I Have The Right To Destroy Myself

Sometimes fiction is more easily understood than true events. Reality is often pathetic.

Novels are food for the leftover hours of life, the in-between times, the moments of waiting.

There are only two ways to be a god: through creation or murder.

People who don’t know how to summarize have no dignity. Neither do people who needlessly drag on their messy lives. They who don’t know the beauty of simplification, of pruning away the unnecessary, die without ever comprehending the true meaning of life.

Why does nothing change, even when you set out for a faraway place?

I always take a close look at those who lose themselves in self portraits. They are solitary souls, prone to introspection, who have really grappled with their existence.

And still everything’s the same, even though I did my best to get as far away as I could.

A revolution cannot progress without the fuel of terror. With time that relationship inverts: the revolution presses forward for the sake of terror. Like an artist, the man creating terror should be detached, cold-blooded. He must keep in mind that the energy of the terror he releases can consume him.

It’s funny, the truth makes people uncomfortable, but a lie gets people excited. Isn’t that right?

But no matter how you die, the world always stays the same.

The present is re-created to immortalize memories. It's pathetic, but that's human tendency now.

An artist's passion shouldn't create passion. An artist's supreme virtue is to be detached and cold.

Performance art is different. I meet things directly. I see death and lust in audience’s eyes. Depending on what I see in their eyes, my work changes immediately. If the purpose of art is to confront beauty, especially live beauty, aren’t all other artistic forms fake? They are compromises and the residue of the desire for useless immortality. All criticism of performance art starts with the fear of true beauty. People preserve beauty because of their obsession with immortality. They are slaves of dead art.

The Japanese cameras that used to proliferate in these places have almost all been replaced by camcorders. Like a magic lamp, the camcorder swallows the palace and sucks in the pond in front. In these tourists' minds, the Belvedere is reduced into an unfocused square image, cast with a bluish tint. The present is re-created to immortalize memories. It's pathetic, but that's human tendency now.