People, sometimes, ask me strange things about my work. First of all because painting is such a core part of me, asking questions about it, at times, sounds almost as absurd as “how many ears do you have” or “”why do you breath”. Of course people cannot know what role painting plays in my life, but one thing I can assure you: my paintings ARE me. That’s why I could never answer this specific question: “which one of your paintings is your favorite? It was like asking a mother which child was her most loved one or which one of my legs walked better. I simply didn’t have an answer… Until now.

Life gives us some rough rides and journeys sometimes and suddenly there’s no doubt about how or why a piece of coal becomes a diamond. Out of sudden, lots of the dreams you carefully carried around falls down like delicate china from a cupboard… It shatters into a million pieces of sense and significance, of bitter and sweet taste, horror or delight – or both.

When I painted this painting, in Germany, it was not clear at all. It just had no meaning. Its elements danced before my eyes like pieces of a secret puzzle and I had no idea why or how they had made it to the canvas. Each single drawing was there saying something that i could not see, understand, translate or put into context. Even the name, funny long one for such a tiny painting, was intriguing: “Departure or When you start looking like the furniture it’s time to leave” – yes, crazy title, yet very alegoric.

Now, after several months. It all came to me. Everything is particularly arranged and speaks a language that my heart hears loud and clearly. It all makes sense and tells the truth – the cold and raw truth in warm and nurturing colors. I never knew I could be so sincere to myself, or that life could be so cruel and yet loving. Listen, it speaks. Look carefully, it sings. Observe gracefully and it screams. It’s all there.

It makes me cry and allows me to laugh. It slaps my face, but also sets me free. It’s not easy being a woman, life is not as generous and kind as we hoped for. But now I finally have the answer: This is the most beautiful painting I have ever made.

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As pessoas, às vezes, me perguntam coisas estranhas sobre o meu trabalho. Primeiro, porque a pintura é uma parte tão central de mim, que fazer perguntas sobre isso, às vezes, soa quase tão absurdo como “quantos ouvidos você tem” ou “por que você respira.” Claro que as pessoas não podem saber que papel a pintur desempenha na minha vida, mas uma coisa posso assegurar: minhas pinturas SÃO eu. É por isso que eu nunca pude responder à esta pergunta específica: “Qual das suas pinturas é a sua preferida”. Era como perguntar para uma mãe qual de seus filhos é o mais amado ou qual de minhas pernas andava melhor. Eu simplesmente não sabia responder … até agora

A vida às vezes nos dá alguns percursos e viagens difíceis e de repente não há dúvida de como ou por que um pedaço de carvão se transforma em diamante. Do nada, muitos dos sonhos que você carregava cuidadosamente caem no chão, como delicada porcelana que cai do armário … Se estilhaçam em milhares de pedaços de sentido e significado, de doce e amargo sabor, horror ou prazer – ou quiçá, ambos.

Quando eu pintei este quadro, na Alemanha, não estava. Ele não tinha significado. Seus elementos dançavam diante dos meus olhos como peças de um quebra-cabeça segreto e eu não tinha idéia do porque ou como eles tinham chegado até a tela. Cada detalhe estava lá, dizendo algo que eu não conseguia ver, compreender, traduzir ou colocar em contexto. Até mesmo o nome, longo e engraçado para uma pintura tão pequena, era intrigante: “Partida ou Quando você começar a se parecer com a mobília, é hora de partir” – sim, título louco, mas muito alegórico.

Agora, depois de vários meses. Tudo veio para mim. Tudo está meticulosamente organizado e fala uma língua que meu coração ouve em voz alta e clara. Tudo faz sentido e diz a verdade – a verdade fria e crua em cores quentes e acolhedoras. Eu nunca soube que eu poderia ser tão sincera comigo mesmo, ou que a vida poderia ser tão cruel e ainda assim, amorosa. Ouça, ela fala. Olhe com cuidado, ele canta. Observe graciosamente e ela grita. Está tudo lá.

Me faz chorar e me permite rir. Ele dá um tapa no rosto, mas também me liberta. Não é fácil ser mulher, a vida também não é tão generosa e acolhedora como esperávamos. Mas agora eu finalmente tenho a resposta: Este é o quadro mais bonito que eu já pintei.
Luciana Mariano, 2015.

Have you seen these paintings? Let me know!

    

 

 
Title: Feeling marvellous, acrylics on canvas, 2015 – can be seen and purchased at http://www.galleriamaria.fi

Self-steem is a beautiful thing.

Love is a sublime feeling. If you are capable of loving others, much the merrier! But loving yourself must come first, and must be true. Nothing is worst than feeling unworthy of love and respect. Selv love is an inside job that usually takes lotS of painful, external situations to awaken the poor soul. Nobody can hurt a strong, self-loved and high selv-steemed person. No words of disaproval, criticism, insults, acts of disrespect nor humiliation can harm a person that knows her/his true value and worth. In fact, if you feel marvellous, nobody can harm you, break you heart or soul. I am not quite there yet, but I wish I was. I am still counting on that wonderful prince charming, the perfect gentleman, the real man to come along and sweep my heart away. Someone to hug me so tight that all the broken pieces will glue back together and I will be treated as I deserve, loved as I need. The thing is: only two wholes make a perfect match. And to be whole, self love is the only way.

John was right on “Mind Games “, love IS the answer.

  

The cat sleeps quiet and comfortably on the colorful armchair. On the floor: the red book. On the wall: a simple life. On the table: wine, time, beauty and a very urgent note: “Come and meet me.”

Life is not to be wasted.
Grab your opportunities.

  

There is only one chair, but two servings.

Flowers and a contemplative cat, waiting.

So many colors, so many dreams. 

Nothing is enough without love.

  

 

I am not sure

If it is

Good

Or bad

If it will

Save me or

Kill me

If it’s real

Or just a trick

Of my mind

A game for the body

A trap for the heart

An illusion

A dream

A lie 

Or a chance.

 
Where is home? Where is this place we long for being at, belonging, going or coming back to? The place where you feel most confortable and at ease. There where you have your things, your precious possessions, your furniture, clothes, objects, your pets, your people. Home includes tastes, smells, feelings, memories, sensations.

I think I don’t have a home, never had or I just haven’t found it yet. Maybe I will never find it. And then, again, life is so short and we can’t carry any of our belongings when we exit it. Maybe home is not a place but a recognition. Perhaps “home” is just a short trip, on a bumpy, adventurous road and it will only last for a few moments. 

I should probably just think less and enjoy the ride. 

 
The Great Land of Lost Opportunities is a tiny island in the middle of an unknown and secret ocean, usually secretly called Sea of Fear. The people who live there are used to worship the past and dream aimlessly of the future, in a way that no other people do. And they pass up, on a daily basis, on every single opportunity life insistently and tirelessly presents them, simply because they are not able to perceive their lifes in the present moment and recognize their luck.

I am glad I’m no longer trapped in that island.

I wish could help those souls to get off such a terrible curse, but the only magic that breaks this spell is the magic of self awareness… It’s not easy, but it is possible, and definitely worth the effort. Some times you will find yourself rowing back on that ocean, as the island silently calls you back to its warm sands… But you can fight it, bravely, as many times as it requires, and conquer back your freedom and presence. Some others have also escaped and survived the island and most of us have even got great success, happiness, love, meaningful lifes after understanding that we actually could choose differently, fiercely grab and realize some of the amazing opportunities graciously given.

Opportunities are gifts and it’s not at all a coincidence that they happen to be given in the present moment.

They are indeed, presents, treasures, small and precious miracles… Chances.

If you can, pay attention to them… If you dare, embrace them and embark on their journey. It’s all that takes to break the spell, flee the island and live an amazing life.
A oportunidade de ser feliz só acontece no momento presente. Todo o resto é uma ilusão.

 

Things never impressed me.

Position, fortune, status, titles only serve to hide the kind of poverty a person is, no matter how much they earn or achieve. Money can’t buy love, peace of mind, beauty of spirit. I have met lots of people with big houses, cars, bank statements, but sitting on very poor and limited hearts, souls, stories. I have seen the opposite too and drunk in the source of their humbleness and joy. Life is a funny dance, with unexpected music.

I want an interesting life.

Breathtaking sunsets in an idle tuesday.

Meals prepared with simple ingredients and fascinating intentions.

Touch. Long, sweet, warm kisses of passionate tenderness and accelerated heartbeats.

I want long walks. Deep conversations. Careless smiles, loud laughs.

I want that look into someones eyes, where I can see  further into myself and like what I see.

I have felt more comfort in a park bench than in a 5 star hotel.

I have felt more safe in the streets, in middle of the night, in a foreign country than in my own bed.

My real treasures I carry safely within and no one can take them away from me.

A thousand tears have washed my face but I still insist on the silent smile I feel when I close my eyes and open my heart. I may not be sure about the next minutes of my life… But I am absolutely sure I am deliberately wanting, choosing , searching (and finding) a happy, exciting and  interesting existence.

😘