To any artist, art is most of the times an uncontrollable compulsion that precedes everything else. The act of doing it transcends all the rest. No one chooses to be an artist, it simply happens. It is in our bloodstream, in our genes, and in our vast cultural heritage that goes millennia backwards. We are cave’s era survivors, where we were performing our duties and capturing the magic world that surrounded us through our strokes and drawings. The art is today, as it has always been, a vital need, and it is present in everything that surrounds us, in our garments, in our machinery, in our architecture, furniture, music, and in every other object or thing produced by the creative gesture of a human being.
Art manifestations are eloquent calls from our souls. We are all carriers of its beauty, its feeling of enchantment and its spirituality. No community can survive without its artists. And within the deepest roots of society, in every country or nation, reside the gestures that created all of our universes. All of us are artists, this world’s representatives of the “homo faber” – a manufacturer of things.
In every human being primarily inhabits an artist, because we are simultaneously art’s source and destination. An artwork can only exist as a self when it echoes our own feelings, when it can also find some rest in our deepest perceptions.