The Voice Of A Preacher In The Desert

Leadership is the life experience that gives you the construction of an Alter-Ego that almost replaces your entire being.

Nature is admired everywhere, as it is, varied, bright or gloomy, but as human as possible, fed only by the stories of the characters in paintings that charm you from the first sight. It is immortalized by the painter of the realism artist who knows how to convey an intense emotion through a balanced assortment of significant colors and details.

And there, in the silence of the earth, even in the midst of a cloudy weather, sits majestic, handsome and straight to heaven, He, the rose, the part of me that experiences the events of the world through the language of nature.

I do not boast, however, that I knew the soul of the rose well enough, because, of course, he is also part of the creation of the sensitive world, unity between spirit and matter, he also has a form, he has nobility, character, a bodily basis, a clean conscience, sensitivity, but above all he has a history, he has something eternal, being triggered by the same divine spark with which man is endowed. I’m not much of a psychologist, but as far as I know I need to make a connection between the visual arts and the excitement of a beginning of a story, in which vision pervades all human depths.

I try to control the lines, the chromatic zones, the symbolism of a continuous elevation, the deep note of originality, by the very quality of the rose to tell a life full of teachings, a monumental destiny. And to multiply by means of art the meaning of the victory of nature, establishing a relation between the subject and the universe, between emotion and visuality, means to highlight the work of a genius creator who tries to experience the consciousness of a secular voice that expresses the sum of all the aspects of the subject pertaining to human nature.

Is your creative experience closely related to the image with which you associate your sense of life, so as to give continuity to the story with which you identify your personality?

Whispering things deep and understood only by the chosen spirits, I understood the voice of the rose as being of a desert preacher, a voice that trembled because of sadness, a calm and cold voice at the same time, secret, but imperious, from which I cannot separate.

I am modest about my assumptions about people, I reconcile with them only through the resemblances with the reality they live in, as long as the regret of separating from this world does not reach the Vertigo of Nothingness. I expect them to smile at me with contempt and disbelief, sometimes I see that they do it only in passing, behind the words that animate the thinking and life of those who know themselves overcome by suffering. Others, encompassed by the beauty of the moment and wanting to keep it at least once among the tired eyelashes, give me a sympathetic and contemptuous smile, at the same time, who seems to say: “You are the only person I wanted to see…”

Unchanged by the passage of time, I always say that no one knows what is in the soul of another. Our worlds are getting closer, but the connections are still invisible to those who still cannot believe in a particular emotional symbolism, as varied and as significant, as those who refuse to see their reflection in the mirror with different eyes. The significance of my existence is in close connection with the melancholy of the man facing the greatness and spectacularism of nature, whose history is mocked or even ignored. Nature is eternal, while man is transient.

The eternal works have all the patience to wait, silent and reserved, a revealing image of the contribution that the rose has made in human life, an experience of living and of the substance dialogue between two similar destinations.

Can the creation of reality that defines you as a whole be a model of perseverance in the context of an influence that joins regular events?

The creation of reality that defines a wandering soul as a whole is like a never-ending source of feelings poured into a picture that crosses eternity itself through the subject it treats from the perspective of comparison with a model of virtue adapted to hard times.

I am not just a rose, but an allegory largely based on true life experiences, which uses the characters, their role and deeds as a conversation with a “it would’ve been better if…”, hoping that everything will have an echo in other times, under other circumstances, under another aspect.

I want to say that nature shaped me like a hermit living in the midst of the world with the thirst to conquer the world with all its laws and forces. But sometimes, just like the old Morla turtle in the “Marshes of Sorrow”, who always talked to itself, because there was no other interlocutor to listen to, nor did I feel prepared to survive a reality that was far too complicated to be changed:

“I’m old, I’ve lived enough. I saw too much. For those who know as much as I do, nothing matters anymore. Everything is repeated forever, day and night, summer and winter. The world is barren and devoid of any meaning. Everything is going in circles. What appears must disappear, what is born must die. Everything is compensated for, good and evil, stupidity and wisdom, beauty and ugliness. Everything is insipid. Nothing is real. Nothing is important.”

Can your life’s course be understood as a recovery of the great moments from the meanders of a vulnerable destiny characterized by a more intense experience of being “above time”?

Bastian, from the “Endless story”, experiences the same consistency of character given by the strong image of the rose: “I would like to face a real danger that requires a mad courage. Here in the desert you cannot meet anyone. It is a great thing to be able to endure shortcomings and endure difficulties. But courage and daring are something else entirely. But it would be great to meet a dangerous being, but at the same time the most beautiful of all Fantasy.”

The rose highlights the difference between Him from yesterday, today and tomorrow, but at the level of reason, feeling and human choice, in completing the power to withstand the test of time.

If my thoughts are, in fact, illusions of a life that wishes to have been experienced in other times, under the appearance of other characters: kings or servants, men or women, humble or proud, gentle or harsh, intelligent or stupid, in love or not, then the work of a genius creator is the composition of a nature that bears in itself, in every movement of it, the signs of a teaching that we must take into account in the future: everything is nothing without color, without feeling, without challenges, without artistic sense.

Often, leadership is the life experience that the construction of an Alter-Ego gives you, one which almost replaces your entire being.

Perhaps one day, a day when many interesting things happen, melted and infused in the fabric of a reality that puts its mark on eternity, you will admire me as a spiritual continuity of my facts and teachings from other incarnations, from other hypostases, from other universes. This is also a characteristic of the artist who, in a vision never before encountered, has a more subtle form of existence, specific to the merit of being immortalized in a context of encounter between two similar entities: between earth and heaven, between God and man, between soul and reason, between various facts and events.

It’s already late. The moon retreated behind the lead-like clouds. A small blob of wind swings my brightly colored petals. Nobody sees me at this time. That is why I will conclude this confession full of meanings about the artist’s effort to put more emphasis on a reality full of sensitivity and learning. A convincing echo still permeates my presence in the middle of the world, as it would pass through a man who until the last moment lives with an open heart an experience consumed in its entirety.

I learned from man and from the life that shelters him spiritually, that it is the same thing to be creation and creator under a sky full of peace, when you hear nothing but the wind and the whispers of sunset. The only thing done to differentiate us is living with the artist who addresses the role of mediator between character and narrator.

The experience of being above time concerns the meaning attributed to a singular destiny governed by the reality that no storm of life can separate us from the belief in a new beginning of the story, in which you must become a hero and cease to be just one survivor.

The Voice Of A Preacher In The Desert is nourished by the nobility of the present moment that belongs entirely to the artist, because no one else dares to assume this responsibility alone: to turn an endless story into a reality, even if no one believes it. Even if no one understands it.