Painting exercise in painting exercise
This winter was and fight with us. Alien lonely not alone. With a careless heart to protect us, with whispers of the rain to lull us and with the unnecessary gusts of the wind to stone us. Somewhere there, among drunken desires and tastes of paradise, we turned ascetics to set up on boards a skill, a spell to tell the story of despair, and the futility of progress a stone's throw away. And we turned to these small icons to build life with earth and light; life as it has been for centuries now in the hearts and bodies of ascetics; life as the unity of everything, which happens now and forever with effort and pain, with the voluntary self sacrifice. And so we started a long journey to the Ithaca of colors and the thespian Penelope of shapes. And we had to find ways to marry colors, and movements to fit secrets, so that the life of the ascetics becomes a painting, the life from the side of the ascetics, where everything surrounds each other, kissing on their return to the great womb of Life.
The ascetics, the egos, have many and triumphant colors, because they are preachers who preach about the power of beauty, colors that modestly and tenderly cry out that the world can only live with the unholy freedom that accepts to be sacrificed for the sake of the enemy; with the silence that never precedes the question; with the love that endures and endures in the body all the world's crookedness and pain and death with joy.