On Kawara Died
On Kawara died yesterday. Based on my single, singular encounter with him, I can attest that he lived as he worked - with uncanny precision and determination and individuality. Months of appeals to his gallery preceded the interview I required. My qualifications and intentions were interrogated by his gallery with CIA-like scrutiny before I was granted permission to conduct my interview.
I was instructed to arrive at his favorite dusky bar in SoHo and immediately announced that he does not permit note-taking. I never posed a single question. Instead, he launched into a monologue – an onslaught of fascinating observations and uncanny theories. After three hours, I begged him to stop, since my mental storage capacity was crammed to capacity and I feared total collapse.
His comments about death are particularly relevant at this moment. “Most people don’t want to die. I don’t mind. We are not very knowledgeable about death because we have never tried it. I think death is a stage when one enters eternity. We come into the world crying. I think we should go out of the world laughing.”
Paraphrased versions of some of his many poignant observations follow:
– Americans are goal oriented. Always in a rush, always planning for the future. They do not live in the moment. This is not good. We don’t need purpose.
– I chose a million in my counting series because it is a big unit of time. After one million there exists nothingness. It is beyond the human capacity to grasp. It placed me in an expanded context. That is why I lived on the 13th floor without a telephone for years. There was a bank of phones outside on the street. Paying money for each minute made me conscious of the passage of time.
– As science developed, it constantly expanded time and redefined life and the earth. Each time science advances, God retreats. Still, God can’t be known. Thus, nothing changes. Ultimate knowledge remains elusive. It belongs to the territory of mystery. It recedes as fast as knowledge encroaches. There is always the same distance.
ing