I become the father, I become the child.
I run wild while I stand and smile.
Every minute it feels there is a transformation happening and every other second it speaks, almost reeks of it all being so utterly same.
Now there is a blush and suddenly the wrinkles form.
Now they are dark as the night and suddenly a hint of grey, I see moonshine.
Can't compare, can't say who is prettier, the young lass full of untouched anticipations in her eyes or the silver lady full of experiences sublime.
It is all the same. I see me. I hear me. I feel that bond.
The gurgling chuckles of the baby, the earthy laughter of the grandmother.
It feels good, it feels me, it transforms, it ignites. It is a passion, it is what keeps me calm!
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random thoughts, often not moving in a well defined and singular flow but nevertheless ideas that take pride in the fact that they are forward linkages of other ideas.
People always make the mistake of thinking art is created for them. But really, art is a private language for sophisticates to congratulate themselves on their superiority to the rest of the world. As my artist’s statement explains, my work is utterly incomprehensible and is therefore full of deep significance. - Calvin
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