ROMANCING THE PAST: THE FORGOTTEN WORLD OF INGRES

After years of waiting and countless pages read, I have finally made it here. I am now a part of a lifestyle that is as different from own as I could have ever thought to achieve. I have one translator for speaking and another for currency. They are both by my side at all times.

This place seems to be thriving solely on eternal passion and ageless traditions. Each day has a common theme and everyone has a common struggle. They are all caught in between past and present with no sign of advancement. But who am I to say otherwise?

Even as an outsider I can tell that everything is either abandoned or under construction, or maybe both. When you look closely at these modifications you can see that this has been going on for a decade or more. I counted five obelisks that are missing their tips and only one without signs of vandalism. They are all surrounded by red and white state granted barricades. These are the same barricades that appear to be encasing every important thing in this entire country.

There are crumbling sidings, over used bridges, industrial highways and misdirected literature sprayed onto ancient stone walls that are older than my country. Facts like these make it really hard to understand your role in the world. Does anyone over here care that I am a nephew of a judge, or a son of used car salesman? Does it really matter if I pride myself on my achievements?

Maybe this is a prediction of things to come; or a foreshadowing to a personal break through. Can I push my achievements even higher? How can I establish respect in not only my own country, but here as well? Better question, how strong do I have to be to remove these barricades?

Sadly, even as an outsider, I know that these images would not be the last victims of their kind. There are so many places back at home that resemble the same loss of cultural wealth. We simply view them as the country’s under-achievements. We never rally against them, instead we wait out the repairs. We are like a society of death-dealing lobbyists that profit from our own self-destruction.

Now looking back, I suppose I let my imagination run away from me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t usually do that. However, my anticipation was high, and like most travel enthusiasts I saw myself as a collector of cultural experiences. At the time, I guess I thought that title was saved only for amazing cultural experiences. I always conveniently block out the negative side to all things.

“Only think positively. The women will always love you if you are always thinking positively.” This is what Patrick’s Mom would always say to us when we were growing up. Perhaps this is why we always expected more from our surroundings. I think eagerness and worldliness has replaced every once of scar tissue in our bodies. I even remember a time when we sculpted these miniature versions of Saint Angelo de Ponte’s Castle and The Corboda Cathedral. We tried so hard to create one relic for each root of our family trees. Although it seems to be next to impossible to achieve such a goal now, at the time it felt important. It felt like it was the key to understanding ourselves and our future impacts on the world.

Needless to say, we have grown up since then. We now know how to read body language and how to catch ever little sly remark, even in foreign tongues. Maybe it is because we are a different breed, or even a different generation.

Whatever we are, we are certainly not more advanced. Our lack of qualifications and social status proved that years ago. Still, I have been practicing my verbal ability and I have even trained my mouth to alternate from mumbling to spoken word. I want to appear as authentic as possible. However, with planning and practice comes perfection, then routine and soon I will become, once again, a cross-breed of a superficial culture and my authentic heritage. This is why we need a plan to preserve our history.

Maybe, if we learn to treasure our artifacts more gracefully, perhaps that would put an end to our prayers for the art of lost prevention and revitalization. Or, maybe what we really need are life-sized imitations of the real things. Hallow-bodied frames made by the world’s greatest installation artists. They can create a mock version of the Tower of Pisa. In the middle of the night, presumably during off season, we hire a group of construction workers to meet them with their equipment, dig out the tower, air- lift it out of the country, drop in the replacement and then secure the original one in another location that society hasn‘t flooded yet.

Then after we have successfully replaced all historic masterpieces, we will open it to the public. It would be like a modified version of Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton. Hopefully without all the deaths.

Children would learn so much and they would have fun taking photos of themselves pushing the tower up from a distant. Illusionary memories have always been the ones that embed themselves quickest into a child’s frontal lobe. Think of all the knowledge and experience you can attain in one location. We can call it, “Romancing The Past: The Forgotten World.” I think Ingres would like that.

Oh no, it happened again. I let my imagination run away from me. Scratch that idea. It would never work! It would take days pull this off and it would be plastered all over the news.

Now wait, let‘s think about this; what if we knock out our communication systems? What if we launch missiles into space and destroy all of our satellites? We already know that we can do that. It is not beyond the realm of comprehension. We could just call The Army and threaten them with a life long sentence of jury duty. No one would ever back out with that as our leverage.

I suppose what I am asking for is a secret society that can gently replenish our history. Make life feel like the early 1900’s again. I want to see Venice the way Whistler did. With washes of vibrant color drenched with a murky umber finish. I think we deserve the same truthfulness. Not a region where only 63% of its tenants are actually from that country. We must live where we were born. We have to care enough to build our own culture.

Take me for example. I have based my entire existence off of the basic ethical system of Art. I try to intermingle struggle with joy, childhood with intellectual integrity and pain with sarcasm. These are the rudimentary ideas of professional advancement in my field. The only problem is, everyone’s aesthetic for achievement is entirely different. How do we rebuild a country of run-down factories, suppressed checking cards and an unreachable middle class?

Well, I think it is time to embrace and personify what we have. We should take pleasure in the cascade of nightfall like the Greeks do. We should all pose as old men in modest attire and paint the burning sunset as it spreads into hundreds of tonal variations of red. Then outsiders will call us Impressionists or Tonalists, however, those titles would be horribly outdated.

Now we have come to a time of change. Our plummeting accounts and eternal inspiration to create has put us at a cross-roads of ownership. It brings us back to the endless problem of lack of titles and categorization. Since the title, “Contemporary” has already been taken, and due to the fact that we are obviously not as original as we make ourselves out to be, I say we go by something else. Something that speaks about who we have become, what we have been dealing with and why we still produce art. This is without a doubt, The Preservational Period and we are Preservationalists.

A group of lesser known people who meet each other only by word of mouth. We communicate through levels of skills and place no value on rank or stature. We are active, approachable and constantly searching for solid ground and understanding. There will never be another break through like “anything we’ve ever seen before.” That is because everything as been attempted before.

No, what we are good at is keeping up with a tradition that is older than ourselves and realizing that it isn’t, more or less important than ourselves. Instead, the Preservationalist searches for an importance in all things. He creates because problems must be solved, because he wants to see more than what is right in front of him and because culture and society either invoke it or deny it.

On another note, when my family and I traveled to the Musé e du Louvre there was a feeling of great pride that hung above everyone’s heads. I could not tell where it was coming from but I think it was following us through out the whole country. I recall tourist and day trippers lining up in piles to see a piece by an artist that they have finally heard of. So many people disregarded the nameless, which is fine. They will still leave with an understanding of the life cycle or progression of our culture.

They may link Easter Island sculptures to Paul Gauguin’s “Rave Te Hiti Aamu (The Idol).” or even the infamous Greek sculpture of the Goddess of Victory, “Changing Winged Victory of Sam Thrace” with El Greco’s “Christ on the Cross Adored by Donors.” Why can’t these be true? If they see the resemblance than they have just added on to our history. Even if all of the other intermediary artists and crucial geographic information was left behind, at least they have their comparisons.

Without such comparisons, and knowledge of past successes, we would all continuously make the same foolish mistakes. We need to hunt down the beginning of our interests to understand why we think the way we do. There is always a way to prevent reproduction and there are always better and healthier ways of doing things. We should use our old decisions to motivate change and growth. We usually use Motherwell as our example of this.

As for me, whenever I approach such an array of knowledge I usually travel with quill in my right hand and papyrus in my left. I record each master’s work and try to chase down their ancestors. If I am conscious enough then I will analysis everything. From the placement of the piece in the room, to what piece is hung next to it and why the curator chose to present it that way. As a participant in this culture I believe these swift comparisons did not go unnoticed. I also believe that if you create your own illustrations from each personal favorite, you will eventually learn more about the playful struggle that each artist must goes through in order to deem a piece as “finished.”

By showing this kind of attention you are unknowingly participating in the life of work. If you end up seeing more than what the artist cared to show you than you have just revealed another layer of the piece. Or maybe you can appreciate it for what it truly is. A master piece of course but it is still a creation of man. To view the work in this way is not lessening the value of the piece. Actually, what you are doing is making it mortal and therefore, easier to conceive. If you analysis Robert Longo’s ‘06 series “Heritage” as a toast to the artist’s blood line and not a self righteous plea for importance than you can start to see how we can all benefit from past successes.

So lets just say that we have finally unified ourselves to the point that one person’s achievement is step forward for all of us. We finally re-open the lines of communication between cultures. Our professions no longer have walls that we are afraid to cross and we can now all be referenced under the same title. Perhaps we can start to build something larger than a gallery in New York or a museum in Paris. Maybe we could start assembling a community, or a culture that thrives on passion and traditions. Then as a collective we can learn to see our disappointments as experiences and learn to nurture a culture that is truly our own.