Our Scribe

To justify the present, not so much by that which it will become, though rather that which we predict it has been, is an underlying theme in Klaus Eichler’s irony. Though “Long Wei’s” (Klaus Eichler’s pseudonym, with, some close to him, using a shorter “Q”) paintings, and pentameters are symmetric, he places, in both, history on trial. In these senses it is our collective conscience, the most difficult to reduce, which is interpreted. It is the history, one we are dictated, though still must confess. Our actions do not, indeed, absolve a society, as precedent has them, at least for some, long-standing, perhaps dictatorial, individuals.
Klaus attempts, at his most ambitious, to define time and it is not without an ironic tongue in cheek that he realizes, much as Gilbran before him, that temporal metrics, as well as symbols, are meaningless. In this sense, we can look at the collection of “tableaux” less as a mathematical proof, à la Russell, but rather the single page dissertation of Dirac. The latter’s delta function, infinite in high though of unit area, required only a single page to receive a doctorate and Klaus’s second rendition of time, the mantle- and master-piece of Panta Rhei, is similar in its elegance. It seems, therefore, that great men do share an invisible star, as Guevera, immortalized in Klaus’s CheChrist, not in this collection, anticipated. Time has become, for Eichler, all that it is not, and that which is undefinable time. His analogy, not to be interpreted as too simple, is rather a beautiful concept, not so different than the ideas that underlined the Origin of the Species. For an economist, now so versed in biotechnology, the infamous quotation of Francis Crick, on seeing the, at the time, unrealistic, and inverted, model of the genetic code, which he had postulated from cartoons on paper, comes to mind. The Brit, at an extreme compared to Dirac, procrastinating his thesis for over a decade, noted that he had no idea what the secret to life would look like, though “knew would be beautiful”.
Klaus’s paintings are interrogations to those who gaze on them, rather analogous to the riddles, and traps, in Socratic dialog. He examines history, not so much from the perspective of the imperialists, or imposers, though rather, as in Galeano’s masterful trilogy, an alternative, certainly necessary, view from the defeated. Sartre once noted, to Simone, though still within ear reach of a Latin American president, having invited an idealist-turned-central banker, to participate on the discussions that he was the “most genuine person of the century”. Without hyperbole, this collection we, likely skim, though, is genuine enough to, as all great art does, leave a lasting impression. The pages, which at times cannot do justification to some of Klaus’s massive works, certainly provide a beacon, and I rather expect many readers will find themselves seeking, more frequently than they would expect, to re-open the text. The messages, at times strong, for others more subtle, do have a lingering effect.
A century after Einstein defined the modern age, after schooling in Aarau, less than a days hike for this Black Forest wanderer, his trio of thoughts on space and time, the quanta and random motion, ring in the quasi-scientific nature of some of Klaus’s works. The paintings are not so much a recipe of what ought to be, as all such spectra have indeed been phantoms, but rather what we could have sought. Perhaps it is a difference akin to the writings of Engels and Luxembourg. I suppose many who seek not to over-romanticize, find more, if not consolidation at least aptitude, in Rosa’s prose.
The questions Klaus poses can be characterized, perhaps as bold, though I prefer to see them as prescriptions, an enlightenment, post-Hegel, justified as an end, an necessary end, and from this the sublime hope that follows. The author of this introduction, so complimented to have the privilege to prepare you for what follows, sees Klaus, the transplanted cosmopolitan in the Millennium Party of his former village Wies analogy of the meaning of two hundred centuries, in their anniversary of an, aborted, two decade declaration of independence. I see Klaus, my eternal hiking partner, as the wonderful cook, so inclined, after a six hour walk, with five hundred meters of climbs, to return home and gaze upon his timepiece. It was not so much that this man was tired, but rather that, as day became night, he pondered if he had the time, the energy evidently abundant, to prepare some fresh jam from the berries collected on our “stroll”, to make the next breakfast a bit more special. I see, therefore, this Long Wei, who knows Praha’s streets so well, more as one who would take the leaflet in Hesse’s Steppenwolf, or meet the colleagues in Neruda’s tales, rather than one walking a, now artificial, golden lane. The latter is the symbolism Klaus avoids, herein, one that remembers poorly Kafka, in this post-Havel Bohemia.

Ironic Paintings and their Pentameters

Long Wei's collection begins with four, chronologically organized, paintings depicting our biological origins, as an analogy to homeland, and then defining both Europe and his, now quite adopted, Germany. If there is a second group of works, I would choose the trilogy depicting fashion, the excesses of wealth and "Route 66's" fantasmic rendition of the American Dream, as well as Metamorphosis. The latter is a stunning evolution of the last century of women, from those we still find, in the hidden hamlet's Long Wei walks through, almost daily, to the modern, almost digital, presence.
Another set, rather more historical in nature, depicts the inquisition, alludes to literature (Ulysses) and the less than prodigal return of Caesar. I would then choose a fourth group more directly ironic, combining the autobiographical Vices, a loose portrait of the Stones, and Stonehenge, the latter certainly the oldest of relics, the former merely seeking such a claim. The stunning size of Ashes and the retrained tranquility of Peace complete this quartet.
Local history is not lost on this Schwarzwald resident in a duo which analyzes the Weimar republic and the aforementioned Millennium Party which, with the exception of Guevara, present with his so sought after star, is, I believe, the first of Long Wei's works which defined a market. It has a calm that, at least for the author of this introduction, removes the days stress as he gazes at it each night. While the themes are poignant, no painting illustrates Klaus's skill better than this one, with a single cabbage, at the bottom, and almost irrelevant to the theme, so meticulously portrayed that would-be painters quickly see the limitations of their abstractions.
Klaus examines liberty in a painting with the same name, the real meaning of Europe in Terre des Pommes, the value, or propaganda, of Nationhood, and German history in the remarkably astute statue-like figures on the Ship of Folly. The latter was on the cover of a book which was published after Klaus's first exposition, not unfittingly on his sixtieth birthday, in Basel. A seventh series, also a diad, examines the hypocrisy of sports, looking at the World Cup via cartoon characters, with an audience one has to examine carefully, and a former German idol, behind the bars which he, seemingly, merits, though farcidly avoids.
The collection ends, as it began, with a re-evaluation of evolution. In Miosis, an examination of greed in "Ora et Labora" and a moderately camouflaged critique of the former Austro-Hungarian empire and the subsequent imperialist commercialization of all, even, seemingly, real icons who could have had values, and perhaps must be in our consciousness (Tantaka). Tumbling Towers is a startling accurate analogy to what really fell on September eleventh, with Carnival the most subtle of Klaus's works. One needs to examine noses from the, otherwise quite elaborate, background, to find a true meaning of the relationship between the proletariat and the bourgeois. Tsunami depicts mankind's arrogance in light of the forces of nature, with Loosers an attack on those Presidents who believe they are Kings. So fittingly, Klaus Eichler ends with an autobiographical "Q003", a wonderfully special, at the very least to this writer, symbiosis of literature and imagination. In this analogy to Don Quijote's battle with windmills, Q finds himself, paintbrush in tow, pointing to an, otherwise occupied, adopted squire. In it, Long Wei finds the poetic justification, one would hope, to continue on many more of such, quite wonderful, certainly heartwarming, always provocative, ventures, and adventures. Let us anticipate the next offering, from this, evidently quite gifted, always poignant, philosopher.

David Hunkeler
Geneva, August 20th, 2005