On humor - Ai Weiwei in Hyperallergic, (thanks to my friend P.)

‘On July 11, Zeit Magazin editor Elisa Pfleger, through our gallery, invited me to contribute 15–20 short reflections on the prompt “What I would have liked to know about Germany earlier” for an upcoming summer issue column. I subsequently wrote and submitted the piece. On July 23, in response to Zeit Magazin’s request for additional reflections in a more personal and light-hearted tone, I provided further contributions. Two days later, we were first shown a shortened and edited version by Pfleger, and then immediately afterward informed that Zeit Magazin’s Executive Editor Johannes Dudziak — Pfleger’s supervising manager — had reviewed the column, canceled its publication, and commissioned new contributions from other writers instead.’

‘When conversation becomes avoidance, when topics must not be mentioned, we are already living under the quiet logic of authoritarianism.
When the majority believe they live in a free society, it is often a sign that the society is not free. Freedom is not a gift; it must be wrestled from the hands of banality and the quiet complicity with power.’

(…)

‘Political leaders make decisions steeped in fallacy and failure. This reflects the broader political condition of a society in which most people have surrendered their awareness and even their basic agency — allowing such leaders to enact their mistakes on their behalf.’

(…)

‘I have no family, no fatherland, never known what it is to belong. I belong only to myself. In the best of circumstances, that self should belong to everyone.
I still do not know what art is. I only hope that what I make might touch its edges while it seems unrelated to anything. And in truth, in the best of circumstances it is unrelated to me, for the “I” already melts into everything.
Those things found in galleries, museums, and collectors’ living rooms — are they art? Who has declared them so? On what basis? Why do I always feel suspicion in their presence?’ (…)
‘In Berlin, I encounter the ever-present Schweinshaxe and Schnitzel, and I can hardly believe that such a highly developed, industrialized country offers such a monotonous selection of ingredients. Even more baffling is the sudden proliferation of Chinese restaurants — most of them noodle-based, and operating at a culinary level that any Chinese person could easily achieve at home. The variety of food and cooking methods is so limited here that people from all over the world feel compelled to open restaurants: Vietnamese, Thai, Turkish — you name it.
But the truly horrifying part? The sheer number of Chinese restaurants. I can only assume they believe that no matter what ends up on the plate, German customers will come running. In front of some of these establishments, there are even long queues — yet the food they serve bears little resemblance to anything recognizably Chinese.
My favorite food in Germany is the bread and sausage — you simply can’t find ones with such distinctive character anywhere else.’

(…)

‘The Germans might be the only people who are truly the furthest from a sense of humor.’

Read the article here.

Well, the rhetoric is delightfully bombastic. The questions are a bit sophomoric: ‘Those things found in galleries, museums, and collectors’ living rooms — are they art? Who has declared them so? On what basis? Why do I always feel suspicion in their presence?’

But alas. You can also ask, the hamburgers sold by McDonalds, are they food? Why do I always feel suspicion in the presence of a Happy Meal? Yes, good questions. You might not like the hamburger over there, but it’s food.

The observations that Germans don’t have a sense of humor and their cuisine is not worth a detour are older than the atomic bomb.

The self-congratulation behind this attempt at criticism is evident, and fair enough, many artists dabble in self-congratulations. Weiwie is not happy in Berlin and this is perfectly understandable, but maybe if he would try to learn German his attempt at revenge would consist of more than a few paragraphs of humorless and pretentious prose.

Freedom must be wrestled from the hands of banality.

After reading such a sentence, one almost feels sympathy for good old Donald Rumsfeld (‘feedom is unrully’).