Cultural crisis by Martin Cid
Dedicated to J.G.
Some days ago I wrote an article about the future of books –or something similar, I’m not an organized person and I mix several topics into the same story and, in the end, I don’t know where I’ve begun, sorry-. I come now from outside, I had to go out for a walk because I’m a little sad and I would like to explain why. Yes, you know that we are in Spain and the situation it’s not very easy but… there’s no secret we are going to leave this country in the next months and it’s not a problem about money or work. I can write in every place I go, there is not problem if I am in Madrid, in London or in the most expensive skyscraper in Manhattan. I just need a computer, some ideas and several barrels of whiskey to do my job.
And why am I sad then? I have a good wife and my dog is fine. I had a dream years ago: to be published. I got it and I did it and I have four or five –I cannot remember- books published and I haven’t paid a cent for it. Sometimes, even people write to me congratulating for my books… but, like Cristiano Ronaldo, I’m sad. Last year I have a thrombosis, that’s true but… I’m fine now and the doctors said that it won’t have any consequence. My lungs are perfect –it’s absolutely true, they have checked it-… I’m quite young and I can still drink how much I want… but I want to leave this country and there’s nothing that can change my mind in this theme. Why?
When we began the magazine, we did it for entertainment and to promote the books we write. We did it both in Spanish and in English and, someday, we went to a bar. There, for a casual and magic coincidence, there were many of the Spanish authors we have been publishing during two years. I said hello to some of them and they looked down on the magazine. They just wanted a free drink because all of those authors just want to use our magazine to promote their careers. Of course it’s usual to do this and I can understand it but when we created the magazine we wanted not only to promote our books, we want to create something special to people who love arts and literature, people with dreams and people with things to write and to tell… and there weren’t any of those kind of people there but a nasty smell to cultural crisis.
In these years, I’ve talked with editors, literary agents and owners of art galleries and painters and poets and… I’ve discovered the great reality that they aren’t there to create art because they don’t love art or literature and they just want to be there to gain a mediocre pair of euros. I think there’s a deeper crisis in this society and, just maybe, the economic crisis is just a consequence from this deeper cultural crisis and moral falling. That day in that bar I discovered that all the things that we believed have gone for them. That night I and Isabel were alone in a jungle of envy and despite.
We closed the magazine that month.
But now, things have changed because we are talking with different people in different countries. We’ve found marvelous people like the woman whom this article is dedicated (J.G. is Jenean Gilstrap). They are reading us every day and the foreign artists we are now publishing recognize the effort of doing a magazine day by day. I would like to say thank you all and, of course, thanks to Jenean to read, contribute, comment and, with us, try to create something different, special, Dadaists, literary or, maybe and simply, something beautiful.
I understand now: I have many reasons to be happy.
Thanks to you.