The Eyes Paint More Than A Thousand Words
Only an artist well acquainted with himself has the power to borrow from nature the gentle charm of a language that transforms the visual into feeling.
I need only gaze upon the sea, and she at me, to understand why an artist’s eyes see only the ideal that appears as real, and even more real than the so-called real. Calm, tender, innocent, poetry-gatherer and beautiful, the eyes paint more than a thousand words when they capture the image of a morning at the seaside, as an excellent means of conditioning the clairvoyant system from which the relevance of the creative experience can result.
The sea always catches my eye, as if she were the eyes of an artist whose belief is simple: „To paint with bathed breath, beyond rules and techniques.” And I still gaze at her in amazement, at the memory of a past life, from an unwritten time in a living clock, in color, in a dream, while the sunlight mirrors her smile in the glow of her waves.
Of course. I wink while gazing at her intensely, with the sensitivity of the artist’s soul, optically sipping from the primordial sources of art that echo of the character portrayed in the image of Poseidon, the only one who can command the storm when divine power is embodied in him. To the invisible world, of the „converging lens” type, in which the regrets of not being a god are bathed, I recognize its depths, as if I were crossing a true spiritual void, living as if more and more only for me, for spirit, in the ambiance of dreamlike feelings.
How long are you ready to maintain a certain level of intuitive feeling in favor of a broad artistic vision that can give consistency to your creation?
Perhaps, however, the absolute master of the sea is a meditative spirit oriented towards loneliness, interspersed in the tidal flow of a silent but fierce language, in any case artistic, by transmitting the emotion provoked by the most famous steps of peace of mind. I have counted those steps hundreds of times trying to keep my mind occupied, but my gentle and humble soul knew and still knows: there is no parting for us. And just as many times, the sea whispered to me in a languid voice, as if they wanted to make me part of a way of turning a blind eye: „Try to understand me, and don’t ask me the impossible. Don’t look at me with the reproach that this is all about reason.”
No sea is better portrayed in painting than the memory of Deja Vu sensations. I just have to look at the sea in any season to meet again with eyes that never look, the same eye that, in an incomprehensible way, dominate my artistic spirit. Of what importance are the waves, as long as I’m one with the sea? Not in the sense that the intellect or feeling believes in the reality of sensible things, vast and deep, but in the sense that the sea sees me as a shell brought by the sea currents to the shore.
And this shell full of mysteries, illuminated by a holy halo, installed in an artistic genre, is collected by a well-differentiated painter and well clarified with himself, in a certain requirement of the palette. He knows how to metamorphose it into a flute meant to perform the same arpeggios for a long time. A flute that desperately craves a solo...
Do you dare to touch the line of an infinite horizon that has firmly drawn the meaning of a visionary demonstration of the „multi-sided picture”?
Especially this relationship between sea and man, between vastness and depth, between the fixed point and the echo that disappears in the ether, between the fixed painting and a moving moment, must be taken into account by any artist who knows how to see in his subject, in the one who loves him unspeakably, the state of ascension to the sublime. Thus, the memory of my sensations is not only immense, but also detached from those that are uttered only in secret, mastered by the pathos of a passing madness: to have come to terms with a god of waters and oceans, only to fill my inner universe with the stylized design of a relaxing seascape that gives life to a new vision of reality.
I say this, on the one hand, because the sublime is the sea seen as a work that is gaining momentum, not being strictly limited by imagination or feeling, but because it can receive the whole divine character if we consider it to be a whole: in artistic solemnity is contained what is contained in God.
Suddenly, three entities are observed in the foreground: the sea, the artist and divinity, and whoever looks at this painting from another angle could notice a single doubling of the world view through an elastic force of colors that highlights the plastic „expressiveness”. Here, then, is the essence of the artist: the power to borrow from the sea, with its vastness and depth, the gentle charm of a language that transforms the visual into feeling.
On the other hand, if I were to regard the sea as the supreme archetype of poetry, music, or painting, without seeing it as the prototype of wisdom and divine force, without dissolving it into absolute identity, then I must keep in mind that no artist expresses his painting as a waltz of rhythmic words, but as a language reduced to its very essence: dialogue, communion, inter-animation and inter-penetration.
Leadership is the power to penetrate the universe of a creation whose result allows the confirmation of a different vision of personal reality, from a multitude of other possibilities of rendering an optical image.
The Eyes Paint More Than A Thousand Words when it comes to intuiting a reality that is not seen, but felt through a visual construction. We have in mind that whenever we refer to an image that awakens a special memory, the desire to have a certain experience again, to be there, we must refer to an artistic composition that presupposes the existence of two different themes: nature, and a discreet, fantastic, moving presence called Eternity.
