social media

Old Times

Good old days - 30x40 - 2023

Often we meet and greet people on automatic gear. There is no eye contact, no hugs, not even a hand shake. We talk but it’s all rhetorical speech, we have no intention to really know how the person is doing, what is making him/her happy or miserable. We blame it on our scarsety of time, not without it being true; the age of information has sucked our lifes to the scary times described by the genius Charles Chaplin on Modern Times. We live mechanically, working to surviving and surviving to work. Social Media have very little to do with socializing and even less on being a media, it is more like a dead end burden we feel obliged to attend and respond to. We are being slaved by our cepllphones. Special moments have been neglected to second or third priority, if at all a priority. We now get emotional by watching tiny videos on tiny screens, just before continuing all the meaningless compulsory activities that took over our days and lifes. It feels like we have no choice. We are exhausted and it feels like everyone else is living a better life that the one we are. It is difficult to choose what we want when we have to do what we must. The new phone, the new car, the new next thing that will grant us the new debt, but not the peace we should be gaining. Most of us are not even struggling about the fancy things, the majority of humanity is still trying to figure out where they will sleep tonight or what their next meal will be, if it will at all be. Where did we go wrong?
And how to step out of this madness?
Few of us have the luxury to plan ahead. Only for today I know what to do: I will paint. And tonight, for sure, I will watch Modern Times. It seems that the fella knew what he was playing about. Art has the answer, and hopefully it will redeem us.

Art: Goof old days – 30×40 – 2023 – In exhibition at Naivistit Iittalassa.

Luciana Mariano ©

The Fake News Inc.

We are subjects to fake news on a daily basis. We have been drowning in lies for way longer than it would possibly be considered normal. Lies are not, never normal. Nor healthy. It shows deep sickness in society. It disguises the lowest forms of manipulation for the benefit of a few. It is the sign of greed and evil in its most disgusting way. We are not only fed with lies, but we help to spread it, as a deadly virus. Corona makes fewer victims than Fake News. They say: “A lie, told a million times, become the truth” – but in virtual social media times, a few likes and shares are enough to sink deeply and overtake less smart brains and become a pandemic of lies and misinformation. People have no filter, not enough information and education to differentiate right from wrong anymore. We see poor people defending rich people´s interests. We see women obeying and complying to misogyny and prejudice. We see minorities allowing their opressor to absurd acts of cruelty and violence. Fake news become justifiable knowledge for idiots. And we see all of them worshipping the very knife that will stab their own flesh, sooner or later.

The dress


DifĂ­cil mesmo Ă©, depois de tudo,

encontrar delicadeza para rendas e laços

Buscar por cores que exprimam

Com doçura,

Serenamente

A dor de tudo que já se perdeu.

Hoje dormem encarcerados homens inocentes

Enquanto brindam corruptos

A certeza da impunidade.

O mundo está surreal

Mas a arte segue

Mentindo

Abstraindo

Assistindo calada

O fracasso do que Ă© bom.

No triunfo do que nem devia existir

Seguimos registrando figurativamente

Nossa prĂłpria mediocridade

Nossa ignorância

Nossa passividade

Diante do mal e do feio.

Caminhamos abnegadamente

Obstinadamente

Covardemente

Para o abismo.

Nem todas as sutilezas do mundo 

sĂŁo capazes de suportar 

tamanha insensatez.

Prosseguimos mudos

Vazios, catatĂ´nicos

Ou simplesmente alheios.

Postando selfies

Acumulando “likes”

Expondo nossa prĂłpria

Banalidade e embriaguez.

Persistimos na absurdidade

na obtusidade

dos assuntos alheios

das opiniões

nos achismos

Mecânicos, induzidos, seguimos

Na cegueira voluntária

Na fé paralisante do gado

No ego exacerbado do espelho.

Transformando em notĂ­cia 

aquilo que já a ninguém interessa

Toca

Convence.

Comove.

Seguimos incrédulos.

Brutalmente despertos 

enquanto assistimos a carne que expira.

Ouvindo o ensurdecedor barulho

do silĂŞncio dos isentos, 

que de isentos nada tĂŞm.

Nada tem.

Nunca tiveram.
Luciana Mariano (c)
*****
Harsh indeed it is, after all we’ve been through,

finding enough tenderness for laces and ribbons

Searching for colors that are able to express

Kindly

Serenely

The pain of everything that has already been lost.

Tonight, innocent men are being held in jail

While the corrupt are maliciously toasting

The certainty of their impunity.

The world is a surreal place

and art goes on

cheating

Abstracting

Watching quietly

The failure of good.

In the triumph of what should not even exist

We walk on.

Registering figuratively

our own mediocricy

our blessed ignorance

our raw passivity

before evil and ugly.

We carry on, selflessly

obstinatedly

cowardly

Towards the abyss.

Not all the subtleties of the world

are able to withstand

such foolishness.

We went silent

Empty, catatonic

Or simply oblivious.

Posting selfies

Accumulating likes

Exposing our own

Banality and drunkenness.

We persist in the absurdity

in the obtuseness

of other subjects

of our own opinion

Mechanically, induced,

we follow and obey.

In voluntary blindness

In paralyzing fear, like cattle

Morbid egos before the mirror.

Transforming into relevant 

What no long matters

What no longer touches

What no longer convinces.

Simply doesn’t.

We remain faithless.

Brutally awake

while watching the expiring flesh.

Hearing the deafening noise

of the silence 

of the exempt ones

They have never been exempt.

Not at all.

They never were.
Luciana Mariano (c)