I came across this series of paintings, that I did when I was 12-13 years old, at my parents’ house. I certainly did not have, as a kid, a great intellectual depth. it was raw and mostly unconscious inspiration. Colours were just pouring out of the brush. Nevertheless, I still find myself today tormented by the same questions and reinventing the same concepts. Rewording them from time to time to feel clever or creative: dualism, reconciling different facets of the same reality, the quest for knowledge, the relation between mathematics and arts, silent resignation, the mysterious Blue color, truth in abstract painting, symbolism, etc.
(Click to enlarge)
It seems to me that there is something that makes us who we are; that determines our perception and deepest thoughts. It defines us. No matter what we learn and read in the course of our lifetime, we but add more and more artifacts and complexity to our original bare simplicity. The rest of our knowledge is either a by-product of this inner intuition or an unimportant detail.
To live, as a matter of fact, is to strive to get back to who we were before our minds got contaminated by contrivance and artificiality. Not to mention the disproportionate ego we learn to develop.
We have to become the child we once were…
I do not mean it as a moralizing, poetic or romantic aphorism, rather as a rational consequence of my thinking and life experiences.