The (F)Art

One listens to Coltrane playing live My Favourite Things in Belgium and that’s exactly what one wants. I can’t picture JC’s Quartet doing this in a conscious way. The execution happened as something else could have happened. The highest level of art is done with the left hand. There isn't a program. It’s just the air the comes and goes, the randomness of the fly. The cake is obtained when one plays by instinct. To reach the summit you must understand this is a useless game. The second you give yourself and atom of seriousness it all turns to shit. There is a Wizard of Oz on the next room looking at you through a police interrogation mirrored window