Seneca Wall is up!
If you see it, tell me!
🙂
painting
Seneca Wall
These are the pictures I made while painting my part of the Seneca Wall Project.
It took me one whole month to finish the work and it was great fun to do!
Some say it’s the largest collective art work mural in Europe (175 meters long).
Today, (july, 18th) is the final unveilling of the wall.
If you are taking a ride towards Wembley Arena, by Metropolitan or Jubilee tube lines, you may pay attention to this mural, on your left side… Just before arriving at the Wembley Park or Wembley Central Station.
I am already in Brazil, so, if you can, tell me about your impressions of it.
It will be great to hear what your thoughts about my work and the mural are!
Enjoy it!
Zero
O Louco
Vivemos confinados no viver. Compramos carros rápidos mas agonizamos no trânsito caótico das cidades. Temos pressa mas não sabemos direito para onde ir. Ouvimos falando e fazemos pensando. Amamos mas desconhecemos nosso espelho.
O bobo busca, e mantém um olhar inocente sobre o percurso. Desconhece os riscos, flerta com a sorte. Seu acaso o leva para terras distantes, desconhecidas e ele brinca com as possibilidades.
Vivemos fadados a morrer. E morremos, consentidamete, enquanto vivemos.
Mas sejamos jovens enquanto durar o nosso olhar. Sejamos livres enquanto existir a leveza, a beleza, a música. Dançamos, mas não sentimos o movimento. Devoramos o nada, engolimos o vazio e ainda assim nos lambuzamos, engasgamos na fartura do que não existe.
O bobo se enfeita, mas leva consigo somente o necessário. Apesar da longa jornada, há de carregar mais do que seus escassos e materiais pertences. Ele carrega a si mesmo, seus medos, o peso dos seus pensamentos. O cachorro, o alerta para a dor, mas não tem a intenção gratuita de ferir. Ele quer que o bobo se entregue e entenda o agora, preste atenção no tão-somente-este-instante, que tudo é. O passado é abismo, o futuro é ilusão e a viagem, esta obrigatória aventura, é uma fantasia, adereço colorido que brinca com o pó e com o vento. Acumula, envelhece, rasga, sem nada levar ou deixar.
The Fool
We live trapped in living. We buy fast cars and then agonize on chaotic traffic. We are always on a hurry and yet, we don’t know where to go. We speak while listening and we think while doing. We love, but we do not know our own mirrors.
The fool searches, and keeps a naive look at this path. He doesn’t know the risks, and flirts with his fate. Chance brings him to unknown, far away lands and he plays with the possibilities.
We lie, doomed to die. And we die, consentedly, while living.
But let’s keep ourselves young, as long as our curiosiity lasts. Let’s be free, as long as there s lightness, beauty and music. We dance, but we don’t feel the movement. E devour the nothingness, we swallow the emptiness and even so, we besmirch, we choke on the excess of what does not even exist.
The fool dresses up, but brings along only the absolutely necessary. On his long journey, he will carry much more than his few material belongings. He will carry himself, his fears, the heavy weight of his thoughts. The dog calls his attention towards the pain, it doesn’t intend to deliberately cause it or hurt him. It wants the fool to give himself in and fully understand the now, pay attention to the only-so-right-now that is all that there is. Past is an abyss, future is an illusion and the trip, this obligatory adventure, is only a fantasy, a colorful costume that plays with dust and wind. It accumulates, it ages, it gets ripped out and yet, it doesn’t bring or leave any traces behind.
Festival Naif de Katowice, Polônia
I am participating with 7 paintings!
Silent Noise
I am trying to keep a quiet heart while these days pass by. Excitement blands with deep confusion, and I go from desperation and anxiety, to solitude and ease.
One side of me is eager for whatever movement I can get out of each moment, while the other side is tenderly searching for the energy of each thought, trying to understand the delicate temperature of each feeling, every emotion.
I rather kill the beast that torments my dreams and crowd up my every attempt for peace.
But in order to do that I must keep calm and centered, which is the very opposite of what my soul is struggling to overcome. My shaky hands are trying to hold firmly on to that heavy shiny sward, while my fragile feed touch the unsafe and unstable ground beneath me. I focus on the silent noise that I can find deep inside my troubled mind and with eyes closed I try to conquer my enemy, so determined to drain my strength, and dry out my hopes, to crush down my spirit.
The soil is overheated and infertile, I know well this battle will not be an easy one.
I also know that fate is not an option or a for granted act of destiny.
I must continue believing and persevering, and also holding on to my pathway.
One day, all this evil will be a dusty and blurry memory, kept locked or dead enough to never bother me again. But until then, I will be counting on gigantic angelical wings to hold me in and keep me alive. I will count on innocence and dreams to keep my head above water and forbid me of drowning into my own tears. One day, hopefully, the devils inside and out will surrender to brighter days and allow my strength to rule my destiny. That would be nice. That shall be.
Noisy silence
It’s never been easy being me.
I want to be here but also there.
I need freedom, but also love.
I feel passion and extrem boredom.
I am a mess, and yet peaceful.
I look for movement and color and rest my head in dark quietness.
Because all things end
That’s how it is.
Good and bad – they all end.
Luckly… And unfortunately.
Sometimes time feels like an eternity… Other times it escapes as water between the fingers.
I wish I could play some more.
But I can’t.
Not enough money.
Not the right passport.
Not enough time.
I am always afraid when the good now seems to escape too fast into a not so funny now.
Tomorrow may never happen, but somehow it still haunts me.
I want to stay here.
I want my now to freeze and i want all problems to stay as far away as possible from me.
That’s why here and now feels so good to me… Because it’s all I have.
People are walking disappointments in its full potential.
Here and now I do not count on them.
Loneliness suits me well here and now.
I am going back to the past, where everything ended.
My body aches as it was begging to stay.
Here and now is pure uncertainty, but is better then before.
And I am afraid of going back to before.
I don’t want o play that game anymore.
If all things must end, let the things that ended be dead.
Let the now never stop being.
Because, in fact, it never does.
Scene
Two trees and then, one tree.
A green chair that doesn’t match.
Pink wall, confusing and yet warm.
Hanging beads, no wind.
Transparency and grace.
A lonely vase, with a lonely tulip, on a lonely window.
The white cat licks its paw, then it stops… What’s happening?
One hand, curious eyes… Where is she?
Excitement. Thrill.
(…)
Blue sky, quiet clouds.
Pearls falling from trees.
Toys that we never play with
Charms for luck. Superstition.
Blue sky, frozen clouds, empty horizon.
More beads. Hanging quetly. No wind. No movement.
(…)
Will i ever be found?
Will i ever be loved?
Where is he?
What should I do?
Where should I go?
(…)
Marine blue boots ready to go. Deep purple umbrella. Scarfs.
Silence.
……………………………………………………………………………………….
Duas árvores e então, uma arvore.
Uma cadeira verde que não combina.
Parede rosa, confusa e ainda assim quente.
Contas penduradas, sem vento.
Transparência e graça.
Um vaso solitário, com uma tulipa solitária, em uma janela solitária.
O gato branco lambe a pata e para… O que está acontecendo?
Uma mão. Olhos curiosos… Onde ela está?
Excitação. Suspense.
(…)
Céu azul, nuvens quietas.
Pérolas caindo das árvores.
Brinquedos que nunca brincamos.
Amuletos para sorte. Superstição.
Céu azul, nuvens congeladas, horizonte vazio.
Mais contas. Penduradas quietamente. Sem movimento.
(…)
Vou ser achada?
Vou ser amada?
Onde ele está?
O que eu faço?
Para onde vou?
(…)
Botas azuis marinho prontas para partir.
Guarda chuva de um roxo profundo.
Cachecóis.
Silêncio.
The way we clutter
Thinking about things we accumulate throughout our lives and the way we clutter our inner and outer spaces. Good and bad, ugly and beautiful, we accumulate a whole lot of residuals from our experiences, impressions and time. Sometimes it’s like a cloud of virtual information, some times it’s like a dark and dusty room in the basement of our thoughts and feelings. No matter how laid in nicely it is, it’s clutter. When we do not pay attention to the frailty of existance we tend to surround our selves with things that will “serve” us later. We feel protected in the mess of our collections of past time, events and acquisitions but it only makes the pathway more full of obstacles, the luggage heavier, the view less wide. It’s like buying a heavy expensive coat to use during the winter in Siberia… When you are heading to summer in the Caribbean. If you can: Let go! Life only hapens in the present moment and the clutter you carry on you almost never will be as usefull as you thought it would. Give room to the new, to the light, to the unknown of each present minute of life. After all, all that you possess is not really yours and all this shall also pass.
…
Pensando nas coisas que acumulamos através da vida e como atravancamos nosso espaço interno e externo. Bom e mau, feio e bonito, nós acumulamos todos estes resíduos das nossas experiencias, impressões e tempo. Algumas vezes é como nós acumulamos um monte de resíduos a partir de nossas experiências, impressões e tempo. Às vezes é como uma nuvem de informação virtual, outras vezes é como um quarto escuro e empoeirado no porão dos nossos pensamentos e sentimentos. Não importa o quão arrumadinho esteja, é desordem. Quando a gente não presta atenção na efemeridade da nossa existência, a gente tende a cercar nosso ego com coisas que nos “servirão” mais tarde. A gente se sente protegido pela bagunça das nossas coleções do tempo passado, acontecimentos e aquisições, mas isso tudo só deixa o caminho mais cheis de obstáculos, a bagagem mais pesada e a vista menos panorâmica. É como comprar um casacopesado e caro para passar o inverno na Sibéria… Quando de fato você está indo para o Caribe. Se você puder: desapegue-se. A vida só acontece no momento presente e a bagunça que você carrega em você quase nunca vai ser tão útil quanto você pensava. Dê espaço para o novo, o leve, o desconhecido de cada minuto presente da vida. Afinal, nada do que você possui é realmente seu e isso tudo também há de passar.
Something else is broken
Somedays, more than others, i loose faith in humanity.
Sometimes, randomly, i wish i could not feel everything straight on my skin, hurting my very flesh, taking away the hope and grasp for life like that. I know this days will also end and eventually I will again be numb about everyday events, happenings and life. But today life is not a fun place to be at.
Worry not. I do not have expectations on being rescued from me. Never mind. I can survive my own despair, my own hopelessness.
LMFS
PS: dear Hanne, somedays I don’t have faith on Him too… But that too shall heal. ❤
luciana mariano 