My picture testify for my love, depict my choice to give thanks for I am.
The complaints are hard to hear and typically boredom yet we are used to meet them almost on a daily basis. We are reading about the various disasters and the awful bureaucracy, the obvious crime… we are used to look at the mirror daily. I am talking about the mirror of the fine arts, the mirror that affects us not by the design but through what it tries to depict to us- to show the remnants of our own spiritual disability healed by the divine light.
Currently the Graffiti is considered to be the modern art, one of these different art forms that were mentioned above. Therefore all I have said about the impact of the fine arts should fit to Graffiti too, in spite I would like to name it not the fine arts, but the ordinary rough stuff, the hooliganism. Have a look at a photo of the wall on the heart of the town and decide by yourself what the art is about. Is our tolerance a symbol of our civilization or the awful apathy, the concern exclusively with the self alone?
As we all know, the movement is the best medicine in our life. The same is true in the world of the fine arts. The illusion of the movement of the light attracts the most and gives as a meaning so the purpose to the pictures that we frame and are proud of.
“W O W !!!” is the typical sigh in the exhibition halls of the fine arts.
Yet it transforms soon into a question, what is this? Is it an oil painting, or the digital creation? Is it just a sheet of a watercolors?
The answer strictly impacts the ranking, so to say, depicts what is only a cheap play and what represents the eternities.
“WOW“,what the typical reactions meaningless are.
Have a look. I can paint either with a brush, or with my own finger. The tools mean nothing at all. What is framed on the wall is just a reflection of my trying to catch the eternities, to portrait the dance of the divine light. That’s the priceless. What means indeed is our personal response to what was perceived by us in the picture on the wall.
Unfortunatelly, that is the twice- told tale that bothers artists of all ages.