Resign

Today Steve Jobs resigned from being CEO at Apple.

The shares of the company dropped, as Walt Disney's - where he is a shareholder as well.

The questions are the following:

How can a company maintain its efficiency when a charismatic leader drops out?

Can a charismatic leader create an operating system for it's company that can serve without him?

Can a creative person use his creativity to find a system which sustains it's creativity without being inseparably bounded to special individuals special creativity?

How much we value the personalities own qualties?

Collegium Utopia

Miss

„If not to you,

To whom should I show
This plum blossom here?”

Zeami was a noh actor. He wrote these lines after his son's death.

The Danube

Twenty-seventh note

My parents had a guest tonight, and I also visited them, so I met him. He was very sympathic but his face looked very sad. He looked tired, and it seemed it is difficult for him to maintain his polite attention to his company. After a few minutes I had the idea that his wife probably died. And a few minutes later it turned out from the discussion that my intuition was right.

The work of the receiver

In the art school, where I study drawing there is a very special model. She is special because she differs from the most of the people in basic things, which are usually common for others. For example I saw her once coming to school in pair of sandals; it was wintertime, big snow covered the streets. Some say she is schizophrenic.

Once Noémi, our teacher asked her about her week-end. She said, she was working on the week-end in the Palace of Arts (a big cultural center, which holds a concert-hall in it). Noémi asked wonderingly what did she do. She said she was working with Fischer Iván (a well-known Hungarian conductor). He was playing, and she was helping him.

Noémi laughed, she said she never heard more beatiful sentence about reception.

Today I encountered a poor man on the bus. I dont know, if he was homeless, or just very poor. He had serious difficulties with speaking, probably his larynx was sick, maybe it was operated because of cancer. He wanted something, and he turned to people around him repeating one series of burble voices. Some looked at him for a while, than turned away. It was so visible in this situation, that the person who is listening should put energy in understanding, it was obvious that it would have been necessary by the listener make an effort for the succes of communication. All listeneres failed today. Gave up, haven't even really tried.

A homeless looking person appeared on the funeral of my grandfather. I was shocked, what is this man doing on the ceremony. He walked in the hall where the catalfalque stood with sticks. He was loud, when everyone was silent. He looked scruffy.

Later I got to know, that he is a priest; and he lived in the same elderly persons rest home as my grandparents did; he was a friend of my grandfather in his last year. My father drove him home afterwards, and in the car we got to know, we have common interest - I just started to study in the art school in those times, and he was an artist. Sometimes he crossed the town with his sticks using the public transportation vehicles; buses, trams and metro to get to the zoo to draw animals. He was dull of hearing, I needed to talk in his left ear. We became friends. Later I visited him in the village where he used to be a parish priest before he retired and moved to the rest home. It was january, and there was no heating in the parish, exept for one electric heater in the main room, where we slept. The foods in kitchen and water in the toilet were frozen. We ate frozen aspic, which contained almost only fat and cartilages, I barely stopped throwing up from the taste. I was helping him sorting out his stuff, since he was eliminating the parish. He gave me 2 or 3 boxes of books and plenty of paints, brushes, crayons and papers. I had fever after coming home. Before his death, he gave me many of his drawings. They are not in good condition. I should do something with them.

Instruments on willow trees

I just found a beatiful picture in a psalm:

"By the rivers of Babylon--
there we sat down and there we wept
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
we hung up our harps.

For there our captors
asked us for songs,
and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying,
"Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"

How could we sing the Lord's song
in a foreign land?"

Hanging the instruments on the trees, that's so individually expressing image of sadness, homesickness and resistance all togheter. The end of the psalm is shockingly cruel. It is number 137.

From my window

The Bell Jar

The voice of the girl, who tells the story, caught me. The strong personality of the main character in Sylvia Plath's novel, I would even say a little aggressive attitude combined with deep sensitivity is so simply natural, it creates the strange feeling that she lets me very close to herself, but stays in a great distance, which cannot be dissolved under any circumstances.

"When I am week, Then I am strong."

I was full of pity when she was escorted to the electroshock room, and it was a suprise, when she started to be more balanced after getting a series of regural electric therapies. I wouldn't say a happy suprise; more a silent release caused by seeing her release, which emerges from accepting the situation, she got into, and especially accepting herself in this situation. Her battle with the world around does not vanish, but it melts into the running of normal affairs.

Twenty-sixth note

I have heard many interpretations of Hamlet. Often they try to understand the characteristics of the Danish prince, why is he postponing to take revenge throughout the whole story, till the end, when he is already attacked by the king himself. They say, Hamlet is a hesitant person, he can hardly make decisions. The story goes forward, because we are curious if he will kill, and if yes, how he will kill Claudius. But he is slow to do the act, he almost does not get to do it. One says, he is melancholic, another says he is rather a philosophical type than a man of actions.
I don't know, if that is so.
But I know, it is not easy to kill someone. And I wonder why noone speaks about this.
If I would think, I have the duty, that I have to kill someone, I would suffer from this. It would be very hard.
I think Hamlet is a story about a person, who got a command, that he has to kill someone. Whereever this command comes from (the origin can be even in himself), he tries to face with it. The play tells the story, how he struggles with his duty. How he thinks over and over, and how he tries to bring himself to do it.
When I have to kill someone with my own hands, when I have to be present at the death of the person, who I murder, that is like killing myself aswell. We are created to be emphatic, and when someone dies in my presence, I experience death aswell, I project his death on myself, and I have to face, how it would be, if I had to die. I have to kill something in me, in order to be able to murder someone else. That's why in modern times armies fight with weapons, which kill the enemy in a long distance, far away from the murders. So they do not have to experience the death of their victims.
Of course, one could say: but he kills Polonius without any hesitation, and it seems this act does not turn him down.
But Hamlet kills Polonius by accident, and that is very important. And I think this is an important epsiode in the story, which can help the actor, to understand and to show, that there is a serious battle going on in himself, about committing a murder. There are two processes going on from this point in the story in him at the same time. These prosseses are reverse of each other. In one the protagonist is trying to face a murder what he has to do, before he does it, in the other he has to face and deal with it, after the act.
And we should not forget, that Polonius is behind a curtain, when Hamlet stabs him to death. He can not see his victim, and he thinks it is the king. To kill the king without seeing him, would be similar, how modern soldiers murder - without being a witness of their act. And that would solve his problem. Of course he can not kill the king, by accident. But he has to deal with the experience murdering someone, while he still tries to accept his role as a murder.

Extracts from a letter - three

When I was following the rehearsals in the town of Saint George, I learnt a new instruction, which I never heard before. It wasn't a seldom case, when an actor heard the director asking him to play his partner. You are not playing yourself, your are acting him. Sounded the instruction.
What does this mean, I asked myself, how does this make sense, what is the meaning if an actor starts to act something, which is not based on his own character, but on one different. And after hearing several times, I asked the director himself, what he meant by this.
It was a cigarette break, we were standing out on the cold and dirty corridor, it was under construction in fact, they repainted it for the premier. This play was performed in a small studio of theatre, which was based in a grey office-block, a department of the state health-care company. People, who came to take out or prolong their insurance were queuing up at the other end of the corridor, separated from us with a glass-door. They used a different entrance, but it happened, that clients due to some misconception entered on the gate of the theatre studio, and asked about health-care. After I asked my question, a middle-age lady entered from the street, a few steps above us. She looked upon us, and stoped at the top of the staircase. Excuse me sir, Administratia Asigurărilor? Althaught we didn't look at all as any administration office, people are prepared for unusual circumstances in this country. She didn't know, if she had entered to the high estimated office, or somewhere else, something unknown, who knows where, so she was as modest and polite, as possible. She was in need for something, so she had humilate herself.
The director showed her the way. She contatly descended on the stairs, and passed through us with eyes falled down.
You see, she was not acting herself, she was acting us. She didn't know who we were, and what she could expect from us, she went under us, she acted us. The man, who is the care-taker of the building, who came before the rehearsal, because I asked him to fix the circulation of the heating, as we were freezing in the past days, he was also acting us. He went above us, as he considers us as intruders in the health insurance's building.
Acting the other person, oh, that's a wise discovery. How rare is a man, who never plays others, but remains himself under any circumstances. How big is the tempation to act the one, who you face with, either beacuse you have more power, than he does, or exactly because you have less. There's a potency, which drives you to go above, to go under.
Just to fulfil the expactions, to follow the track, which is marked.
When one shows the sign of being above you, your path is marked, and the opposite works aswell, when you see people giving you the higher position, it is not simple to stay on the same level, your own level, a human being, equal to any other.

I dreamed

I came home from somewhere, my mother was pregnant, and my parents had built a new ell to their house, and they moved there. There were two storeys, and there were two rooms, above each other, where the floor was slanting. I asked, why did they bulit a slanting floor, and they told me it's beacuse the master builder. He was a friend of ours, living in our neighbourhood, some streets away. The answer meant, that he either was lazy to dig out the fondament, so he placed the floor on the splanting ground, or that he thought, this is the best solution for our new house.
It seemed, that my parents already accepted the case. We were busy taking care of my mother, who was very close to give birth. There was only one day left till the day, what was appointed by the doctor. Her stomach was huge, and we were afraid to touch it, for fear of that it would start the process of birthgiving. She went to bed, and I knew, it's the last night before she will be taken to the hospital, to give birth.

Extracts from a letter - two

"Lord! we know what we are, but know not what we may be."

When Hamlet meets his mother, he is very distant with her. The queen even asks him: "Have you forgot me?" Hamlet encounters a woman in the queen, who is very different from the image, of what he had about his mother in the past.
A mother is one, who brought us up, and who we are mostly very strongly related to, she is a fundamental role-model in our lives. All what we consider as our own principles about how to behave, are some way derived from our parent's example, either because we have accepted their rules and oppignions or because we are fighting against them, and we counter with them.
When a mother contradicts the principles, what she handed over to us, a threat appears on the horizon of our ideology. I chose to live my life this certain way, and the person, who I based my knowledge on, abandons the values, what she have thaught to me.
Hamlet does not want to accept a new mother. He wants to show her, what she was before, he wants to confront her with herself in the past.

"You go not, till I set you up a glass where you may see the inmost part of you."

This glass, this mirror is Hamlet himself. He wants to play the role of the queen in past to make it possible for her to meet herself.
He has the white hope, that all those principles, which Gertrude once beleived in, and which were once confessed loud by her, have the possibility to change her back.

He thinks, that the queen long-time ago, wouldn't accept the present queen. He has the responsibility to confront these two persons, for he is the only one, who carries the queen's once lived personality.

To meet a person who is very close to you, who is so close , that is actually you yourself, and who does not accept you - is painful. Hamlet thinks he has a reason to cause this pain.
Gertrude cries for help.

Extracts from a letter - one

We are strongly rooted in our biological origins. We used to live in tribes, and there existed a competition of proportions of organ sizes, a competion of power. The male who had bigger muscles, was the stronger, and was the one who could fuck the female. But he didn't only get the access to sexaul acts, but with his power he became the leader of the tribe, he got the possibility to obtain fair enough nutriment, and to enjoy the security of self-defense from enemies either by escaping fast enough, or by defeating the other with power surplus. Power and sizes were the only existing values in fact.
Today we consider ourselves more wise, to know power is not all, moreover is not the only quality which one can charm a woman with. But the fundamental competion remained among our relationships, as proof of our values. And thank to our roots; one who is questioned in his sexuality is questioned in his whole identity.
This is what everybody knows, this is why all the junk mails, the spams, which I receive each day, are trying to get at me at my most vulnerable point, my sexual achievement. This is why they offer solution to all the possible problems, which I might have. I could enhance my performance, if I would have early ejaculation, if I would get off earlier, than the woman does, I'm with; I could make my penis become longer, if I wouldn't fulfil my partner with the lenght of my sexual organ, if she would have a lack of sexual plesure in the depths of her vagina, or she wouldn't be satisfied with the visual appereance of my sexual tool; and I could get help with making my penis standing firm and stiff, full of blood coming into it, if I would have problems with erecting it in intimate moments. All messages I receive from my unknown well-wishers are trying to help me in being able to fulfil better and better my partner's desires. Would I enjoy sex, if I would have a longer dick? No, she is the one, who might achieve higher plesure. Do I not get fulfiled, when I reach orgasm earlier, than my partner? No, I've gone all the way, she is the one who has a lack of fulfilment. What all these messages imply, is that I am the one, who gains through becoming better in giving plesure, that I am better person, if I cause higher plesure to my partner. The idea is of course not the invention of the authors of the messages, it is my biological definiteness what they are building upon.

I dreamed

I am coming home from Romania, I was at the train station in Cluj Napoca, which was a long - long line of continuous platforms, some stairs, pedestrian bridges, and ticket offices; all very rusty and grey. I was with some people, friends, I don't remember exactly who. They stayed at the other end of this long unforeseeable platform-series, I went to buy tickets maybe for our trip. We were heading to Hungary, the strange thing, I don't remember, I was thinking about this trip as a return. I had some kind of feeling, that I know all, what is around me, I am familiar with it. I heard some Romanian talking in the speakers, and than a lady started to inform in Hungarian about the train to Hungary. She didn't just speak Hungarian, but she spoke about all the towns and lands in Romania which the train was going through using their Hungarian names, and mentioning the historical background of them, how some Hungarians talk about it, among each other. It was a feeling, that not just the language had change, but also the information, which is given on different languages. Since it's a sensitive issue in the relation of the two countries, and the official Romanian oppignion is different than the Hungarian one, I was wondering, why is she doing this, how does she dare to provoke, what can be her reason, and how is it possible, that she is allowed to talk like this in the speakers of the train station.
Even thaugh it was in Hungarian.
As if it would be only understood by Hungarians. I was suprised.
But I also got to know from her speech, that I won't have time to get back to my platform till the train will start off.

Twenty-fifth note

Yesterday an evening in theatre on my own, in the studio of Katona József Theatre. I did not wish to have any company. But what am I saying, of course I had many compagnions, we were sitting shoulder to shoulder packed up in a small place, and I even met some people I know, some actresses from Transylvania, who I had seen in a performance directed by a friend, Pali, a girl, who I have been playing togheter with in a scene this June, on the street in a festival. Moreover I was sitting by an actor from the ex Chalk Circle Company, even he does not know me.
I have seen an estimated performance, which I wanted to see since a long time. It had its premier more than 3 years ago. It is based upon Franz Kafka's novel: The Trial. They chose a different title: Ledarálnakeltűntem - which is one sentence written in one word, the translation would be: IamrettledoffIhavedisapperead.
A theatre of nonsense, scenes and actions come after each other without any kind of logical reasons for the first sight. Anything can happen, after anything. To use this theatre language in adapting Kafka, is an amazing discovery.
The space is genial, when the performance starts, you see it's a narrow and long corridor, what you are sitting in, and after a few minutes they open a door at the back, and than you discover it is an extremly long corridor, and the end is far-far away from you. In the intermission, we had to go through this space and we could realize they even opened the back door and used the foyer of the theatre. And there is a mirror at the end, so it can even look neverending. Like the process of the trial, in Kafka's novel.
The actors often do hard work with their bodies and their concetration, extrem jumps, falls, dances, acrobatics, text-improvisation.
But after a while, I got bored, and i had the feeling the same effect is repeated and repeated. The creators selected out very few phenomens, and put them into definite theatrical effects, and used them several times. Many many times, it finally became a 2,5 hours performance. I had the feeling, I expect something more complex view upon the world from a theatre-piece.

Twenty-fourth note

Two headlines from Hungarian newspaper articles, published since the end of our workshop:

A certificate merite was awarded to the film of Csaba Bollók: Iska's Journey on the Freistad Filmfestival in Austria for the courage of the film in impacting with the stubborn facts, and for the acting accomplishment of Mária Varga playing the main role. (1st of September)

Hungary will be represented by Csaba Bollók's movie in the Oscar nominating process of best foreign language films. (5th of September)

"How beauteous!"

Hay Portrait

Orderliness

My mother is tiding up her room, sorting out things, and trying to make some kind of order among the rest. She has found a tiny plastic cup in her nightstand containing a tick, which was in my head in 1989. (At that time we used to be in the States.)