as an art connoisseur or you suddenly get up not being able to endure why that painting is there. There was another option perhaps, there were some who looked at the painting and then the mirror and saw themselves as guardians of the crooked man’s class, but this was only happening for a few moments. The fact that they were there to see made them realize that they belong to another class, they recognize but still do not feel the man. They were thinking, but do not experience the life of the crooked man.
It was a multiple rift: The reality in painting, the painting to people, the people in painting, people in front of the mirror, people in front of themselves. Entrance to the reality but also exit to the same place. There was no escape. Conscience had to be killed. I moved out of the painting, from the mirror and now I am moving out of writing and the paper. I’m going back to where I was. The painting. To the painting of the crooked reality.
………………..
All these thoughts came to my mind when I saw this painting of the young artist, my friend, Arianit Beqiri, who had done something different. He did not invite us to his exhibition, but he brought it to us. This is not his first work that I have seen, but one among his works that has inspired me the most and immersed me in thoughts. I look very much forward and cannot wait to see more of Arianit’s work.
