Arts Mind

Painting is like thinking about the meaning of chaos (Notes from the window)

I absolutely love the mornings, when the kids have gone to school, alone, hot coffee in hand, listening to a magical sad tune by Rachmaninov, and looking out the window. It is a very large window, from which it overlooks the green, sunny summer of the summer, the rushing leaves in the middle of autumn, the gloomy, gloomy days of the winter and the fragile and cold when the spring comes.
I like to sit like that and…think, and think. Nothing terrible, the thoughts of an ordinary person, an ordinary woman, an ordinary mother.

The coffee has cooled down, the music is off, the four seasons go by, and…I draw…

I have a hobby, which is thinking. I could sit for hours just thinking. I think about everything, from seemingly insignificant things like the peel of a mandarin orange that a man has just thrown away to the vastness of the galaxy, the universe. From the gossip of Ho Ngoc Ha, or of Mathew Mc Fadeyn to the great thoughts of Sartre, Osho…
And because of my wandering thoughts, when it came time to get up and go do something else, I don’t know what I thought specifically, how to think. What remains are only squiggly streaks, no beginning, no end, big and small, different thickness and thinness, intertwined. Sometimes those squiggly and twisted lines create meaningless shapes that also have some meaning, like the operation of life…
There’s one thing I like to do while I’m thinking, and that’s looking out the window. Looking out the window, to me, is like looking out at life. I liked that position, behind a window, like I was on the edge of life. The life seen through the window is the framed life, even though it moves. Everything, every living thing is in a frame dedicated to it.

Putting the two interests together, I get the paintings “Looking through the window”. Simply put, I draw my thoughts while I look out the window. That’s it, no big deal.

Fate has given me certain events. And to reward myself for overcoming some of those challenges, I decided to dedicate these paintings to myself. Now, at this very moment, I give up my ideals; that art in general must, or at least contribute to, making the world a better place. Now I know, art, for me, is just a residence for my endless thoughts.”

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