MARCH, 21th, 2010 - STADTMUSEUM SIEGBURG
As a child, sunlight was enough for me to see things with clarity
The sun would cut through the air, smelling of wet earth and poppies, illuminating everything, until every thing cast a shadow. Everything under the sun was clear, clean, and perfect.
I spent my entire childhood observing the things that surrounded me. I was especially drawn to little things. I remember, even now, the beauty of the microuniverse encompassed by my eyes, lying face down on the ground. The tiny but voluptuous orography of a clod of earth, the perfect green of a small blade of grass and its shade, the perfect mechanism of the legs of an almost transparent spider, and their perfect shade.
In that moment, I was the absolute master of that little patch of earth which held me and that I contemplated.
If I turned on my back, I could watch the changing motions of the clouds and the chalk lines left by the planes in the sky. Under that calm, cradled by the distant sound of the planes’ engines and by the murmur of the countryside, feeling life bubbling under my back, I’d close my eyes, stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth and think that everything is possible.
Even today, when the city is asleep and the light of my study is on, and I paint with the same diligence as when I used to comb my hair with water, before going to school, I still believe that we can transform life until it resembles what we want it to be.
At that time of the night, the memory of that sunlight is enough for me to see things with absolute clarity.
Salustiano
No comments:
Post a Comment