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TUK�N LABORAT�RIUM Sectorul Negru Bucuresti

TUK�N LABORAT�RIUM Sectorul Negru Bucuresti

TUK�N LABORAT�RIUM Sectorul Negru Bucuresti

In memoriam Latinovits Zolt�n

I, Csontv�ry Kosztka Tivadar

who renounced his youth in exchange for the world's renewal

at the time I accepted the holy ghost's calling

I already had a decent civil job

confort and abundance.

But I left my country because I needed to leave it

by the single reason to see it thriving and glorious

at the twilight of my days.

To attain my purpose for years I have travelled

Europe, Africa and Asia

searching for the prophesized truth

and practice it's transference into painting.

I refrained from advertising

because I did not care about the kuffar's press.

Instead, I withdrew to the top of Lebanon

where I painted cedars.

Like this, in solitude, quietly

my head covered in autumn I can only ponder

to what end wage this great hatred?

Knowing that into heaven burdened by might and wealth

nobody ever gained admission.

Without a God, I ask -

what is man's purpose on Earth?

Did you get special approval for visiting at night?

Approval?

I have a special approval - assignment - mission -

task - obligation - quest - and it only concerns me.

Maybe you will have company.

Man imagines all kinds of things.

He imagines he's alone or he imagines others are with him.

I imagine that I am myself -

and the things are rising above me.

We imagine every kind of important stuff.

Mister Artist, you are destroying your stomach...

Eat before, alright?

No, I don't want to.

Give me back my shirt.

But... you draped me in it didn't you?

Be kind and turn away...

Here.

What a man am I.

What a man.

They just make me play what already happened.

Mister Artist, don't torment yourself.

You are admired by the whole world.

Last night

you told such wonderful stories about the painter you play...

Artists are exceptional people.

Of course, I will step out of Mister Artist's life.

- Yeah? - Don't be mad at me.

And thanks.

Fuck!

Why do you always need to lead such a conditional life?

My good Lord...

Tell me, donkey - do I love you dearly?

I love you.

I love you dearly.

My greatest joy would be served -

if... if I could do it...

if I had the power... the energy...

and would build up in Hungary the Sanctuary of Geniuses.

Where everybody could experiment at large

in a carefree and informal manner.

Noo no no...

It is not my aim to win appreciation.

It is not my aim to be celebrated, to be discovered!

This is not what is needed.

It's not even about the works I could create.

No!

I...

I am thinking about... those people... individuals...

who...

who are truly chosen!

Who are split apart by the energy of their genius!

And yet, they have problems confronting

their everyday problems, their livelihoods.

And at home and abroad... living in misery...

they fall into depravity!

It is them who we should take care of!

I will establish the Ophelia Sanatorium.

The asylum where people may evade, from the coming healthy world,

to find a place where, finally, they can get sick.

From the world in which health will become contagious

they can escape to that sanatorium where

they can get intimate with the blessings of disease.

Schopenhauers and Nietzsches will be born there

Mohammeds and Napoleons!

And if I smartly dose the alcohol -

Bismark, Kem�ny Zsigmond, Munk�csi, Poe, Musset, Handel

will I heal into this bitterly healthy world.

It is not my aim to win appreciation.

No! It is not my aim to become discovered and celebrated!

It's not even about the works I could create in the future!

No, I am thinking about those, those individuals, who are truly chosen!

Who are split apart by the energy of the genius!

And yet, they can't, they are simply incapable to confront

they daily problems and the woes of their livelihood

and at home and abroad

in poverty... they waste away!

It is them who we should take care of!

Because the next century's culture

must be founded with them, in Hungary!

With them!

Yeah!

Yeah! Yeah!

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

I do not expect the rebirth my motherland to come

from the rich elites...

but from those individuals, possessing brilliant spirit,

each of whom is capable of propelling culture further than a hundred schools.

Yes.

More than the mistake of a hundred schools...

or their foundation...

I understand that extraordinary responsibility lies on me.

That fate proscribed me to a place where...

I find myself neither suitable nor prepared.

It's clear.

Fate has assigned me.

But for what?

For what?

For what?

For what?

Oh, you proud Christians, you foolish mob,

your feeble cocky minds sowing hope in the way of perversion.

Don't you see what is man?

Maggot.

Which will form angelic butterfly

redeeming before judgement without bearing it's shield.

How can your spirit soar high above?

But you are just maggots!

Maybe not even ready for that...

Into butterfly - maybe in the future turning.

Good day.

I can't sleep for days, Sir...

I would like to ask for some kind of a sleeping pill.

Here you are.

Thank you.

Not at all.

To sleep is not necessary.

Genius can be who's time has come.

Who was picked by the hand of fate.

Whose ancestors were endowed

with willpower, spiritual cultivation and artistic talent.

Who came into the world by way of full-blood and love.

Who was in love with his nanny

in love with the sun

in love with the comet.

Who was eager to claim the open air and chased after butterflies.

Who confessed to like the truth and was never bored by himself.

Who puts love in his craft.

Who searches the future with his thoughts.

Who broke up with the present and set sail alongside intuition.

Who every where and occasion used his heart in confrontation.

There is no place I cannot glance

upon the sun or the sentinel stars.

You can ponder upon truths full of sweets

at any point under the sky.

And there is no need for inglorious

even shameful surrender of myself.

After all...

I still have bread.

I didn't draw I didn't paint

I just observed, staring at the monumental beauty of nature

the deep and peaceful rhythm of feeling

the most beautiful nature-music of rapture...

I made trips in all directions

seeking the beauty.

I took delight in the immeasurability of the large-scale perspectives.

Paint me, Mister! Paint me!

Escape with me to the mountain, they can't see us there!

My body is like the Virgin Mary's!

Don't. No. No!

Because they say I am a whore. Because the devil is in me?

I just want a man...

Look, Mister, what a body I have!

Look here! I want a man.

A man!

A man! A man!

A man!

A man...

This is the way of the adulterous woman:

eats, then wipes her mouth and says: - 'I did nothing evil.'

- Arrived, Mister Artist? - Yeah Mr. Harkaly.

- Well, you? - Yeah, me.

After you.

Arrived just now or were you already upstairs?

Just now.

Fantastic.

Where from?

The mountains, from the waterfalls.

I from the baker, fresh bread just arrived.

Smells nice.

Not even love can play forever -

it has to drink from the wine of sorrow and be reborn in a tear.

- Are you tired? - No, I am not tired.

Well, then...

Back to the waterfalls, right?

Let's go.

The clocks...

hiding their dreams in the spine of their skirts

briskly pace along.

So short is our life

a mere few days granted for love...

- Do you like it? - Oh, yes, very nice colours.

Your water is silent quiet your splashes!

Viola, you are praised by every sound!

Oboe, flute, cosmic aula!

But most of all, by me my little mullberry.

Like the wind of May messenger of dawn

streaming with sweet flavor mixed of grass and flower

limp wind which just pounced my forehead.

I feel the feathers fanning

recalling the smell of ambrosia...

And I hear the Word:

Happy is who gained such mercy from the sky

that his heart repells the love for fine flavors

his hunger dedicated only to truth.

Excuse me, I would kindly ask for some salt and pepper.

God, I am so... confused lately.

Come, Annuska!

- Mom? - Yes?

I'm so sorry...

I tried my best.

I even sent him a telegram...

You shouldn't have, dear

why do it he comes anyway!

Comes!

- He surely had to travel abroad. - No.

- Mom is doing everything for his sake. - No, you are gravely mistaken.

My Annuska...

I am doing it for everybody:

because of you... because of my son... and also because of myself.

And of course my gra...

where is my grandson? I haven't seen him all day.

Outside, waiting for his father.

Tell him to come in at once

the soup is on the table.

Hurry up.

- Please come have lunch. - Aren't we waiting for dad?

I don't think he's coming.

You don't have to wait.

Come at once!

Enjoy your meal!

Please serve.

Help me some.

My God!

This is unbelievable!

There is enough for everyone don't sigh.

He came!

Annuska, my dear, he came!

Didn't I tell you?

My son arrived. He is at home.

Isn't it so?

- He came... - Told you so...

Dad, I knew you will come.

- Hi, Dad! - Heya!

- What's up with you? - Mom, come...

Is my dear Mother well? In good health?

Don't be mad at me...

You are skinny, my dear...

Nonsense, you are imagining it...

Hey!

- Happy birthday! - Oh!

Look here!

It's me, in miniature while dreaming!

My sweet mother...

My prodigal son, you!

Good day!

- Hello, my friend! - Welcome!

Better late, than never, right?

Your dad brought it.

Thank you.

Happy birthday! Raise a glass to your health!

Men!

Hey! Men!

- He's tired, poor thing. - Dad sleeps here, right?

- Good day! - Hi!

- Hello! - Hi!

- How are you, old timer? - Well, I am...

adequate for inadequacy.

It would be so nice if you came visit some time.

My husband told me so much about you.

No no no no...

I can't promise right now. We'll see... sometime...

Hi.

Good bye.

- Regards. - Good bye.

- Daddy, you sleep here? - Where?

Sure, sure...

Try it on.

You always liked it.

These embroideries are so beautiful. A little bit beat, but...

maybe that gives it charm.

- Beautiful... - I want you to have it.

No. She wouldn't wear it anyway. And even if she did...

Don't you want me to give it to her?

No?

No.

She'd deserve it, though.

She'd deserve much more even.

- Don't you want it? - No, no.

Rather not.

You've been telling stories to my mother.

She listens to the drivel I dismiss.

Things I do with myself...

and other stuff.

That I don't work...

While you still haven't got a clue...

Thank God....

What do you want from me?

It's your mother's birthday.

Your son is also here, interrogate him!

You have nothing to say to me while this lifetime lasts.

What's wrong, dear?

Annuska is also sad.

Are you tired? You had little sleep.

Don't work up yourself mother I sleep too much, if anything.

Too much?

If I'd see that...

But it's not what I see.

- Why do it in front of your mother? - Do what?

The scene with the velvet waistcoat.

Ah, yes. Although it's simple.

But I'm afraid you won't get it.

I worry about the flowers of innocence, get it?

I don't want them to be scattered into bad soil.

You didn't even notice the flowers.

Your mother must be proud of you.

Where we at?

Almost there.

Stop the car around here.

So pretty you are, birdie.

So good for you.

What more can I get from fate? What kind of experience?

Wandering, and the climbing of a peak.

In the end, we only live ourselves.

Times in which luck could stumble on us are well over.

Nothing can happen to me which would result in something else than myself.

But it will find its way back to me the one hiding like a stranger

among rocks and chances for a long time.

And I know another one: I stand before the last peak.

It had waited on me for a long time.

The hardest road is before me.

The most lonesome wandering.

Furious is the storm

when gets into a wild wrestle with the spoiled air.

Terrible is the hurricane

when it turns over everything standing in it's way.

Cruel is the cyclone

when it's accompaniated by the pile of rubble.

Unpredictable is the meteorite's landing!

Scary is the sway of the earthquake!

There are the tools-aids of the world's creation.

If you walk on water I'm with you.

And the rivers won't crash over you.

If you walk in fire you won't get burned

and flame doesn't scorch you.

Don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid!

I'm with you. I will bring your seed...

From Sunrise -

and from Sunset...

I will gather you into one.

I say to North: grant it! I say to South: don't hold it back!

So you see that man, who's utmost wish, his hope

is to return to his homeland.

In his original state he similar to the insect drawn towards the light.

In a blissful curiosity he awaits the new summer

new month, new year...

But when his desire is fulfilled he feels it's too late.

He doesn't suspect

that he waits with impatience for his very own annihilation.

But to no avail because it's his quintessence

the very gist of the elements that form him

held together by a soul locked in his body.

Wishing back where he was made redundant.

You must know that this longing is the seed

the deepest level of everything.

Nature's helper inside us.

And man is...

the miniature copy of the world.

I have to write a CV, you could help me.

Pardon?

- I have to write a curriculum vitae. - Why?

- Whatever. I have to write it. - Well, write it!

Of course! But what I can write?

- What could I write about myself? - Well, your biography.

Yeah, sure. It's not so easy.

She already left.

At least twenty years since I wrote one, got it?

Twenty years exactly.

If I'd still have it... I'd make a copy.

Just in time to write one. 20 years are 20 years.

I'm an actor.

This means that in the mean time I have no life and no name.

My face and name could change daily.

From day to day.

My biography - a long series of roles.

Yeah.

Yeah!

I WAS an actor.

But I won't play any more roles.

I won't learn any more texts.

Neither cheerful nor sad ones. It's over!

I've already said everything. I can't imagine any more roles.

- What do you want to do? - To live.

To live!

Of course...

Living isn't the most important thing for man.

What then?

What then?!

I will come to your institute. I will live here.

You want that?

Are you so afraid of writing a biography?

- I will help you. - Anna, listen, I will move here.

This garden is so beautiful. And I won't disturb you.

What do you need more? Caretaker or patient?

Rather you move in with your mother!

At least pay her a visit!

She's writing to me asking about you!

My mother...

wrote you...

- Of course, you didn't answer. - But yes, I did.

I answered.

I replied that I didn't see you in a long time.

I don't know where you are, what you do, whom you live with!

Don't get scared, it's not what I wrote.

But that you are well and you work a lot.

And I mentioned... you took up the violin again.

Once again you find joy in the instrument.

You haven't played in such a long time.

But you're fiddling once again.

But it's unenjoyable.

Caress me.

God forgives. That's his job.

Eat!

Dear Flori!

Well?

A little bit more!

We...

lunatics...

still have eyes!

Unfortunately, nature

compensates with animal nature, making our bodies deplorable

oftentimes a serious burden.

But, in fact, it's like this since Giotto

who was a sickly man.

And let's think of Rembrandt -

the toothless laughter of that old lion

how majestic!

His head in bandages and palette in hand...

he laughs.

- Smoking isn't allowed here. - I didn't want.

Magdus!

Turn around! Try to eat a spoonful of soup.

If you have finished eating, you may go for a walk in the garden.

What a biography writer he is!

Eat!

All right, come on, come on!

Who has finished - go outside. Take a nice stroll.

You unlucky one...

Hold on! Hold on!

How should I start... oh yes!

- I'll try. - I haven't played in a while.

I haven't played in the last 15 years.

Even more 30 years.

Lunchtime! Get inside! Everyone!

Get inside!

Get inside!

Come! Get inside!

- Peace be upon you. - Peace.

So aged is the world.

Man is a reasonable being.

Still, he may only create his grand works

if he doesn't count and doesn't ponder

In order to win back his childishness

he must exercise for years the art of forgetting about himself.

Who succeedes in this will be able to think and...

not think, in the same time.

He's like the rain falling from the sky

or waves chasing each other at sea.

Your biggest worry is expropriation.

What do you mean by that?

I just imagine it.

I love you!

I love you! I love you!

Who do you love...

Come here, children, come.

Friends! Brothers!

Come here, all of you! Don't be shy!

Come!

Drop by!

Enter! Come and see!

You are my witnesses -

to find out, understand and believe me when I say

that I am the one.

Before me, God didn't trust creation upon man - and won't ever do it again!

Behold!

This world in which we live in

was created by a great invisible mastermind.

He arranged so that we may find the void filled with stars...

the Sun...

the Moon...

the lark in the field the nightingale hiding in the bush...

the canary on the Canary Islands...

And if we go up onto Lebanon's highest peaks

reaching the home of the 6000 year old cedars...

we may gaze upon

the of 3000 year old maidens bowing in their corollae of patience.

Ornate crowns yielding fruit only in their fourth millennium.

I know the road which I have to follow.

I know intellectual authority.

World creating energy.

Willpower I must account for during my journey.

No doubt, it's familiar.

And I know it for sure

we shall arrive in a better part of the world

and we can delight in it's inexhaustible beauties.

I love you, Haladzsa.

He will return.

He loves you very much.

You just say that because you love him.

Ma'am, what I am saying is the truth. I really feel he loves you.

How... some cannot live without each other...

People need each other.

In life, between two persons, nothing can be so unconditional.

By the way, relax and be informal.

And I will do the same.

You know, from now on, he will be our sole topic of discussion.

He succeeded.

Men!

Men!!!

He must have been a genius, who came from the east and looked upon the west.

Who contemplated the content of the east.

Who saw a difference in the act of observation.

In the east the ideal world...

in the west the material hostility.

Who looked with love upon the happyness of eastern man...

and sensed unhappiness in the west.

Who has seen people loaded with riches among the poor, in the east...

in the west found them separated.

Who saw Man in every man living in the east...

while in the west most men were insatiable interest-calculators.

Who has found a kin of heart and soul in the east...

in the west in place of heart and soul has found the two-by-two.

Who saw the God's mood in beautiful air in the east...

in the west found decay, hiding between smoke and stench.

I had enough of this. I had enough!

To be a cumbersome clown in the land of midgets! No!

Don't! Don't expect anything from me!

No no no no!

I won't be your clown. I had enough!

Fate appointed me! Me! What for, really?!

My wings 'inspiration' and 'willpower'?

No. I am lame, unfit and deformed!

No! I am, and will remain, a kid forever!

What do you want from me? I am a stranger among you!

You call me or you don't, whatever. Nobody needs me.

You won't make... a Csontv�ry out of me.

I don't want the role! Enough!

I won't accept my shame to outlive me.

I'm tired.

Inspiration? Willpower?

I trusted time will come when you'll recognize me

and pain will trades places in us.

It's possible that lately he admitted

he can't create better or more.

He can no longer take the megalomaniacal roads.

That his predictions cannot come true.

There are some who can get somewhere even like this

but there are some who can't...

And if not... well... that's not a problem either.

Before me the world is still spread wide open.

I love You.

Majesty! There is war in the world right now.

Inspiration.

Willpower.

Energy.

These days, there is war in the world.

Now it's winter.

And quiet...

And snow...

And death.

What graces!

You dummy!

My veneration to the petals of the world.