Taras Voznyak
Before the gate of the Law or suggestions for understanding the painting of Vladimir Budnikov
Before the law sits a
gatekeeper. To this gatekeeper comes a man from the country who asks to gain
entry into the law. But the gatekeeper says that he cannot grant him entry at
the moment. The man thinks about it and then asks if he will be allowed to come
in later on. “It is possible,” says the gatekeeper, “but not now.” At the
moment the gate to the law stands open, as always, and the gatekeeper walks to
the side, so the man bends over in order to see through the gate into the
inside. When the gatekeeper notices that, he laughs and says: “If it tempts you
so much, try it in spite of my prohibition. But take note: I am powerful. And I
am only the most lowly gatekeeper. But from room to room stand gatekeepers,
each more powerful than the other. I can’t endure even one glimpse of the
third.”( Before the Law, Franz Kafka ).
This is how Franz Kafka outlined the meaning
of everything he did in his life - not only writing texts, though he refers to
texts in the first place - but the sense of all his life's efforts was to
"enter into the Law." Well, what will you say - apparently he was
talking about entering a religious canon, in which were generations and
generations of his ancestors - orthodox Jews. But it's really not that simple.
We should try to determine for ourselves what is this law. Obviously, the Law,
is something inherent, some kind of regulation that defines a person's entire
life, perhaps the Truth they are being let down, the Truth that stands before
the person who is affirmed before him. Are these hundreds, if not thousands, of
the regulations that have determined and continue to determine the life of a
religious person? Unlikely. For the secularized Franz Kafka, and for most of
us, the Law of his Jewish, and our non-Jewish, however, ritualized religious
ancestors has long been out of date. What eventually led to it, but often our
extremely neurotic conditions - whether or not the entire Europeanized society
has slowly plunged into it over the last few hundred years. We are still
yearning for certain law. Evidence of such metaphysical anguish the importance
of the Law is not only the art of Kafka, but also the whole ethos of new
European intellectual searching, which are increasingly reminds not seeking but
throwing … What is his "The Castle" ("Das Schloß",
1926) as not the materialization of the Law in this boulder castle that hangs
over the neighborhood in which people nestle. And where the law is, there is
its violation and punishment. From there the whole metaphor of the punishment -
The Trial (Der Prozeß, 1925), The Judgment (Das Urteil, 1912), In the
Penal Colony (In der Strafkolonie, 1914)…
Did Kafka stand or stood in front of the gate
for something to strive for, to yearn for, to hear the sounds of, through
dozens of gates and doors? Obviously not. This is a sign of the times. Or an
era that lost connection with the law. And once again I emphasize that this is
not just about some religious dogmas. Rather, it is a matter of a point of
reference on which a person verifies himself and realizes himself. The general
paradigm of expectation simply captivated the entire culture of the twentieth
century. Moreover, the expectations were manifested in different manifestations
- both as their own expectation and as a provocation of the meeting, even by the
extreme hysterical demand of the Law to appear and appear before a person.
Thus, Samuel Beckett, 1906–1989, or more precisely Estragon and Vladimir, when
confronted with the meaninglessness of a world not connected to the law
(Molloy, 1951; Malone meurt, 1951; L'innommable, 1953), submissively expects
for the manifestation of the Law - "En attendant Godot", 1952. But
there were also more toxic requirements for the manifestation of the Law
through its provocation, breaking all possible and impossible principles and
regulations. Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Destouches, 1894–1961 did not
expect nor yearn, but dam up to the open gate of the Law with all possible
enthusiasm - provoked the One at the gates or the One at the gates to the
manifestation of “Journey to the end of the night” ( Voyage au bout de la
nuit), 1932; “Death on Credit” («Mort à credit») (1936). His texts
violate all possible and impossible regulations, there are no rules that would
not be violated. The law is broken to the ground. But at the same time, a man
breaks down - some pieces of meat are left behind ... This rebellion of Celine
or his proto-hero, and he himself is Celine, reminds him of the same
provocation with violation of the Law of Job … Of course, at times, this
expectation, given the personality of the human constitution, took on more
ritualized forms, such as Bruno Schulz (1892–1942), a master of both
words, a brilliant writer, and a
brilliant graphic artist. And it is Schulz's case that is spectacular when we
try to enter into that expectation (and I have no doubt what it is about),
which, to my mind, is somehow detached from specifics, as if abstracted by
Vladimir Budnikov's art. If I were looking for some verbal expressions of this
expectation, and the expectation inevitably implies a certain gravity,
temporality, seriality (this term is essential for Budnikov's series), perhaps
even fatigue, stretched in time of longing and boredom, then Schulz's prose
would be most adequate: " In the black thickets of the park, in the hairy
coat of bushes, in the mass of crusty twigs there were nooks, niches, nests of
deepest fluffy blackness, full of confusion, secret gestures, conniving looks.
It was warm and quiet there. We sat on the soft snow in our heavy coats,
cracking hazelnuts of which there was a profusion in that spring-like winter.
Through the copse, weasels wandered silently, martens and ichneumons, furry,
ferreting elongated animals on short legs, stinking of sheepskin. We suspected
that among them were the exhibits from the school cabinets which, although
degutted and moulting, felt on that white night in their empty bowels the voice
of the eternal instinct, the mating urge, and returned to the thickets for
short moments of illusory life.
© Budnikov V. Square,
Flight Series, 2018
But slowly the phosphorescence of the
spring-like snow became dulled: it vanished then, giving way to a thick black
darkness preceding dawn. Some of us fell asleep in the warm snow, others went
groping in the dark for the doors of their houses and walked blindly into the
sleep of their parents and brothers, into a continuation of deep snoring which
caught up with them on their late return.
These nightly drawing
sessions held a secret charm for me, so that now I could nest forgo the
opportunity of looking for a moment into the art room. I decided however that I
would not stop for more than a little while. But walking up the back stairs,
their cedar wood resounding under my steps, I realised that I was in a wing of
the school building completely unknown to me. Not even a murmur interrupted the
solemn silence. The passages were broader in this wing, covered with a thick
carpet and most elegant. Small, darkly glowing lamps were hung at each corner.
Turning the first of these, I found myself in an even wider, more sumptuous
hall. In one of its walls there was a wide glass arcade leading to the interior
of an apartment. I could see a long enfilade of rooms, furnished with great
magnificence. The eye wandered over silk hangings, gilded mirrors, costly
furniture and crystal chandeliers and into the velvety softness of the
luxurious interiors, shimmering with lights, entangled garlands and budding
flowers. The profound stillness of these empty rooms was filled with the secret
glances exchanged by mirrors and the panic of friezes running high along the
walls and disappearing into the stucco of the white ceilings. (Cinnamon Shops
Bruno Schulz). What is prose or graphics? What is it, if not expectations.
However, again we come back to the question - waiting for what? Schulz gives
the following answer: “I faced all that magnificence with admiration and awe,
guessing that my nightly escapade had brought me unexpectedly into the
Headmaster's wing, to his private apartment. I stood there with a beating
heart, rooted to the spot by curiosity, ready to escape at the slightest noise.
How would I justify, if surprised, that nocturnal visit, that impudent prying?
In one of those deep plush armchairs there might sit, unobserved and still, the
young daughter of the Headmaster. She might lift her eyes to mine black,
Sybilline, quiet eyes, the gaze of which none could hold. But to retreat
half-way, not having carried through the plan I had, would be cowardly.
Besides, deep silence reigned in those magnificent interiors, lit by the hazy light
of an undefined hour. Through the arcades of the passage, I saw on the far side
of the drawing room a large glass door leading to the terrace. It was so still
everywhere that I felt suddenly emboldened. It did not strike me as too risky
to walk down the short steps leading to the level of the drawing room, to take
a few quick steps across the large costly carpet and to find myself on the
terrace from which I could get back without any difficulty to the familiar
street.” The protagonist of Schulz's text still dared to fly through the gates
of the Law in order to escape immediately ...
Highly aesthetized,
hyper-refined and not seemingly involved in all these human sobs of canvases
and Budnikov's graphics, from my point of view, they are the listening to the
murmurings, whispers, nests of blackness, dreams, secret gestures. that can be
caught near this gate... And Budnikov's creativity, like Kafka's, Beckett's and
Schulz's, is not a Céline rebellion, but a respect for the gate. Of
course, there is much to discuss, and so to speak, about composition,
tactility, tectonics, and these canvases, and this imaginary (or not?) gate.
However, the most significant one, to me, is that Budnikov time after time,
with almost manic obsession, sketches this portal (the word here is very
important for my speculation-portal ), shows it to us from one to the other.
side. A little trying to barely lift the veil that hides from us something
behind this gate. Thus he constantly and in silence indicates something. Yes,
there are many works. The whole series. Yes, sometimes that statement seems
like a talk of Estragon and Vladimir, or Molloy ...However, with Schulz's
respect, because it is no longer a joke, not a clown. It blows from the gate.
It is not known what. Not that cold. Not the law. By some norm ... Law and
Truth, after all, always appear for a person distant and cold. The human mashup
is afraid of it, beware. Budnikov walks with Schulz along the wall, by which is
the Law. They give each other master classes in the art of silent silence,
sensible minuet lessons - with all due respect to the craft and the art of
graphics. Somewhere so metaphorically one could describe what Professor
Vladimir Budnikov is doing. I think this text may be somewhat unexpected for
him. The analogies and metaphors here are very distant and subtle. They need a
great deal of readiness and conciseness with the texts that I am involved in
here to at least outline what I want to say about the very difficult work of a
distinguished professor. Perhaps they do not correspond at all to how he
outlines the meaning of his work. It may be based on the law of crafts,
proportions and masses. But that doesn't change anything. It should be
remembered that the traditional illusion is that through the work its author
not only talks to us, but also fully realizes himself. I think it's more
complicated. In the end, because of the various circumstances that I will not
expand, it turns out that it is not only we create our works, in our own manner
but something or someone leads us - whether a cultural arm, or a "moral
law within us" («das moralische Gesetz in mir»; («Kritik der praktischen
Vernunft», 1788; Immanuel Kant, 1724–1804), and maybe the law behind the gate?
Someone who stands behind this portal? For each answer will be his own answer.
This is the subject of long discussions of the same virtual Budnikov and
Schulz, who, of course, they did not realize that they were having that long
and wise discussion, because for known reasons they could not know each other,
they passed away in time - but still continue to discuss… Although, who said
they passed. And who is certain that they do not know each other. What matters
to us is that they are struggling with the same problem - whether and when they
can enter the gate. What if it there is nothing? And then what? And what if we
really can't come in? And good advice for a person is not to go there …
And again I ask myself,
what do my previous speculations have in common with precision-corrected
compositions and Budnikov series? And in general, is it important that Budnikov
himself agrees with such an interpretation of his work? The answer will be
double. In fact, the author's consent, with all due respect to him, is not so
significant. On the other hand, I think that the author will deeply agree with
this interpretation, even though it will surprise him. But that first
impression. It will be overcome - and not in the light of the polity over the
author of these considerations, but rather by the sense of what he is trying to
put into words. And here comes the result. What does the author say about? And
about the fact that the man and the artist of Vladimir Budnikov is a "man
on the threshold". Despite all the fear of such analogies, John the
Baptist emerges. Yes, he is the archetype of the "man in front of the
gate", and the Kafka, and Beckett, and Celine, and Schulz. And Kafka,
Beckett, Celine, Schulz themselves are “people in front of the gate”. Is it
possible to appeal to them that they did not have the spirit to take the first
step and enter that portal? Can they be appealed because they are "waiting people"?
Not at all. Because the decision, despite all the illusion that you can just
enter this gate and then "open" to you, is illusory. And Kafka, on
one page of his text, showed it in every possible way. The portal opens at its
own time and in its place, when it wants to explain it to us in an unexplained
way. For John the Baptist, too, it was quite obvious that there was a portal in
front of him. But he could not enter this gate. The era of abandonment is not
over. Let us take this metaphor in this text as a metaphor, not as a religious credo - the Law is something
broader, if we may say so. And it is futile to try to encourage its completion.
The portal opens whenever it wants. Someone will say when there are appropriate
conditions. Yes. It will open in appropriate time. And before that, we must
listen, sniff the air, catalog every stroke of the portal that may someday be
born of the Truth revealed in revelation, the form of which we do not know and
cannot know that revelation. And it may not be born. At least in our life, life
in front of the gate.
1. Franz Kafka. Before
the Law / Translated from German by Ivan Koshelevtsi // Ukraine and Jews,
Hebrews, Jews. Lviv, Independent Cultural Journal “Ї”, 1996.
2. Samuel Beckett.
Waiting for Godot / Translated from the French by Vladimir Dibrova // French
play of the twentieth century. Theatrical avant-garde. - Kiev: Fundamentals,
1993.
3. Bruno Schulz. Cinnamon
Shops / Translation from Polish Taras Wozniak // Wozniak Taras. Bruno Schulz.
Return. - Lviv: Independent Cultural Journal “Ї”, 2012.
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