The event of 32 years ago that gave me
the first clue or sign of what America was all
about remains vivid in my mind today. It was a
first encounter that prepared me for America's
state of mind then as well as now. I came to understand
through great effort the meaning of this event
only after much struggle.
I Remembered few years earlier
in Paris, watching the assassination
of JFK on French television.
With the astonishment of that
momentary emotion I wondered,
why would a great and rich country
kill its president? I developed
a keen sense of observation while
living in America during the
turbulent 60s.
I arrived in New York City via
Montréal from Paris in
June of 1964, as a visitor of
my friends Moni & Mina Yakim,
with whom I resided until I found
my own apartment.
As an innocent immigrant, not
yet knowing English, American
history or culture, I just dived
in. New York was a jungle of
confusion for me. I focused on
learning the language fast so
I could catch up with my self-education
and face the realities of my
new adventure: the discovery
of my America.
In 1965 I have my first American
performance at the theatre of
La Mama. etc. downtown in the
neighborhood of Second Ave. I
offered classes in different
schools, spoke enough English
to get by, and read a lot.
Some of my performances depicted
in silence and movement those
personal observations, made through
the artist's eyes. These were
my own efforts to "understand" the
western culture in which I chose
to learn and develop my artistic
career.
Then one day a street encounter
gave me a real clue of the diseased
symptoms and the way of thinking
of America in its ununited "state".
I was walking on Broadway between
82nd and 84th streets, happy
but contemplative about the strangeness
of being here. I considered myself
to be a physically, mentally,
fit and healthy individual, and
I was simply glad to be in this
country.
I met a friend, actually an
acquaintance whom I had known
some time ago, and as we greeted
each other, I asked him where
he was going. He said, "I am
going to see my psychiatrist." I
thought to myself that to see
a psychiatrist one must be mentally
unbalanced or unable to cope
with reality. So, I said with
honesty, "Is something wrong?
he then reacted very defensively, "No." he
shouted, "If you don't have a
psychiatrist then something is
wrong with you," he said and
disappeared into the crowd.
I was transfixed, planted firm
on the ground, as dumbfounded
as if I had just been struck
by lightning on that beautiful
and sunny day. My mind went blank.
Shocked to the core, I thought
about the irrationality of this
person's behavior, his twisted
logic, and his distorted perception
of reality.
I couldn't understand then,
that such a mentally disturbed
individual, jump to a false conclusion
about me and dare to judge me
as abnormal because I did not
have a psychiatrist. I found
it to be utterly outrageous and
insulting to my intelligence.
My thoughts raced for a conclusion
or resolution as I woke up out
of my stupor. Smiling to myself,
I processed and absorbed this
event. I identified and analyzed
what had just occurred with my
natural sense of objectivity,
in order to make sense of it
without being mentally injured
by the distortion I had just
witnessed. I found myself greatly
amused with a deeper smile.
I realized and told myself, "my
dear Samuel, you have just witnessed
a glimpse of insanity and twisted
reality. Now, you know that your
have come to an immense insane
asylum. This asylum is caught
in a trap of false identities,
distorted realities that have
become a norm that relies on
psychiatrists and external authorities,
using them as an escape form
facing the truth as it is."
This innocent nouveau immigrant
suddenly understood the scope
of his survival: that one has
to be mentally strong and healthy
to face the irrationalities of
the majority - irrationalities
which are considered a norm in
this society.
I developed a safety valve called