Art, blessing or curse? For those spirits inevitably marked by this living wound, whose lives are subject to a certain type of devotion to things of feeling and thinking about feeling. Only those who live this way, and perhaps not even they, will know whether such a genre of existence is worthwhile. Because every love and every wound hurts more cruelly for them. And blood spills in verses and paintings, while raw matter, the earth, the walls, and the trees of their anxious and acute affliction, mock them everywhere. The artist's only purpose is to make art. And making art is organizing pain. Putting it into something. Cursing an object. The artist is a cursed one. A poor devil placed in this world to suffer, to gather every crumb of what is beautiful and desperately try to argue in its favor. In a fierce thirst of someone who knows what love is. Crossing deserts and labyrinths with this little lit candle. If every piece of what I believe is mine is nothing but a great mirage, oh God, at least this illusion is still mine. When I overflow, and I do that all the time, because I don't know how to be anything else, I inevitably hurt people and myself. That's my atrocious nature. To live is to suffer, they say. That's right. But it's even worse. To live is to suffer and make others suffer, and suffer for that too. At the bottom of every soul, there is a poor tormented ghost who is only happy when he loves. But we know well about love. It's a high price to pay. And the bill comes due soon.
// Oil on Canvas handmade painted by Susano Correia. The NFT represents the digital piece.
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