A visual poem on borders and freedom.
A coloured box says to me: ‘Make Your own puppet’; inside I find a few ad hoc tiny fragments ready to flock together and give life to the smiling face of a lion. I wonder if the lion-faced puppet may honestly be defined ‘Mine’, or if perhaps my action has not been simplified and reduced – by the game itself – to a mechanical assembly of parts, which are predestined to become a lion.
Probably what the toy has underestimated – whatever may be the age of the target – is the creative power that each of us possesses; a control that is unchained by the conscious gathering of energy that explodes in the firm and dreamy gesture of making. If the aim of the game is to create a puppet, some trimmed forms will not tell us what to build, it would rather be our desire for discovery that will lead us towards the exploration of segments of knowledge. Those portions of cognition will become learning stones only if action will be able to overcome doubts and fears. Creating is not the simple combining of scattered bits to make objects conceived by others; creating means to transfer a thought to a fact.
The puppet will have a face that I define by shaping it, does not matter if it will be a lion or a sheep, my freedom of making will sign its uniqueness.
Postman _ El Lissitzky Troublemaker_ El Lissitzky
Old Man_ El Lissitzky New Man_ El Lissitzky