Arts Mind

Art is something that is mapped from human’s feeling…

In my experience, a painting is not made by color or paint. I don’t know what a picture is; even the desire to draw – who knows what provoked it? It can be things, thoughts, memories, feelings – things that have nothing to do with the painting itself. They can come from anything and anywhere, a trifle, an observed, disturbing detail, and often very naturally, they come from a pre-existing picture. 

The strange and the familiar, the everyday can live together in a picture. I like to have an object to draw. But it is not easy to control, in fact, it is completely uncontrollable, its meaning is constantly changing and so is its structure. In this inevitable oscillation, images appear and then quickly disappear. Failures are always around, waiting. That, to me, has always been a mystery: why, on a lucky day, images cling to us, anchor us, with nothing forcing us to erase them. This momentary satisfaction, just this moment, has always been a surprise to me. Then, a certain disturbance becomes an obsession, invades the artist’s studio, and he begins to fall into confusion again.

I think perhaps the most latent desire for an artist, an imager, is to see it. To see what our mind can think and imagine, to realize the image for ourselves, through ourselves, as specific as possible. I think it’s the strongest urge, and at the same time the oldest, probably going back 25,000 years. Between 1961 and 1962, the urge to picture became urgent for me and I began a series of paintings with dark images, mostly in black and white. They are visualized as heads and objects.

The criterion of evaluation is nothing more than an emotion that arises at a certain time in a person’s life and you believe in it. You have to trust that feeling and then go on, believe in yourself. And then the work has the opposite effect. I know I’ve started similar things in the past, 20-25 years ago, then deleted them all. I remember very well the pictures I deleted, it turned out that they were in fact sharper than what was left. Right after that, I asked myself, “Why did I delete them?”. Well, then I wasn’t ready to accept them, that was the only answer.

Which leads me to another point; Not many people who see the paintings understand that the artist himself sometimes cannot easily accept the paintings he draws. People think that I will be proud, will be happy when looking back at my works. Not so. I am an artist who works at night, so the next morning, when I entered the studio, the frenzy had dissipated. I know that I don’t remember the specifics, but I do remember the overall feeling very well. I entered the studio with a feeling of dread, I timidly looked back at what had happened the night before. And an emotion that often arises in me is: “God, did I do this?”. That is my only evaluation criterion. Feeling of something shaking, trembling… “Is that me? Did I do it?” But most of the time, we just work like craftsmen, we build and build, add, prepare, and then when you drag your feet into the studio, you have to be surprised: “Oh my god, that’s what did i do? Looks terrible. It’s all just worth throwing away.” It was one of those last-minute fluttering emotions.

Often at that moment, you are like the one playing the last card and ready to lose – a certain state of awareness comes to you and you have to work on that moment. But you can’t force that moment to happen either. It only comes when you really see that you have to give up in order for something to happen.

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