CARVING AN EMOTION
Ever heard of the Pygmalion and Galateea’s myth? I know I did, and part of my artwork is inspired by its powerful message. Found in the Greek mythology, the story of Pygmalion is one that I resonate with. There was this amazing sculptor named Pygmalion, who spent his whole life enjoying the company of the beautiful sex. But he woke up one day feeling sick of all the bad habits, and he became disgusted of the imperfection he saw in every woman around him. He promised himself to devote his life to his work, and he built the most beautiful ivory statue, representing his ideal of a woman. Her features were the closest someone could get to perfection. And he fell in love with his work of art. He brought her gifts, jewelry, he dressed her up with the most beautiful clothes. He was desperate because the only woman he could love, would never return his love back. As an answer to his prayers, Afrodita, the beauty and love Godess, turned his ivory statue to life.
Inspiration from this love story can be found in Goethe`s Pygmalion, eine Romanze, and Donizetti`s Il Pygmalione. And attempts of the perfect beauty could be seen in my carvings.
My passion for carving came in the most unexpected time of my life, and from the most uncommon place. I was down, I was feeling lost and I was finding myself searching for something to take the pain, the misery away. Every walk I took ended up with a bottle of wine, because it was the only thing that would put me to sleep. Every poem I wrote was full of sorrow, anger and suffering. Every painting I did end up with black paint all over, because nothing was good enough. No message I was trying to send was not powerful enough anymore. I could not express my emotions anymore, and the lack of inspiration was killing me. There was no art anymore, therefore there was nothing I could believe in. My shelter was gone and I was trying to replace it.
I found out about a course, and I did exactly as Pygmalion did, I dedicated every day to my work. I didn`t expect to find my inspiration in something that seemed to be so meaningless until then. I spent days and nights working, I have learnt to transpose an emotion over an ivory face, I have learnt to express movement in something so still. I have learnt to make a statue scream out its feelings, and pour out its soul. I let my anger become the strength in a man figure`s eyes. I let my sorrow be seen through a woman figure`s dance. I let my hopes and dreams to lay down on a child figure`s smile.
And then I found my muse. She was my definition of perfection, just as Galateea was Pygmalion`s muse.
The wind would run softly through her hair and the sun would shine even brighter in her eyes. Her messy hair and her will to live was inspiring. Her smile would never reveal all the pain and suffering that she has been through. Her eyes would light up every time she talked about her dreams. Her hands touching mine, that is how two galaxies collide. She was a warrior, she was a muse, she was wild and beautiful. She was strong and confident. She was dancing in the rain and she would wish upon a star. She was childish and insecure. But no one could ever see her insecurities. There was a certain confidence in the way she moved. There was a certain power in the way she talked. There was something devilish in her eyes, but she had the kindest soul I ever met. She loved cranberries and thunders. She loved to play games, and she was always looking for adventure. She was not the kind of girl to be ready to commit, she was not the kind of girl to be satisfied with steadiness. She was looking for answers, she loved to question everything. She was intrigued by everything that was broken, and she would turn the world upside down to fix it. She would find her peace going out in a storm. She would find beauty in the blossoming of a tree, or singing a rap song. She was good and evil intertwine, she was love, and lust, and craving. She would get mad and destroy everything around her. But oh, she was beautiful in her madness.
Since then, you can find her in my every artwork. Her beauty is found in the hands of every woman`s figure, her madness is found in the eyes of every sculpture. Her innocence and purity are found in every child`s smile, and her anger and the battlefield inside her are found in every warrior statue I have made. Her confidence is hidden behind the stillness of every statue, and the way she intrigued me can be found in every curve of my artwork.
She was, she is, and forever be my muse, and pieces of her will always be the most powerful emotions I could ever transpose in a statue.
ABSTRACT ART – THE BEGINNING
The experience of different epochs created a painting that does not resort to the image, and thus especially increases the value of the basic elements: forms and colors.
An alternative way of describing our experiences, a new kind of art, a visual language of colors, shapes and forms, a way of letting your emotions out in a different manner.
From the early beginning, since the end of the 19th century, abstractionism was blamed and the painters had to prove the fact that without a centered object, shapes and colors could be considered art. It was believed that they humiliated art.
Impressionists, Cubists, Expressionists and post-impressionists, they were all judged. All these “currents” – as these revelations are usually called – seem “anarchistic” for the press, the public and the artists themselves (Bolshevism did not yet exist), since they threatened to destroy the “eternal” principle of painting. It was considered correct to say that they lead into a dead end.
But I have the temptation to turn the question to the other side, and ask if only an object centered painting means real art.
Because abstractionism changed my life. I find myself in colors and shapes. My emotions take the form of a triangle, my love is painted in red, and my beliefs are lines coming together on a piece of paper.
The ones that blamed abstractionism, though the nature of art should remain always unchanged.
Some “abstract” artists were blamed for their interest in geometry. Geometry. Why is painting, in which “geometric” forms can be recognized, called “geometric”, while painting, in which plant forms are recognized, is not called “botanical”? Or is it really possible to call a painting “musical” if it shows a guitar or a violin on it?
As far as I am concerned, the vertical, coupled with the horizontal, produces an almost dramatic sound. The contact between the acute angle of the triangle and the circle creates no less effect than the finger of God, touching Adam by Michelangelo.
Some of the modern trends in “abstract” painting – in the best sense of the word – are provided with an artistic life: they have the thrill of life, its radiance, and they influence the inner life of man through sight. In a purely picturesque manner. In a certain unique way, abstract art represents feelings intertwine with colors full of life. Emanate light and emotions. And there is no other better way to transpose everything I feel.
I found my inspiration coming out from Vasili Kandinski`s “Yellow, Red, Blue”, from Kazimir Malevici`s “Supermus nr. 58”. I felt relieved while admiring August Macke`s “Storm”, and I fell in love with the colors of Paul Klee`s “Oriental pleasure garden”. I found stillness in Theo van Doesburg`s “Rhythm of a Russian dance”, and movement in Piet Mondrian`s “Composition with red, yellow and blue”. I found anger in Jackson Pollock`s “Number 8” and I saw lovers dancing in Robert Delaunay`s “Sun, tower, airplane”. I found silence in Picasso`s figures, and I heard the screams in Franz Kline`s “Painting no. 7”.
From this amazing artists, and much more, I have learnt that the best way to express myself is through a different form of art. Because of them, I have learnt to speak through lines, figures and shapes in their purest form. I have learnt to lay down on a piece of paper my deepest secrets, my thoughts and my fears. I have learnt to let my sensitivity to work with my imagination, my reason to intertwine with my heart.
And then she came into my life. And she became my muse. She was beautiful, she was intriguing, she was bold and courageous. She wore her darkness like a little black dress. She was proud of herself, but never stopped trying to become a better person. She fought her demons every night she fell asleep, and continued that fight in the very next morning. She was young and she made mistakes. But she knew to find a way to accept them, she knew to find a way to learn from them. She had flaws, but they made her even more beautiful in my eyes. She was confident and brave. And she had no time for things with no soul. She was inspiring, and she became my shelter, my home and my heaven. I found safety in her arms, she gave me strength and confidence. I felt young and reckless beside her. I became a different man, a better man, because of her and for her.
You will find her in every color and every shape of my works. You will find her beauty in every shade of grey, and her flaws in every curve. You will find her strength in every shade of red, and her courage in every sharp line. She became, she is, and she always will be my inspiration, so fall in love with her trough my art!