Painting: Acrylic on Canvas and Wood.
The first year on the New continent has passed. We cross the lines to sum it up…
I take a canvas and paint to rearrange my thoughts. To let my emotions, take over.
I like to enrich myself by breathing in the life of the places I visit for the first time. I like to feel the rhythm, inhale the scents, absorb the all the colors, and look at the people. I like to see how they react when I break their daily routine by asking a few questions and give them compliments.
Compared to all the other places I have visited, New York is a city of the most dramatic contrasts. So many wonderful people gathered together from all over the world with a desire to write their own page in the history of the famous ones.
I have great expectations, because I believe that for extraordinary success you need to be hell ready!
I burn with the desire to meet what kind of a crazy “click” there is in their heads while cutting through their own ways towards the top of the hill of the Big Apple. I explore, I test, I peek in, I ask…. I carefully listen…
Is it possible that all I see is the impression of dead dynamics of empty eyes and shallow running after their own tail?
I make a move on the canvas, leaving the paint on while I am looking for the answers…
What is the magic in walking on the beaten path? Is it because you can walk fast and without much thinking? Is it magic if you are follow the signs that other people put there? Those signs were set for the millions of people who walk the same paths. They walk down these guided paths thinking they will conquer the top of some new hill?
Run along all the crossed, parallel, and perfectly marked paths. The paths are marked by numbers. We fall asleep easily counting numbers, right? The colors are simple and clear. The light is so bright it cuts your eyes, it makes you look down.
Luckily you have the night as a break from the fast and empty pace. You let yourself dream, but when you wake up, you continue at the same pace as before. You think to yourself, the faster you go, the sooner you will be there. It’s better not to look up because the buildings are too high. They hide the perfect blue sky and they cut the horizon by their cold sharp walls. You easily fall in to the pattern of the masses by never asking if there is a better, smart way. You tell to everyone around that you are so tired. You get your coffee to go and you drink it from a paper cup while you keep running. On your own. Alone.