Description of the Manifestation:

Krzysztofory Gallery. Chairs arranged around the table create an empty, oval space in the center of the large room. Two black tables stand there. On one are vodka glasses and a bottle of vodka; on the other, cognac glasses and a bottle of cognac. Between the tables stands a blue cube with a stone placed on top. The tables hold mugs of red paint, and on the cube stands a mug of white paint.

The artist squeezes through the narrow doorway between the chairs. He is naked, holding a thick rope. The other end of the rope forms a noose around his neck. He steps forward, turns to the audience, and says: ​​Ladies and gentlemen, first of all I would like to say that I have never done happenings or performances. My actions were simply actions, or rather, I called them manifestations. This is not about the synchronization of actions in a theatrical sense, nor about provocation toward the audience, as was the case with happenings, but about a message I want to articulate in such situations. This is not easy for me, because it involves an accumulation of problems I need to communicate. Nevertheless, it is divided into two languages: the language of words and the language of action, because I cannot seem to express this message in a single language. That is the first point. The second is that today’s action, although it may appear to be a heated dispute with Tadeusz Kantor, will also be a kind of tribute to him. And the third point, something I always ask of you, ladies and gentlemen, please do not intervene physically during the action.

The artist removes the noose from his neck and places it on the box next to the stone. The rope falls to the floor. He walks to one of the tables, takes the bottle, and pours vodka into a glass. Then, using the red paint, he paints a stripe on his back. He goes to the other table, pours cognac, and paints a second stripe on his back. He stops at the blue pedestal and coils the end of the rope into a ball. Then he paints a white letter T on his chest.

He repeats this sequence of actions, circling between the tables, until the vodka and cognac have been poured into the glasses, his back is covered in red stripes, the rope is coiled into a large ball, and the words TEATR ŻYCIA (THEATRE OF LIFE) are written on his chest.

He then paints a white, and then a red, stripe on his penis and addresses the audience: Ladies and gentlemen, Marcel Duchamp once said that he would throw a bottle and they would make a work of art out of it. And at that moment, he essentially ceased to be responsible – he escaped responsibility for what he was doing. And I believe that this is one of the greatest distortions in art, one that later prevailed precisely because of the example set by this great artist. Therefore, today I smash this bottle.
Holding an empty vodka bottle, he approaches the pedestal, picks up the stone, and shatters the bottle with a powerful blow.

He says: That was about Polish Duchampists. But I’ll also do the same for Duchampists around the world. In a similar manner, he smashes the cognac bottle. He throws the stone on the floor. He picks up the ball of rope and, addressing the audience, says: But this was the level of fetishism in the object, initiated by Marcel Duchamp. Somewhere around the middle of the 20th century, something different happened. A level emerged in which the human person was thrown, like a bottle. Here, I can cite Gilbert and George as an example. They made themselves into such a bottle. They allowed themselves – indeed, they wished – to function as objects. Faced with this situation, critics and art theorists, overwhelmed by the flood of objects and such self-proclaimed idols, declared the death of art. Fortunately, there were artists who said NO. And of course, they also threw themselves into this scale, but not as objects. They became entangled in a knot – at this point, the author steps onto the pedestal – a knot that arises when the human person is both object and subject. They simply retain this subjective factor, that is, they do not renounce responsibility for what they do. Because this is, in my opinion, one of the greatest mysteries of both art and life: that we are sometimes entangled… that we are constantly caught in this tension between object and subject, and there is no honest way to escape this paradox. Those who, through some kind of game, tried to escape it, fell into that insane dance of fetishism – on both the objective and subjective levels. We are talking here about self-proclaimed idols, of which the 20th century had no shortage.

Today, this drama concerns not so much artists as politicians, who have become idols. For example, in Poland, they wanted to idolize Lech Wałęsa, but he refused and carries this knot of responsibility. It may look funny at times, but he carries it. It looks something like this. The artist, standing naked on the pedestal, freezes for a moment with his arm raised, holding the ball of rope. After a moment, he continues: They actually wanted to make an idol out of Tadeusz Mazowiecki as well. He seemed less suited for the role. He looked with great concern at this very paradoxical knot he held in his hand, this knot of responsibility. The author holds the ball of rope in his outstretched hands and looks at it intently. Then, briefly tossing the bundle from hand to hand, he says: Today, perhaps one could cite Balcerowicz, who tosses this knot so skillfully. But there comes a moment when the knot slips from one’s hand – the author lets it fall loosely to the floor – and then comes the time when critics, theorists, should deal with it; those who should discover what is subjective and enduring.

But unfortunately, critics, after declaring that art has died, are now completely lost. For example, in Poland they either get bogged down in petty deals- provincial schemes among friends – or, out of snobbery, they can find a straw in New York but will not notice a beam at home. And so much for these general complaints. However, above all, thinking about Tadeusz Kantor’s work, I would like to say that I have not yet encountered an honest critical text about Tadeusz Kantor or his work. Because I believe that Kantor’s work does not fit into this realm of media fetish, but it is… because ultimately, what Kantor did is not theater and was not theater. It was something more. It is an original, unique oeuvre and, most importantly, it belongs to a supra-media zone – one in which the subjective factor is preserved. I say this because, in my opinion, this work is in danger, due to the fact that there will be many imitators and also – I warn you – continuators, because this work is unique. At this point, the author steps down from the pedestal. He says: I would like to hear your views on this matter. I invite any discussion, and I invite you to a drink. Please, go ahead. After a moment, he concludes: This is what I would like to do, in conclusion, for Tadeusz Kantor. He places the ball of rope on the blue pedestal, paints one foot with red paint, and leaves a mark next to the stone. Then he paints the other foot white and leaves a white mark next to the red one. Next to them, he writes the date in white paint and signs it. He says: As a tribute to Tadeusz Kantor.