According to Aristoteles, history is the account, fiction is all the possible. The poet, the artist is therefore supposedly “grander’’ when compared to the historians, the account-makers, because fiction includes all the possibilities. All these possibilities are inevitably confronted with the notion of time. The greeks’s answer to time and to the actually non existence of time has been myth. They instituted narrative as the space between chaos; narration becomes an act of testifying time while robbing resources to create an homogenous accounting of time.1 That’s why, no matter what kind of language is employed - in music as well as in other time-related art forms - narrative is the conditio sine qua non to institute a necessarily fictitious relationship with time. Narrative, dramaturgy, is hence a
Julian Barbour, The End of Time: The Next Revolution in Our Understanding of the Universe, 1999.
Nothing is certain, only chance is real. Summarising and vulgarising Quentin Meillassoux's theory (Après la Finitude, 2006) about contingency
one might wonder: do we transfer the impossibility of certitude by embracing chance through the means of art? Could such act of transfer be considered a palpable representation of ''speculative realism”, where the Hegelian sprits of today face and inhabit the negativity of it, hopefully transcending it through the narrative of art?