MOVEMENT MANIFESTO 

Our group decided to make our manifesto on art from a naive perspective. We all feel that good art should represent difficult subjects, but are told or seen from a child's eyes and life experiences. An example of a difficult subject or event is childbirth. There was a Superbowl commercial this year that told the process of childbirth in a humorous way. When asked where babies come from, the father makes this fantastical story about a baby s journey from the Planet of Babies  to ours. It takes nine months, he said, and only a few spaceships are successful. 
While the story is nonsense to those that know where babies really come from, it has a bit of truth in it as well. The journey takes nine months, like a typical mother s period of gestation, and only a few spaceships make it to earth--this also describes the many sperm that try and fail to fertilize an egg. 
We decided to take a story approach for our artistic example, much like the father s story about where babies come from. Our subject matter, however, is less humerous. When we were brainstorming over what story to tell, the topic of 9/11 came up. We were all fairly young when the twin towers in New York City fell, so we all had a bit of that naive perspective. When all of our stories differed enough, we thought sharing these stories along with the manifesto would be a perfect addition to drive our point home. Some of us were scared of the bad men,  others were worried about the planes being recalled, or we were completely unaware of the situation. Regardless of our stories, the event remains the same. Our interpretations of the terrorist attack differed because of our own life experiences. We were children, so we were limited. So, to better understand what was going on, we likened it to something we are familiar with, like the bad guys in Disney movies. This isn't a new idea, artists have been trying to imitate a Child's views, but like Jonathan Lethem writes about in The Ecstasy of Influence, everything has been done before, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't do it again if it's a good thing.

Neoenfant Manifesto

We have created a world that is jaded, proud, and too fast for humans to keep up. We cannot be, do, and understand everything that we need to be, do, and understand in order to fully participate in and comprehend the world we live in. We cut everything into little tiny pieces in order to explain it, and then flaunt our knowledge, congratulating ourselves on our own cleverness, as if we had created molecules, atoms, and quarks instead of just noticing them.

It is too complicated. 

So people separate into cliques, focusing on a small thing like ecology, economy, history, etc. and then reject other people’s views and opinions on the grounds that “they don’t know about my thing, they can’t understand me.” We are prideful about what we can understand, about what we can do.

As children, the world is easily explainable. Everything is still a mystery, and every answer to every question “why” is still magical. We can accept anyone, as long as they are nice to us. 

Some would claim that all change is progress, or forward movement. We hold that not every step is a step forward, that some progress is more limiting that freeing. 

We call for a return to a simpler way of living, of viewing the world, and so we create art that mimics a child’s naive view. We don’t pretend there are no problems, nor do we need to get extra grimy. We strive to depict the truth, without pretending to understand what that means.

We:

• look at mature subjects from a naïve perspective
• do not shy away from truth
• recognize that truth is often different from different perspectives
• present truth as simply and innocently and naively as possible

Christina 's Story

On September 11, 2001, I was in fourth grade. My little sister had been adopted from China two weeks before everything shut down. My parents later told me how thankful they were that they adopted NingLi when they did, instead of later. 
I had no idea what had happened. My teachers looked upset, but I didn t know what was going on. I just went on with my schoolwork, anticipating my dance class later that day. I found out it was cancelled. When my dad picked me up from school, I was furious that dance had been cancelled again. As I was going on, my dad lost his temper. He asked how I could be so insensitive. People died! I had no idea what was going on. When I asked him what happened, he told me some bad people had hit a building and almost everyone died. 
Terrified, I thought the building he was talking about was mom s work. I thought my mom died. I cried with relief when she came home safely. I was so glad the bad people hadn 't gotten her too. 

Ivy's Story

On September 11^th, 2001, I was sitting in my fourth grade classroom trying to figure out why my teacher was not teaching us. She was sitting at her desk with slow tears running down her face. A couple of minute after class officially started my teacher asked us all to be very quiet so that she could tell us something. She told us that some men crash crashed planes into buildings in New York City; everyone one in the planes died and a lot of people in the buildings. I don’t think any of my classmates really understood what really happened. I know that I did not. As I went through the school day I kept trying to figure out why men would crash planes into a building, but I was too scared to ask anyone. After school, my mom picked me up and asked me if I wanted to talk about what happened today. I said I didn’t want to. I was too afraid to ask questions. As a child refused to believe that someone would deliberately do that. It wasn’t until September 11^th, 2012 when I fully understood what happened. 

Elise's Story


My memories of 9/11 begin in a lunch room.The principal came in and announced an early
release. I remember hearing her say something about a plane, but her words were quickly drown
out by my peers. There was too much buzz over the talks of an early release to hear what was
going on.

On my way home, I asked one of my friends why we got sent home early. She said to go turn on
the TV. Someone had crashed a plane into the Pentagon and into two buildings in New York.

From there, my memory fogs. I assume my Mom filled me in and talked with me about what was
going on. I remember my dad getting home especially late that night. The next day I asked my
Dad what had happened. He said some bad people crashed a plane into the Pentagon. My Dad
said he could see the smoke from the building from his office window.

I remember getting a postcard from my friend, who was living in Costa Rica at the time. She
wanted to know if we were all okay. I remember sending her one back, but not understanding the
necessity of the communication. How could we not be okay?

After a couple weeks, the impact of the attacks started sinking in. I had become hooked on the
news. My mom couldn’t pull me away the TV. I became scared. I could hear planes fly above
my house and I remember thinking the planes were going to crash into my neighborhood. This
thought haunted my paranoid brain for years.

Eventually, life went back to normal. The only change I could see was that our field trips to DC
stopped. I noticed that my friends Dad, an analyst for the CIA, was never home and I remember
feeling lucky that I at least got to still see my Dad.

2 years later, my Dad got sent to Iraq. I didn’t know exactly why he was there, only that it had
something to do with those guys crashing the planes into the building. I didn’t really understand
why something that happened years ago was still affecting me. I knew it wasn’t just because
people crashed planes in the buildings, but I still didn’t understand the whole cause of it. I just
kept watching the news and trying to understand something way beyond what my 12 year old
self could comprehend.

Noah's Story

I’m doing my math homework early today. I’m going to get it done, I’m determined. If I put it off, that means more time building lego cities.

My mom is watching something happening on TV, and I’m watching too, while I do my math. There is smoke coming from the building, a big building. I remember my mom saying she watches Peter Jennings because he's less depressing than Tom Brokaw, but even so I’m used to seeing smoking buildings on the news. It’s strange for her to be watching so early in the morning though, she only watches at night.

I got up today full of purpose, ready to get everything done. Scriptures, book, journal. That’s what I do in the morning. Then chores. It’s Tuesday, so I clean my room, make my bed, vacuum the play room, dump the trash. 

On my way back from dumping the trash my mom is watching the news. She tells me I should watch.

Watch the news? Ugh. Why? 

As far as I know the news goes on forever. When the news is over, the day is over and it’s time to go to sleep. I didn't previously know there was news to be watched this early though. How long does she want me to watch this for? I just want to build lego.

I sit down on the couch. There is a building on TV with smoke coming out of it.

“What’s going on?”

My mom closes her eyes, it’s something grandpa does too when he’s upset. She’s upset, but not at me.

She says something about a plane crashing into the building. It’s a building in New York City. She knows it’s name, even though she’s never been there. There are so many buildings in New York City, how does she know it’s name?

I have an idea.

“Can I go get my math homework?”

“If you want to.”

I run upstairs to get it. What a clever idea! Now I can get my work done, and then I can play as soon as my mom let’s me stop watching. 

It was two planes I think. There are two buildings that look the same. My mom is really upset by people jumping from the building. I hadn't noticed them, but I want her to know that it bothers me too, so I make a face. It’s hard to do math and pay attention at the same time. This stuff really isupsetting to me though, like Mars Attacks or Toys. Well, it’s almost that upsetting. 

It’s 8:30 in the morning and the buildings just fell. I look at my mom and imitate her look of horror. 

Eventually I ask if it’s ok if I leave now. I want to go build something in my room, but I don’t tell her that. I can tell she wants me to stay, but she says I can go.

My mom wonders if this is her generation’s Pearl Harbor, everyone will remember where they were and what they were doing when they found out about it. "You kids don't understand, I remember clearly where I was when they bombed pearl harbor, or Kennedy was shot, or the planes hit the towers."

I listen solemnly and wonder, what will be my generation’s Pearl Harbor?