My Paintings
Translated by Huriy Ghirmai
There may be a need to look back…
Ever since my childhood, I have befriended spots and colours in order to capture the fleeting forms of feelings and ideas – and armed with raw optimism, here I am still searching for beauty. Up until now, there is not a single colour that I do not spill or a blotch I do not toy with so that I can show the nature of my ideas and feelings. I am always aware that I am surrounded by realities that I am yet to capture the form of. And the scents of hope that I sense while I attempt to seize these truths is the stuff of my solitary journey.
Using my creative writing, I devise many schemes in order to capture the beauties that may escape the grasp of my paintings. And if I could, I would have even employed the power of music to take hold of them. In my attempt to formally catch up with them, I constantly go beyond the limits of age and philosophy. I realise that this endless journey of beauty and truth can only be nourished by an interminable tour of love. There may be some fools who, having failed to realise that art is a never-ending and inexhaustible wealth, think that it is a finite commodity which is to be used with desperate fervour before it runs out. These persons are weak like those who befriend others with the sole purpose of exploiting them until there nothing left to exploit. But then, the eternal question is, can a person who doesn’t love people love art?
In one way, my paintings are an archive of my daily life and a depository of my hopes. And there are times when they serve as the reservoir of my memories. They are surely my conferrers and confidantes. They accepted the mystery of my hidden weaknesses and waited patiently while I honed my talent. I have never forgotten that they are my life’s eternal companions.
There may be a need to look back…
Ever since my childhood, I have befriended spots and colours in order to capture the fleeting forms of feelings and ideas – and armed with raw optimism, here I am still searching for beauty. Up until now, there is not a single colour that I do not spill or a blotch I do not toy with so that I can show the nature of my ideas and feelings. I am always aware that I am surrounded by realities that I am yet to capture the form of. And the scents of hope that I sense while I attempt to seize these truths is the stuff of my solitary journey.
Using my creative writing, I devise many schemes in order to capture the beauties that may escape the grasp of my paintings. And if I could, I would have even employed the power of music to take hold of them. In my attempt to formally catch up with them, I constantly go beyond the limits of age and philosophy. I realise that this endless journey of beauty and truth can only be nourished by an interminable tour of love. There may be some fools who, having failed to realise that art is a never-ending and inexhaustible wealth, think that it is a finite commodity which is to be used with desperate fervour before it runs out. These persons are weak like those who befriend others with the sole purpose of exploiting them until there nothing left to exploit. But then, the eternal question is, can a person who doesn’t love people love art?
In one way, my paintings are an archive of my daily life and a depository of my hopes. And there are times when they serve as the reservoir of my memories. They are surely my conferrers and confidantes. They accepted the mystery of my hidden weaknesses and waited patiently while I honed my talent. I have never forgotten that they are my life’s eternal companions.