This is why:
Stifters Dinge is huge (no pun intended). Its creation is so intricate and meticulous and sophisticated, I cannot help but feel in complete awe at the undoubtedly laborious process of bringing the entire show together.
On the surface, large and visible mechanisms drive the machines. Invisible to the audience, even more advanced technology and computers work behind the scenes. Working alongside all of these things are the lighting systems, let alone the music compositions and soundscapes.
I think on these things:
Everything has to be absolutely perfect - the timing has to be right; there is no room for error. A glitch in the matrix is not an option; the machines cannot improvise out of an accidental mistake. Need I even mention the remarkable creativity capable of devising a show like this from start to finish? How does one even conceive, or visualise such vivid and painstakingly detailed imagery?
Stifters Dinge provokes all kinds of contemplative enquiry within me. Maybe its the fact that it's so cryptic, or that I haven't been able to make sense of it, or perhaps I'm way too over-analytic - but here are two main thought processes that I keep coming back to.
1. The Teleological Principle (the argument from design)
(Disclaimer: I'm not going to Google this so don't quote me on this)
Wiliam Paley came up with an analogy to prove the existence god via the teleological principle. Said theory argues that since everything in the world appears to be designed (or the outcome of design), there must be a world-designer (whom Paley concludes is god, therefore god exists.)
His analogy is as such: You're walking on a heath and you stumble across a watch. You pick up the watch and take it apart, and upon seeing the intricate mechanisms within it (each placed to serve a purpose), conclude that the watch must have been created by a watchmaker (i.e. a 'god'). After all, what are the chances that such a meticulous creation should just appear by chance?
(Side note: David Hume argued that the analogy is weak as the world doesn't resemble a machine but an organic thing. A machine requires an external being to operate it; animals or vegetation do not. Therefore, weak analogy = rubbish argument. Furthermore, it usually takes more than one person to create a machine, like a car, therefore, in applying Paley's analogy, there must be more than one 'watchmaker' or 'god' - needless to say, not quite the conclusion theists were hoping for.)
It is pretty self-explanatory to see how this principle ties in with my thoughts on Stifters Dinge, minus the religious content. Shows like these make me reflect on the creator of the production as opposed to the production itself - it makes me appreciate the artistic, intellectual and creative mind behind it, which, to answer my own question I proposed at the start, is why I'm still thinking of Stifters Dinge.
My next point is this:
I enjoyed Stifters Dinge like how I enjoy architecture. Buildings, when done well, not only manifests good form, or rather, a beautiful exterior, but also contains well-thought out functions. In other words, good architecture, in my opinion, express harmonious form and function. It is a beauty I appreciate - a collaborative result stemming from a fine eye for aesthetics as well as the practical mind for function. Things that are beautiful at face value is quite frankly, bloody useless. But when something is beautiful and at the same time, serves a wonderful function - extraordinary.
If I contemplate Stifters Dinge at a level contained simply within the visions it created (including the structure of the machine/piano installation itself) and the mechanisms that created those visions, I surrender my need to find any conceptual or intellectual meaning behind it.
Or maybe, I'm just a cop out.
And with that, I bow out from my Stifters Dinge enquiry at pt. II.
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