Everyone knows the experiment with the frog thrown into boiling water. The immediate reaction: it will try to save itself. If it were placed in cold water that is gradually heated, it would be boiled alive (it would not perceive the danger and therefore would not save itself).
It seems that, in reality, the experimental results regarding frogs were different. When it comes to humans, however—metaphorically speaking—the experiment is not a myth. Dictatorships do not emerge out of nowhere, overnight. Neither do wars or financial crises. Bad change needs to be gradual in order to be accepted. The “boiling frog syndrome” is a term used to describe the failure to act against a problem that increases slowly until it reaches fatal dimensions.
Some time ago, I came across this quote:
“Nothing in life is to be feared; it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.” — Marie Curie.
It sounds good, doesn’t it?
Knowing ourselves—as individuals and as a society, collectively—is important. It’s good to understand how we think and how we behave in good times and, especially, in bad ones. We need to know what—and whom—we can rely on in the worst-case scenario, whatever that may be.
How well do we really know our relatives, friends, neighbours, colleagues? Or ourselves, for that matter. To begin with, I think everyone should ask themselves difficult questions, such as: which rights and freedoms would I be willing to give up? Hypothetically speaking, of course—now, while the water is still lukewarm. In the worst case, in a future that is more or less global, apocalyptic, Orwellian.
Would you accept giving up freedom of the press, freedom of expression? Could you stop saying what you want, when you want, for fear of being arrested?
Could you give up freedom of movement? Are you willing to accept not being allowed to travel when and where you want—across borders, or even between cities or villages?
Would you give up privacy—to be electronically/digitally surveilled by the state under any pretext, legitimate or not? Would you accept your neighbours being arrested overnight? Or your colleagues? Which relatives would you be willing to “give up” if an authority demanded that you report them? Your husband/wife? Your in-laws? The uncle you don’t like? Or the cousin you haven’t seen since the last funeral?
Which possessions would you be willing to give up in the event of a financial crisis: coffee, soap, toilet paper, your personal car, or your home? Again, hypothetically speaking.
In an Orwellian future, who do you think might torture you? A former schoolmate, or someone you last saw at church?
Art is a good way to ask difficult questions and to demand answers—good or wrong ones. To juggle all kinds of uncomfortable, unsettling scenarios that you don’t want to think about on a daily basis. After all, why would we? Personal life is hard enough without constantly dwelling on possible collective traumas, past or future.
Several artists from Romania, from different cities, generations, and artistic backgrounds, will engage—through their works—with these apocalyptic scenarios, which are far from unfamiliar to Eastern European history. They will present exercises of imagination, more or less personal and relevant responses related to self-knowledge in extreme situations. Their works (installations, mixed media) are about the “boiling frog syndrome.” Essentially, they are about life—about looking contemporary society’s problems straight in the eye and calling them by their names. It can be a warning sign about the slow erosion of liberties.
Why see such an exhibition? The answer is predictable: to get to know yourself better, and those around you, by looking at works of art. Works made by artists who were born and formed a few thousand kilometres away, yet who share the same universal values and needs as people in Slovakia—or anywhere else.
Alina Andrei is a multidisciplinary artist born in Brașov and based in Cluj-Napoca (Romania), who has been active in the field of visual arts for many years. Her practice explores the relationship between intimacy and public space, bringing fragments of reality into dialogue with fiction and memory. Her works often take the form of installations, artist’s publications, limited-edition objects, or interventions that question social, political, and cultural conventions. Sometimes, when she is not photographing real people, she uses cement, paper cut-outs, and ready-made toys in her work. Through a personal approach, Alina Andrei offers a critical and sensitive perspective on the world we live in. For the past nine years, she has also curated exhibitions at White Cuib in Cluj-Napoca.