39 Painting

The God of the Cathedral The lady who makes me photocopies are very polite and well below my routes. I zoomed in on a small detail, postage stamp size, the cathedral up to a 60x80 and it was the lady photocopies to enlighten me: if we still lose the bigger picture. He said so, more or less. So I came home, after passing under the dome with the fotocopiona the arm and once at home, I rolled out and realized something ... but what? .. And up and down, Tenente Colombo-style, and looked the picture and it was incredibly not defined ... others and other passages again and you would be lost. Therefore, I deduced that if I magnify things much the same things, do not have them anymore. Logical deduction. Logic up to a certain point because it is losing the sense of the thing itself, the cathedral as it is used to seeing, which has an atmosphere that is no longer matter, as if it were made ​​up of many small dots, and the point is, par excellence, abstraction. And 'some abstraction point. Go and take the point. The phrase Lady also made me think it would be nice not to lose anything, seeing things in their measure. Mrs. philosopher. But just a few years, maybe walking here and there, I would find all the things I've lost magnified. The would encounter on the sidewalks, because often I watch where I walk the earth. Almost whores then find it on the street ... E 'that I tend to romanticize, maybe to have that divine company, Olympic, and I'm missing here on earth, not easy to find. Then I go down to the head and photocopying and enlargements. Magnify things up to lose and I do not care anymore. The still find and I see, still great, or resized. I challenge the human. You lose the human. If you hold the photocopies and my tone and remains, and is the original well, is a god, amen otherwise, and it is with your replichevole nature.   Meanwhile, the divine is replicable by machines, photocopiers, I think an artist obsessed by something. He is Monet, Claude Monet. And I think its cathedrals that wants light. And they take it. And then his water lilies. They want the water and they take it. Come to think of Morandi as well: does not come out from his bottles. They are his own and can do as they like. They do not give an impression of recognition to his research (what else would try?) But because he pulls so. And so, for me they are artists, all those that are repeated for money, they do not, they are not artists, rather, they are whores and if they can go get it in the ass. Meanwhile, that I am sick, I told the doctor, I have to keep going ... my way. Carrier of painting. E 'in the blood. May careful that you are bum 'sti fags. Were not his exact words but the meaning translated in my thinking. Therefore I paint. And what do I paint? The cathedral, the seat of sensory my god - oh my god! - I photocopied in small format and we walk around, as I often do, and we walk with the colors. The same image, the same cathedral, and the color contrast, different each time, even a half step, but always different. As if the color was thrown out of the cathedral, many small brushstrokes and color, from which is inside the cathedral, comes out, goes spirituality and spills on the streets that have no trace of the streets: it's all color. The dome is a set of points. In black and white. Effect of a photocopy. Like if you took away the soul from inside: every point that the shape amplifies the abstraction. As if there was color in her soul.   And then every time I take this god here, changing the perception of colors and time keeping them to himself and bouncing them, pulls them apart, and s'espandono around the square and its surroundings; and remains in the image that is spatial. You know it's the cathedral of Ferrara, Ferrara, and we understand that it is spatial. And beautiful. Almost a cathedral very nice in a world full desert of souls; world that goes, willingly, to fuck off.