Art is an everlasting spirit, never leaving us alone if we have it in our blood, deep down our soul. Colours, movements, sounds, words are in the artists’ daily life, always in his/her dreams and they ask for being chased incessantly, wherever our talent leads us to.
How fascinating is the solitary, free beauty of a flower. It has found its exclusiveness in self-actualization, even if it is all alone on a mountain top, it knows it is a breath on life journey that it has to join with its colour riot. Its guide is the sounds inside, making it unique. It experiences the joy of the moment in its being, comrades of the birds singing freely. It can stand side by side with another flower as well but never loses the rhythm of its heartbeat in the fullness of its being one and only.
How unique it is to be sipping the ooze out of a world’s door left ajar that is infinitely bright. It is a quest to the worlds beyond what is seen and known. Knowing and ripening, ripening and knowing, not being able to know whether you are ripened or not, maybe just feeling.
Cherishing every moment, enjoying time passing as we move in it, watch it, listen to it, giving each moment the value it deserves because we are in it, we are with the time and space we live in. We will definitely come across with loss, feel pain for it, but the world in and around us is always ready to embrace us. As long as we feel it, we can always start again for better ends.
Being alive, feeling that you are alive is worth celebrating again and again. So youth is not limited, it is timeless, if you know the language of the heart, spiritual intoxication is given in the freshness of every day, the touch of the sun on the sea, the odour of nature, the colour of notes of beauty in our souls, sometimes with some tinge of pain because we are humans, but always in the blossom of life.
We are human beings, the mysterious creatures living in this awesome planet we call our home, cherishing us even we do not feel it all the time. Let us cherish it, with all its sunrises, sunsets, joys and sorrows and feel alive.
Borchert’s words dive deep inside, never letting go of their hard grip, as the winds of war are felt today, as they have always been felt through the history of human beings.
Borchert is here to remind us, giving us the reason why we need art, the only way to survive maybe.
She is not to be restrained in any way with her free soul yearning for an absolute free existence beyond her time.
Mountains were always in him, they were his home, the meaning of his being, sad but alive, the source of life of his veins, so the source of his art and with the touch of his eyes and hands to his homeland everything found its meaning in the full sense. Saroyan is one of us, our relative, we belong to each other, happy to us.
He paints pictures as some people write or make music to pour out their hearts, he is behind a curtain of dark loneliness.