Krenimo od Kafke.

Zapovjedio sam da mi dovedu konja iz staje. Sluga me nije razumio. Pošao sam sâm u staju, osedlao konja i uzjahao ga. U daljini sam čuo zvuk trube, upitao sam ga što to znači. On nije znao ništa i nije čuo ništa. Na dvorišnim vratima zadržao me je i zapitao: „Kamo jaši gospodin?“ „Ja to ne znam“, rekao sam, „samo dalje odavde, samo dalje odavde. Uvijek i uvijek dalje odavde, jedino tako mogu dostići svoj cilj.“ „Ti, dakle, znaš svoj cilj?“ upitao je. „Da“, odgovorih, „pa rekao sam. Dalje odavde – to je moj cilj.“ *

Crtati odlomak Kafkin, na primjer, ili ići sa Kafkom u džepu. Otuđiti se, otići, u svakom smislu udaljiti se krepak od volje i bježati pred košuljicom salivenom iz koje vrat može biti pretil, samo ne prljav, nikako prljav, pobjeći, dakle, mijenjajući pravac, da izvjesna ne ispadne stvar, tekućina lapeća, jer ako iscuri sa lijepim zubima ješćemo krompir podgrijan a cakliće nam se ona guša čista, recimo debela. Dalje, dalje, makar žvakali ništa i rekli isto. Dalje za Kafkom ili Poom ili kojim drugim mrtvim drugom. Dalje radi milih epigona. Dalje bar za dobro odabranim cipelama.

Slike daleke kao Japan i teške kao stvari kojima se mora dati ime, i pune kao oko. Gledati pažljivo, u slike, da se vide djeca koja plutaju mutnom, loptastih trbuha, recimo Savom. Gledati pažljivo - pa ko vidi kako izviru stomaci zanijemiće. Gledati pse u slikama (gledati u oči psa). Gledati pažljivo dok se ne okrene brod, pa dalje i dalje, razbiti se o beton mokar za Bartlbijem idući ili Miškinom ili Edipom carem, samo dalje od ovoga koje je lako i ugodno i podatno šijama svim koje se ljube iskreno kao drugarice u obraz. Dalje od usta.

Guste slike i spore poput sprovoda. Sjemena. Strah i crtanje. Crtati odlomak, nacrtati fragment, napraviti frakciju, recimo crvenu, isto je što i crtati. Crtanje je mogućno rješenje, kadgod i jedino. Manifest! Crtati pažljivo. Crtanje nas lišava besplatnih poziva prema svim mrežama. Ko može nacrtati prijatelja, a odbiti hiljadu megabajta protoka. Ili ko će precrtati prijatelja, a dobiti hiljadu megabajta protoka. Moj drug diže dva prsta kad ja ne znam. Bonjour Monsieur, pristupamo na brod, fini francuski, da se krećemo Senom, nas dvije stotine, a hostetsa nam pokazuje zubiće.

Gledati pažljivo, u slike, dok se ne ratosiljamo čina (poput Prospera), a ako ne može tako, dalje i od slika, dalje i od slikanja. Dolazi Sonderkommando, brzo se poredajmo.

Muk.

Nenad Malešević

Franc Kafka. - Polazak. Pripovijetke, knjiga II, Zagreb, Zora-GZH, 1977.

(Preveo Zlatko Matetić)

GUSTINA

Mio

drag

Man

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RS 2

7.10-

9.12

.201

6.m

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*

Let’s start with Kafka.

I ordered my horse to be brought from the stables. The servant did not understand my orders. So I went to the stables myself, saddled my horse, and mounted. In the distance I heard the sound of a trumpet, and I asked the servant what it meant. He knew nothing and had heard nothing. At the gate he stopped me and asked:

„Where is the master going?“ „I don’t know,“ I said, „just out of here, just out of here. Out of here, nothing else, it’s the only way I can reach my goal.“ „So you know your goal?“ he asked. „Yes,“ I replied, „I’ve just told you. Out of here – that’s my goal.“ *

To make a drawing of a text by Kafka, for instance, or to move around with Kafka in one’s pocket. To estrange oneself, to leave, to distance oneself in every sense, made hale and hearty by willpower; to keep clear of shirts fitting like gloves and making one’s neck protrude looking beefy, possibly, but not dirty – never dirty, by any means; to run away, now, while changing direction in order to stop a certain thing coming out, evaporising liquid, because if it leaks, we’ll have to chew on warmed-up potatoes with our pretty teeth, with that clean neck of ours, shall we call it fat, glistening. Away, away, even if we get to eat nothing and say as much. Away, in the footsteps of Kafka or Poe or any other dead fellow. Away, for the sake of darling epigones. Away, at least in the footsteps of shoes chosen well.

Images as distant as Japan, and difficult, like things bidding being named, and as full as a pea-pod. To observe pictures, closely, to see children, with potbellies, floating on the muddy waters of, say, the Sava River. To look closely – so whoever may see stomachs surfacing goes numb. To look at dogs in

pictures (look a dog in the eye). To observe closely until a piece of lumber turns a tummy, then on and on, to crash into concrete while walking, wet, after Bartleby or Myshkin or Edipus Rex, only to get away from this – easy and cosy and yielding to all those characters giving one another kisses, sincerely, like girlfriends, on the cheek. Away from the mouth.

Images dense with detail, and slow, like funerals. Seeds. Fear and drawing. To draw a text, to finish drawing a fragment, to make a faction, say, red, that is the same as drawing. Drawing is a possible solution; at times, it is the only solution. A manifesto! To draw carefully. Drawing deprives us of free calls to all networks. Who can draw a friend, but turn down a thousand megabytes of data. Or, who will cross out a friend, and get a thousand megabytes of data. My friend raises his hand when I don’t know the answer. Bonjour Monsieur, we board the boat, it’s a fine one, French, to sail on the Seine, two hundred of us, as the hostess keeps showing her little teeth.

To look closely, at images, until we are free of ranks (like Prospero), and if that doesn’t work, then away from pictures, away from painting too. Here comes the Sonderkommando, form a rank, quickly.

A hushing roar, that’s what he is.

Nenad Malešević

Franz Kafka, The Departure, The Complete Stories,

Schocken Books, 1971 (Translated by Tania and James Stern)

DENSITY

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RS 2

7/10

-9/1

2/20

16m

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TO

*