Beauty Unseen Except By The Eye That Contemplates Its Secret

What you see depends on the perspective of a complex artistic experience, formed through the prism of the interaction between sensibility and vision.

I have always liked the sea. So much, but so much, that I return to her whenever her image guides my dream of being one with art, with the beauty of nature, with spectacular landscapes. Of course, a fascinating experience can be fulfilled with things about myself, aesthetic forms that art brings to life, and that I like to observe around. True poems for the soul.

I know this too well because, in the end, the only one who can answer the questions of my inner searches, culminating expeditions into the labyrinth of the soul, is only myself, with my own exaggerated or subtle visions, inscribed on a special easel, adjustable to the depth of the sea, like a silent accomplice in the dance of active waves from sunrise to sunset.

In the monumental symphony of nature, like a silent partner that dances to the rhythm of my dreams, accompanying my steps on the path of art, this lively easel harmonizes with my mood, keeping solemn memories over dreams superimposed with delays of several years over the creation of nature. And if I keep looking at the waves, hoping to find a divine sign, a silent answer capable of showing me the way to an unexplored palette of colors, maybe I can add brilliance to an eternal story, akin to a journey through time and space.

Can your creation resonate like an echo with the inner voice that you often neglect, so that you value every visual element that enriches your artistic perspective?

In one of the dialogues with nature, I received from the sea, which I contemplated insatiably like an impressionist painting, a kind of boundless inspiration transposed into a kind of declaration of deep appreciation:

- And above all, you shape your words according to your proximity to me, don't you? On the one hand, you really love me for the sparkle I lend to the sun, pretty much, which basically boils down to one thing, I'm a mirror in the endless sky. And here I can bring as an argument all possible kinds of evidence. On the other hand, I admit that whenever you look at me, eager to embrace the horizon line, with that stellar intensity that exceeds the limit of experimental knowledge, I feel that I become more important, younger, part of a reality that pours out onto the easel expanse of your creation. They are not just a sea, but the destiny of a painting that gives life to the artist's vision.

I am the sea, you are the artist of my vision.

Something tells you to plunge as far as you can into the deep underwater life of the sea, to bring out something of yourself, something that you believe is your best nature, your higher self, the little-known Athlesalyni Sethasor. Again and again, something prompts me to hear your words, like a whisper that goes straight to the soul. Even the simple confession that I meant something to you filled me with happiness so much that the words became a kind of magical echo, all the surrounding sounds sounded like a double, ready to cross the generations of artists who dared to paint the sky and the sea in new colors, always reinventing our story.

Not only that. Do not think that this confession was simple; it was not at all simple, because it crossed time and space to return to the present, to you, incomparable artist. Although it could have been the simplest statement, the true beauty is in the words in which I managed to dress your ideas, I am happy because such a state, being still an inspiration, gives me the strength to give myself totally in the moment your creation, not holding it back and not truncating it with anything. I expect anything but to be contradicted, to have my beliefs questioned. But I must repeat, this confession was not simple, being undeniably rational, worthy of a voice that vibrates with inspiration on the easel.

How can you reveal your feelings from the perspective of an eternal presence, in front of a wide and comprehensive space that unmistakably dominates you, and which you must dominate?

My great love, you reveal so much to me, always and always. Then, when you said those words, your eyes were enveloped in a mystery che mette alla prova i confini tra fantasia e realta, and being bluer than your very expanse, I could merge my dreams and my desires into them, to let them be lost in your mysterious depths, to find my peace in their endless expanse. How can I not believe you? How can I pretend that I do not carry in my soul the feeling of being close to a consciousness of eternity, an eternal presence that has recorded and kept intact the history and mysteries of time?

In this regard, feeling that I am part of a far too vast space, my heart feeling the mysterious depth of eternity, I want to discuss a fragment from the book "The Dervish and Death" by Mesa Selimovic:

"I knew them, they were the slightly changed teachings of the Greek philosophers, translated into Arabic by Ibn-Sina in his works. After these teachings, man gradually reached what he is today, slowly adapting, subduing his nature, becoming the only being endowed with consciousness Thus nature is no longer a mystery to him, nor the expanse around him an unknown one, he has conquered and dominates them, traversing the great road from the abysses to the stars.

Space, the limitless expanse, is my dungeon, a devouring corner of my imagination. I say this listening to the echo of my unknown thoughts, dripping an unexpected ardor in my heart, as if the sea were a silent and understanding witness of these feelings. This space dominates me without fail. I own him only as far as the eye can take him. And he tires me, scares me, calls me, draws me closer to him or pushes me away. I imagine that space sees me and actually doesn't care about me, says I can conquer it, when in fact I'm just taking advantage of its indifference."

Leadership has as a memorable substrate the following rational conviction: "The richer the content of your heart, the more the vision you project in your creation becomes deeper and, at the same time, widely encompassing."

The hidden beauty of a hidden world is only seen by the eye that contemplates its secret. I mean that the sea seen by the artist, no matter how deep and enigmatic it is, is for him a sacred space of exploration. This gives him the opportunity to lose himself in his inner world and contemplate the hidden depths of human existence. It is like a window into the secrets of the universe, where every wave and every shade becomes elements of a visual story that captures the essence of artistic creativity.