In September I was supposed to chair a discussion about Tolstoy’s essay “What is art?” with a stage director, an artist and an associate professor in Russian literature.
But my plane was delayed by more than 24 hours and the event had to be cancelled.
Today the event was supposed to take finally place, but mother passed away.
Somebody put a curse on this discussion, and I know who did it. Dada.
Because the Dadaist answer to the question what is art, is clear: canceled again.