I live in a rather remote corner of the everyday world.

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waking up in the morning, listening to the latest news, on top of it the newspapers commentaries and then, during a quiet and sumptuous breakfast Radio Klara, informing me on cultural matters and on what enthralling music is waiting for me in the coming day.

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this ritual is my choice ... a deliberate try not to be overwhelmed by the constant stream of terrible news that is the main part of ‘everyday reality’ as we commonly call it.

I know this reality, but I refuse to accept that Beauty is hiding nowhere... I go out to look for it wilfully.

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and then, when I close the door of my studio behind me, I lock out all evil, my world is reduced to that personal square, that thin bubble of paint and paper where it is so good to be ... the full-flavoured presence of acrylic and ink, pencils and crayons in so many shades of black, the patient brushes and the diversity in colour and shape of hand-made paper or sometimes canvas and of all objects spread all over the place trying to catch the light.

the recurring wonder, the emotional admiration of the quiet, generous presence of those beautiful human beings who are my models.
yes, they are beautiful, but they are so much more...

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it’s my choice not to embitter the time that is still given me with only sour news or delaying protest against too big problems.

I leave ‘kicking consciousness’ to the people who feel called upon doing so.
my acts of resistance are down to earth and elevated at the same time... tangibly palpable as well as sublimating...
the intense experience of beauty, freezing movement into an image, the enlightening of the warmth under the skin, that focused scribbling that reveals a fascinating life underneath...

 

I’ve feared for a long time that art is not going to save the world,
but maybe for a short time art can save me – and you, dear reader – from the world.

 

 

georges