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Mountains
have always fascinated humans: homes of the gods; earth that soars
upwards, in a bid to become air, potential harbourers of chaos, waiting
to erupt. Anak kinder unleashes this chaotic power as it bursts through
the floor of the everyday: an unfamiliar landscape, whose rocky outcrops,
weathered by water like Chinese jade, are inhabited by alien creatures.
Anak Kinder, literally
the child's child, reminds us that, unlike most animals, we never
lose the ability to play, to create other worlds in which to find
a line of escape. This escape may lie in the fantasy world of the
war game, in the deep-level concentration entered into by the child
constructing a toy and the mechanic constructing a car, or in the
commitment of the jade sculptor who spends years perfecting their
craft on a single piece. Escape may also be found in the freedom
that comes from simply surrendering oneself to play for its own
sake, without the drive to produce a useful or saleable object.
The teeming neverland
of Anak Kinder is no apocalyptic vision of hell; rather it is a
garden of delights, atop which a vast revolving egg, symbol of fertility
and new life, surveys the craggy terrain like a surreal yet benign
eye. Anak Kinder thus holds out the possibility of a more creative,
more compassionate world:
a 'Kinder-World.'
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