Sometimes you feel like you are going round and round on the same subjects. You write and draw and talk about it, but then you feel like you want to add more. It has been on your mind for a while.
Maybe it takes you years to mention it, maybe you spend weeks planning how to mention it. Finally you mention it, then you come across it in a different way and you go back and work on it.
Recently I mentioned the concept of “Long Art”, which is art that is spread out over a very long period of time and worked on slowly, and the subject of “Archiving”, giving examples of my own. In fact, although these two themes do not seem to have much in common at first sight, the common point is time. The artistic one starts now and aims at the future, while the functional one starts now and looks for the moment when it will affect the events of the past.
Apart from the perception of time, there was another common point that I touched on, but it was a bit detailed. In the article on art, I tried to emphasise that in the future work will be done for everyone, not for individuality. In the article on archiving, in addition to my personal views, I mentioned a subject I wanted to do about my family lineage. So with this project I want to help future generations to know as much as I can — at least about their family’s past. The funny thing is that I mentioned this idea again yesterday when I was talking to my father. And today I came across a project of similar importance. I felt the need to write about it.
Photo by Kris-Mikael Krister on Unsplash
Then let’s come to the main theme, because this seems to me to be the intersection of the two I mentioned. It has both an artistic aspect and a structure that carries our current knowledge, dreams and thoughts into the future and is designed to be stored for a century.
The name of this project created by Katie Paterson is “Future Library” and it started in 2014. Its aim is to store the writings of one author every year, on the condition that they are read in 2114. These authors are chosen from all over the world.
Works written on paper cut from trees (it is said that more have been planted than felled) in the forests of Norway (the Nordmarka region north of Oslo) are kept in a minimalist library, the Oslo Public Library.
It does not matter what the subject is, what kind of work is being written.
Each author can only write on one page and this writing will never be shared. The authors and those who wish to witness this historic moment will be honoured with a short speech and a ceremony in Norway. The authors explain the title of their article for the first time, and this is the only thing they explain. They hand over the artefact, in the sealed box they carry with them, to the person responsible for receiving and storing it.
Photo by M.T ElGassier on Unsplash
We meet Margaret Atwood as the author who takes up the torch. Of course, starting with such a powerful name attracts a lot of attention. I strongly recommend you take a look at the website I linked to above. Although there are no details about the article, there are short videos where you can watch the speech and the handover ceremony I mentioned. There are also short texts where you can read the authors’ thoughts and feelings about the project.
According to the website, the tenth author who is previously selected will meet the community in this forest on 26 May to hand over her writing. You can also find the previous authors, article titles and other relevant information from the source here.
As I analysed the project, I couldn’t help but put myself in these writers’ shoes. I kept thinking about what I would have written. The best and worst thing is that we only have one page. Of course it is symbolically satisfying, but it is very little to leave a message for the future.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
All my life I have felt a lack of the time in which I have lived; I am not sure how true this is or how understandable it is. But I thought that if it could happen to me, it could happen to others, so I wanted to say it in case there were those who would understand. So I developed a character that was always looking to the future. When I began to feel that I was missing out on living in the moment (“growing up”), I began to isolate myself from these thoughts and feelings. Of course the same goes for getting lost in the labyrinth of the past that nostalgia creates. I try to keep both away from me.
But there is also the reality of life beyond us, the linear structure of time with its forward flow. Whether we like it or not, our thoughts formed for the future will come to light. What I have mentioned in my articles can be seen as an exaggerated form of this. Because while talking about 100 years ahead is a normal period for the world, countries or perhaps ideologies, it is a fact that this is not the case for human life.
I have no idea whether I cling to such thoughts because of my inability to make productive use of my individual life or because I have come to realise that, communally, human beings cannot go any further (in this day and age). In any case, although I have long since given up making my own plans for the future, the desire to prepare surprises from the past for others, or to communicate with them in this way, outweighs everything else.
The diaries I keep, my enthusiasm for writing articles, my passion for writing books, my project of recording my family tree and the detailed information that goes with it, or my interest in such long-term artistic and functional formations… Each one of them — if properly and diversely archived according to the order of time — is like letters reaching into the future, shaking hands, hopeful glances and the collision of a thousand and one emotions in the heart.
The feeling of living my future without forgetting my present reminds me that I am human. I do this no matter how silly or dreamy it sounds. The desire to fit more into my short life (no matter how efficiently I do it) will always remain. The only way I can think of to keep this going is to share such thoughts and, if possible, to do something to make them a reality.
To start today, to ensure its continuity in the future and to give it an immortality that lasts as long as it allows.
Maybe I won’t be an artist who signs big projects, but I will try to do it on my own. I don’t know if this inner emptiness I mentioned is real, but maybe I can deal with the following periods in a better way. Is this an excuse for feeling unproductive, a selfish desire that will never end, or the product of naive curiosity? Perhaps the answer lies with everyone but me, perhaps time will tell.
Instead of thinking, “what’s the point of being renowned after I die”, I prefer to think “how can I still contribute to people after I die”. Regardless of the purpose of our existence in the universe, we are living beings who are always obliged to move forward. We will continue to do so in one way or another. Until…
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