Prey
In Fall 1994, I traveled through Africa as a
guest of the U.S. Embassies, using my art and my voice to try to "change the
world." I had just turned 30 and had a lot to learn about myself, my life and
my world-- indisputably, the world changed me. I returned to America transformed by
the experience.
One of the things I obsessed about during and
after my trip was the absolute futility of being a wildebeest. It seemed as if this
ugly beast's only life purpose was to be mauled by lions.
Nonetheless, the wildebeest would lull himself
into a false sense of security. Sure, it had all the genetically evolved, socially
engineered moves down to try to evade lions, but his best coping mechanism seemed to be to
immerse himself in denial. His life focus was to graze and find the next watering
hole. However, there was only one certainty for the wildebeest: sooner
or later, as a young calf or as it weakened and aged, this animal was going to suffer a
savage death in the jaws of a carnivore.
That has been the way of life long before my
tourist safari invaded their Serengeti plains. Although that remains a constant, the
world has changed a lot since then. Indeed, it's changed a lot since 9-11.
More and more, I feel like we are all living
the life of wildebeests: Heightened terrorism threats induce us to do something as
silly as using duct tape to seal our windows in plastic. That ordered response from
some-- an utter sense of denial from others-- might do much to reduce mass
hysteria. Indeed, it may be the only thing to get us to our next watering
hole.
-- Xavier Cortada
February 15, 2003
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