Art as Life

What art suggests us, and what art requires, is love.

Love as excitement, love as dedication, love as work, love as belief.

To believe that it is ultimatively important to get to this pitch, to figure out that sound, to be sure with a particular rhythm. As good as we can, and as detailed as a situation in composing requires. And this even there is no payment for it. Even if nobody even notices. Even if no one appreciates.

This is the difference between belief and calculation. This is the difference between dedication and product standard.

And this is a model for life in general. To appreciate each act in life, in itself, and in ideal act in love, act as participation of love.

(Which horrible contrast to reality?)

What remains of art if there is no support, if there are no institutions, if there is no ministry of art, if there is no payment. It is this love which remains, this knowledge of a particular value which is "as such" and "in the matter". The beauty remains which comes out of it, and the labor which is a necessary part of it. And to share it with others, perhaps only very few, perhaps many.

This always existed although it did not shine in the light of glory and success. It may have been invisible and probably mostly without words. This kind of normality was actually always my ideal. I wanted to live a simple life, but a life in art.