Time of being
29
Oct
There is a time of not being, we are complaining today of the acceleration, but Chul-Han’s
diagnosis in The burnot Society is not so distant from that made by St. Augustine 14 centuries ago: “What is time? How are the past and the future, since the past is no longer and the future is not yet? “And the present? We barely say “now” and it has already fallen in the past “, this in a time when neither the technology of the press existed, what changed then?
Salvador Dali’s picture gives us an idea about the “persistence of memory” and the right to forgetfulness sanctioned by the European Union court on May 13, 2014 gives the diagnosis of a modern “disease”: hyper connectivity, in a Brazilian slang: we enter the “stack”.
The aid of machines that should give us rest periods in transmitting part of our work to them, and being able to perform long tasks faster should give us rest, but we no longer know how to have the period of contemplation and leisure, it seems to be “a time lost”.
We blame this acceleration for the machine of efficiency, concentration of capital, and other phenomena that predate the internet, there are many authors of the last century who touch the subject, after all Paulicéia Desvairada (Crazy people of St. Paul) (write in 1922) is a well-known novel of Mario de Andrade of 1922, and the first studies of the information explosion in the area of science date back to the 1940s.
Says Mário de Andrade about the artist in his poem dedicated to this:
My desire is to be a painter – Lionardo.
whose ideal in mercy heats you;
making the open to the world of the wide corolla
illustrious dream that I await in my bosom.
My longing is, bringing to the dark background of life.
The color of the Venetian school,
give shades of pink and gold, for alms.
how much there is of Penedia* or thistle.
When you find the source of the inks
and the exalted brushes with which you paint,
Veronese! your pictures and your friezes.
I will live where misfortunes live;
And I’ll live to color smiles.
on the lips of those who imprecate or who weep.
It may be a hard time to do poetry, or to contemplate, but we cannot let the Self-die because of a Time whose fragility is always gone. * (type of rocks group)
