Artists do not work, but they are breathing!

Contrary to daily experience this is easier said than done. For breathing of course is not exhausted in biological ventilation

and not in sighs of relief nor in the catching of breath after

work is done and not in respiratory recreation. Not even is it the artistes powerful inhalation before he turns his somersault

in the air while the audience holds the breath in awe.

And neither is it the apnea-divers concentrated hyperventilation before he will drive his volition at the brink of death down into the unconscious depths and obscurities of the waters and, if procurable, back. Not floating with the tide, not being monopolised. Descending. Ascending. Breathing. With a non-exclusive simplicity that in the face of abundance and excellence acts humble and unassuming, regardless of the promises made by the hustle of economic calculations, aspiring no profit and even less desire: just breathing.