See Me Beyond What Can Be Seen
The artist’s seal is felt precisely in the way he chooses the parts of life that he depicts in the work which is all the more brilliant, the more one guesses beyond what is seen.
George Kopaliani - Feel my mind. This song is all about attitude, it’s about the power of educating your mind when you deserve to discover about yourself what you’ve never discovered before. By and large, it is about RUNNING, a symbolic world, tried unparalleled in the line of refined burnings and inner distillations, sometimes managing to reveal the most refined feelings that nourish the soul in abundance. For, often, running is revealed by awakening, amplifying and gaining long-term control over the mental performance of which only a creator who has subjected the forms of artistic expression to a self-imposed rigor, exploiting the qualities of his own nature, can prove.
Feel my mind is listened to during a comfortable and balanced workout, but in an evening chiaroscuro, when you follow the call of the heart. It begins slowly, like a warming of the soul before the muscles, in the subtle plane of a moving interiority, sometimes inclined towards fable, which abandons itself to an intense action that requires the use of the body. Then in the middle, shortly after the 3rd minute, the dynamism starts, when you give everything you can. A warm voice in the background whispers to you tenderly, preventively, not to give up. At no cost, do not give up. Something gives you the strength to keep going, even if you feel like you can’t.
Suddenly you get the impression that you are entering a cosmic corridor, you start resonating with the stars, full of life and very dreamy, you are no longer attentive to running, you are no longer attentive to the world around you, you no longer see anyone. You are alone with yourself, with the air of holiness of grand solitude, in the sweet envelopment of the feeling of spiritual uplift that passes in a fantastic flight through the mystery of the evening. Honest with yourself, with your soul, alone with the moon and the stars. And you start building a normal RUNNING rhythm. Something in the shadows, like a whisper coming from nowhere, sipping powers from the fountains of a free conscience, keeps whispering to you: DON’T GIVE UP !
And then a view opens up in your way, as if saved from an avatar. It’s your world ! And no one understands your world, because it is the winged world, so rare, full of introspection, that of winners !
Can the object of attention that may fall under your senses be imposed on you as a whole unit before researching its contents?
There is a soul in this song, reserved and at the same time energetic, beyond its organic structure, analyzed under the impulse of the intense life, of the immediate experience. Her melodic line, so sensitive, with great emotional vibration, caresses my soul with the same zeal with which a painter affirms his boundless love of life in a chromatic outburst radiating light and feelings. It is there, in the cold of the beginning of winter, behind the trembling leaf, behind the tense muscles, whispering deep and incomprehensible things, bringing the Largo-Allegro succession several times in the defeated moments of unexpected impulses.
The sound of Adagietto, shaped by the depths of cosmic becoming, lazily plunging into my own feelings to discover the most vivid analogy with the eternal works of the Holy Spirit, extends into the space between reality and imagination. I still run freely, dreamily, embracing in my thoughts and in my soul the whole vibration of an utterance by which the universal being reveals itself as the world of the human being, and even of the divine being. When you run, the sound of the glory of infinity follows you, it does not give you peace, but it does not consume you either.
The expressive effect comes from the immediate juxtaposition of two contrasting musical states: one retains the greatness of the thoughts behind the spontaneous movements (materialized in an auditory image), and its pair echoes the Tremolo individualized feelings, said as if “whispered” in a compact frame of mind, of solidarity with an enlightening look at solitary passions.
There is something else that cannot be seen, and yet must be seen, or at least felt. Always a soul coordinated from the lowest to the highest sounds, turning into thousands and thousands of different sounds, becomes the center of the universe.
Can you activate the image adjustment option in the form of an impressive confession of feelings, fully manifesting your willingness to become a single expressive entity contained in a single evocative setting?
Running is experienced as a struggle that you fight first with yourself. Do not count your steps, but listen to your soul, fill it with good will, orienting it towards the astral projections. A new world opens at every step, there, in the silence of the evening that has no other purpose than to whisper a syllable – either to bring down a mountain or to fly like a singing bird. And running is easy to bear, as a kind of spell of a universe totally different from the world of others, especially when the sound “solemnis”, born as if from the silence of the earth, from the gravity of the cold air, activates the power of the creative spirit in the universal consciousness.
This is demonstrated by writer Alexandru Vlahuţă when he told the story about painter Nicolae Grigorescu:
“A terrible struggle is his life. Every morning brings him new hope, and every evening is a new despair. Eternally dissatisfied with his work, shaving a cloth ten times, leaving and returning ten times in the same corner of nature, which always spoke something else of the great mystery, and he always asked, feeling that, beyond the lines and colors that are seen, there is something else that cannot be seen, and that still must be seen. It must. For this is the calling of an artist in the world – to make you see forever and ever what nature shows only once, in the flash of a moment, once, in all the incomprehensible and frightening eternity of time.”
Well, where can the most emotion be found: in a painter’s soul, or in a runner’s soul? They both embark on the same long path of redemption: one with the easel in his arms, the other with the gold medal in his dream, one with his foot on the obstacle executing an impulse with the stretching of the joints, the other capturing and selecting what is characteristic in nature. But both look carefully, forward and downward, to balance the contrast between the imaginary and the perceptible, mediating the interference of the sacred man.
How gladly you return to where your soul is as an artist, well polished into a winning model. How much tension there is in a bold work that combines suppleness and sensitivity to the point where the tempo changes from Largo – into Animato, per giocare con entusiasmo e spirito, the acoustic character being thus prolonged as an echo with deep resonances beyond time and space, according to which “spirits living in different places and times think the same way, feel the same creative impulses, even communicate through unsuspected, transparent and evanescent channels”.
I realized – Feel my mind – that whenever I return to Running, just as the artist returns to his canvas, composing colors and emotions, I will be deeply penetrated by the feeling of freedom that is offered to you by sincerity and fidelity, that feeling of “I would stay here, I don’t want to go back.” But that’s not readily apparent, is it?
Leadership can be considered valid in the form of an impressive confession of feelings, a reflection on the inner universe that never conflicts with the outer reality.
See Me Beyond What Can Be Seen if you want to understand what can only be felt with your heart.
The runner has a soul, you cannot hear his cries, his sighs, you cannot hear his footsteps passing over obstacles, over lofty peaks, over lonely cliffs, occupying a scene subjected by lights and shadows. Often, without leaving a trace, but fitting into a single “Myself” frame, he steps victoriously towards an unexpected horizon, where he will create his world. You will not see him again, perhaps, in a flash, in all the immeasurable eternity of time.
Nicolae Iorga rightly said: “The artist’s seal is felt exactly in the way he chooses the parts of life that he depicts in the work which is all the more brilliant the more one guesses beyond what is seen.”
