Collectible Dry - N8 - 2018

Once upon a time things were much simpler. I stood here, you stood there, something else stood in the middle, but it was always graspable, contextualized, worthy of opinion. I stood against the war, against hunger, against imperialism, against injustice, against dictators, false prophets, ideologies, religions, conformism. I fought for workers’ rights, to make my body my own, and I’m in charge of it, democracy, freedom of expression… There, that last one: having the freedom to express oneself. Thinking identified strong issues, created slogans (statements?), and then we took to the streets to prove we were alive, because we had ideas. We felt strong, because we were united. Strong, because through imagination we rose to power and ultimately empowered imagination in turn. The year was 1968 and the entire world was swelling with hope, with a desire to change. People wanted radical change; they wanted to overturn all the certainties that had created a foundation for the bourgeoisie before them. The massive economic growth that followed on the heels of World War Two and the subsequent peace (at least in the West) created certainty. Young people, both bourgeoisie and blue collar, longed for something more. Work and education were no longer enough. People wanted to be free, to fight for rights, even those of the weakest among us, and along with them affirm their own individuality, their own intrinsic value.

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