Sight Always Has The Gratitude Of The Eyes

Your enlivening is born from what you discover within yourself as reality expands into the form of remarkable creation.

And this time the weather was totally unfavorable: rain and sleet. Dropping out was a plausible alternative, it was a kind of cover necessary to withdraw from the responsibility I had assumed before the half-marathon, where I wanted to rank in a leading position. The most subtle nuances of the states of mind that tried me at that moment, especially the state of self-contemplation that seemed to try to migrate into a painting with a fabulous and real aspect, projected their power of affirmation into a bizarre and unsettling universe, making me feel as disoriented as the hero of a G. Wells novel:

“I was just a toy in the will of chance. I had, in myself, the absolute certainty that I was involved in a maturation process caused by the deepest self-knowledge that allowed me to propel my creation into a new horizon. Ma contained a strange conviction that, apart from the grotesqueness of the laws, forms and irregular phenomena of nature, I had before me the whole scale of human life in miniature, the whole play of instincts, reason and destiny in its simplest form.”

Truly. What I experienced during the half-marathon, in miserable weather, was the creation of an artist competing with himself. I won’t say that I was demoralized as long as this turn of the situation lasted, I won’t say that I lost that artist’s quality of seeing a world in colors beyond the temporality of obscurity, in the pale light of a dynamic, of a permanent transformation that revealed, as it were, the end sewn with the white thread of the improbable. I’ll just say this: the mood of the runner in me was the reaction of the painter in front of a work of art, called abstractly: “a return to myself in a backwards world”.

Does the context in which you find yourself become significant for a creation located on the border between inside and outside, as you are called to revisit steps taken in the wrong direction?

I told myself that everything will be fine, that everything comes and goes, even the slightest feeling of bitterness can turn into a game of colors and shapes that the brilliant artist arranges in a mosaic designed to increase expressiveness of the images that represent him, that steal him and hold him captive in their story, on the other side of the torrential rain. Which was not funny at all in that gray weather. Yes, I know that, I know very well that the very context I was in was trying to tell me something about a painting that invites creative activity, making me feel as if I had divided a drawing into dozens, hundreds other smaller designs. But I knew just as well that the painting is on the border between the interior and the exterior.

Not only that. Trying to recover countless steps taken in a wrong direction, with all the attributes of a feeling passed through a Sartanopmys Sytlucsas Amhes, a feeling that made me look at what is around with different eyes, I realized a long time ago how important it is to let everything go, to be as it was. And to focus only on the gray present, full of uncertainty, throwing myself rather into a tireless agitation where the unrestrained soul seemed to be detached from an echo of the fact that every aspect of the real world destroys everything but a painting in which the colors merge over the entire surface.

Can you see yourself in the pose of an artist struggling to create a meaningful composition, to reconfigure the whole of a larger abstract painting?

A painting that is not balanced creates a sense of unease, doesn’t it? And it was in this painting that I integrated my existence to immortalize a moment extracted from the eternity of a hidden inner universe, for which even a single moment means an Endlessness. It was like a kind of mental experiment, because the painting did not manage the organization of the visible in an imaginary capable of constantly helping me in difficult moments, and in this case my only way out of a setting full of mud, hops and puddles, was to let myself at the will of thoughts.

Seconds, unapproachable, precious minutes of my human time, dwindling before one’s eyes, made me feel the color inside a brush that covers all types of painting. The rainy weather was to blame, which led me to accelerate only on the descent, not on the ascent. Obviously, I had confused the echoes of my own jerky, backwards, cold breathing, with the mixture of vapors coming from a mixture of paints and varnishes that nature seemed to illustrate in a living picture, especially in an artistic image that translated, maybe, a kind of inner battle that you can’t get rid of too easily.

Leadership: How do you manage the relationship between artistic spontaneity and the rigor of effort, so that the expressiveness that animates you does not lose the depth of living?

Of course, no observer has ever gone so far as to notice a runner like me in the pose of an artist struggling to create a meaningful, imaginative, generous setting that changes the overall design of a larger abstract painting. It was not for nothing that I thought of the possibility of giving up, betraying my own faith in a constant threat: abandonment.

Could the abandonment of an expanding universe have caused a disturbing expansion of my imaginary world? Because in art, as in running, there is a constant law: “what animates you is what you notice in yourself when your target is the expansion of reality to validate a remarkable creation”.

Makes sense, doesn’t it? The style in which I painted my way to the finish line is quite abstract, especially because I imagined and created under the power of momentary impressions, of the states I was passing through, letting the colors and the setting convey something of the image of the personality of an exceptional runner who knows how to evaluate his sensitivity before demonstrating the uniqueness of his athletic values.

If you want to be inspired exclusively by art, you have to face the challenge of deciding in which direction to go, so that the image that represents you is close to your soul.

Sight Always Has The Gratitude Of The Eyes if I take into account the fact that the image that my soul unfolded throughout the half-marathon is the result of the vision of an exceptional artist, and an equally good athlete, who knows how to depict eternal beauty in any circumstance, the beautiful embraced by the feelings well hidden inside.

In fact, this is how things are in art: the natural emotion, aroused by a certain circumstance, does not pass into the work as such unless it is under the impetus of the challenge to give an unforgettable experience.