World Literary Art Impressions Magazine no. 1

Love, the innocence of a child

Whatislove?

Ithinkthatallpeoplewhohaveeverlivedonthisearthhaveasked themselvesthesamequestion!

Ihaveinfrontofmeaglassofwine,thedrinkofthegods,ofthe Romans,oftheancientGreeks,butalsoof theinhabitants of today of which I am a part. I look at him intently and my thought flies to theuniverse. Every now and then I take a sip, and suddenly my ownsoulstartstalkingtome.

– Mistress, I want to go out on the highroadandshoutinthefourcornersof the world what you endured! I would speak to be able to remove all the bitterness you have accumulated over the years! To be free as the birds of the sky and the shining stars. May you embrace the sea and silently smell the peaceofdivinity!

Then,afterdrinkinganothersipofwineandtakingadeepbreath, Iputmyreasontothetestandanswerwithmyheart:

– My dear soul, I knowwhat you could go through andhow you enduredeverythingIcausedyou,butwhatIsufferedwaswithmyheart. Youknowverywellhowmuchlovehecanfeel!That'swhyitcausesyou so much trouble. I will explain to you through my reason what love meanttome.

Sorina Vîiu

Painting - TIBERIU MURSA

–LOVE:

–

It'sthosefluttersyoufeelthefirsttimeyouseeyourlovedone. Aftertouchingtheirwingsyourealizehowstrongthatlovewillbe;

– It is the desire that palpates alongside another heart in an immenserushtojoinhisdesire;

–

It is the deep longing and pain when this love is scorned, betrayed,liedto,andthataffectsyouespeciallydearsoul!

–Itisthepassionofabullfighterwhenhewantstodominatethat bull.Strongandfiery;

–Itistheseafullofwavesthatcaressyoubetweenebbandflow;

–ItistheentireUniversethatwecreatedbetweenthetwoofus. Thereweembraceinanotherdimensionwhereoursoulsareunitedfor eternity;

–Forme,loveiseverything.AndI'lltellyouonemorething:Iwill nevergiveuponlove!

–Sheisfulloftheinnocenceofachild,ofhistenderness,ofpurity. Itisthepeoplewhoturnitintoselfishness,tyranny,betrayal,lies.

–Itisavelvetyflowerwithdeeppetals.Iwilllookatherandhug herincessantly.Idon'tthinkIcangetenoughoflookingatitorfoolmy longingwithwarm,longinghugs.

Then my dear soul and full of passion, don't forget: "YOU STILL HAVETOLIVE"!LittlebylittleIfinishmyglassofwineandthehopeof anotherdayandanotherchancesmilingatmeonthehorizongrowsin me...

ManythankstoMr.TiberiuMursaforthiswonderfulpaintingand a glass of wine that were my muses of inspiration for this wonderful evening!

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Memory

Bruno Pollacci

Today is September 7, and on this day, in 1968, thepainter and sculptor Lucio Fontana died, founder of the Spatialist Movement, considered one of the most important exponents of Italian and international Contemporary Art. He was bornin1899inRosario,Argentina,toan ItalianfatherandanArgentinemother. Moved to Italy as achild, hebegan to work artistically in his father's sculptureworkshop.Sincetheendofthe 1940s he began to pierce and cut the canvases, creating natural hollows and reliefs and thus creating a direct formal and chiaroscuro relationship between surfaceandspace.

Consequently, with his work The work ends "representing" and beginsto"be",perse.Thisworkofmineinsanguineandsepiaisinhis homageandmemory.

Letter after silence

I would really like you to know that I am waiting for you in a dream,oneofthosedreamsthatstopsontheclock,sothatweareawake evenwhenwesleep.

Youareanaccidentofmybeing,themostwonderfulaccidentof lifethatcrossesmyvisionwiththesmellofrawapples.

You are the wholedesire that melts in me, distinguishes my joy andhappinesssothatthenasmilestopsonmylips.Justtheotherday, you used to trickle towards the black deserts, without guessing my turmoilfromthesilence,lettingmypathsdetachfromtheword.

I was alone with him and I mourned him on the edge of a book closedbygraycovers.Youwerelikeadanceinthedustofmymother's prayer,underthemountainsthatsilencedthekissbuiltinclay.

I only gave myself to the storm accompanied by apathetic accomplices,havingaswitnessmyfearandhoarsevoiceinthelightof rainsthatfledfromtheroots.

We were burning under the embers of banal plagues, we were both sacrificing the earth but at different poles, which controlled our breathandheartbeats.

Those moments were poisoned by horror and incomprehensibility, like the pain of a fog that has only regret as a memory.LaterIrealizedthatweliveinthesamegalaxythatsanctifies sins,flowsinaspirationsandintherhythmoftheclockface.

Ididnothingbutwaitforyouattheendofthehourlovingyou,as Ihavealwayslovedyou,evenwhenoursoulsfallpreytotheharshness ofthewhip.

Aurel Chiorean

The Forest

Midsummerstripswinterofitsmantleandchasesitintotheden. Hertimehadpassed,andnowshewasafrailandbrittledecayingbody. Frombehindthewindowinagreenhoodie,thenewprincessdrewback the curtain with the scent of pearl, snowdrops, hyacinths, violas and lilacs.

Apackofbudgieswasrunningwildlyonthebaldmountain,but alsoamongthekidsthatwerefrolickinginthepens. Shewasrunning, she couldn't find her rhythm, her breathing, well, she was also very exhausted. The hills had begun to be coveredwithlambs...

Theforestisnomore!

Wheretoputthepoorbuds!?There arealsomany.

Escapedfromunderthemurderous caterpillarofatankette,astump,asmall forest chicken, with broken ribs, could barely hold on to its roots. He wasstrugglingtogetup.

Hehadn'tevenmanaged todoit,towipehispain-wateredeyes, becauseabunchofbudssettledonhisforeheadwithpain.

Hefinallymanagestowipeawayhisrawtears,buthewasbadly frightened when the shadow of the forest ran away to look for his mother.

Terriblesituationofthepoorforestchick.Inthefearhewasgoing through,hedidn'tevenrealizethattheflockofbuds,havingnothingto reston,wastwistinghisnumbarmsinpain.

Puiu Răducan

LITERARY SPECIES - PROSE

Whereistheforestasksthelostshoot?

Can'tbelieveit! Whereis?

Healwaysrubshiseyesfullofdomestictearsanditseemstomake them...liars.

Theshadowoftheforesthadalso disappeared.Themistofbuds randownhisbackwithbumps.

Theforest!

Well,theforest,frightenedbythe snoring of the chainsaws, of the murderousbladeswithsharpteethand adullsheen,scuttledintotheirpockets. This is the peak, well, with you now!

How, which shots and pockets!? You don't even know what you voted for! What the hell, people! Are you wonderinganddon'tknowwhy?

Theforesthasfled! How soon thedoina, longing and thesongofthecuckoowillalsoflee. The tears of the thick bald mountains collect in the valleys and meanderdownhillamongcharacterless"implants". Irunandcry!

TheLord,walkingtheoldSUNintheGreatChariotintheskyina stripe, seeing the Carpathian disaster, wiped his blue eyes and asked him:

–Comeon,SUN!WherearetheCarpathianforests?

–Idon'tknow,God!Thehorsesofthedevil'sstudpouncedonher and chased her into thefields and into thepocket of Ghyury, Ioshka... andtheothers.

–Well,whatforestsdidIgivethem,well!

ThemoonwashiddeninthethicketsoftheSixforfearoftheLord, lestshebeaskedaboutthebutcheryinthemountains.

–Yes,whochasedawaymyforest,oldman,Soare?

–God,Idon'tknow!It'snotours!

–My,whatpeople,bad,my!Theychasedeventheshadowofthe forest.Whatharmwouldithavedonetothem!?

OhGod! Whereareyoumyforest,withyoursleepysong!

Be like a seuli

Swarup Sanyal

Be flower in this nature And fall down in the earth, Be like seuli in this autumn Bring loves in the heart.

Waiting for you I shall be shoulder, Not fear hear Come like a flower.

In shoots

Sleepy and still lazy traffic lights on without twilight sand and salt still in the shoes: slow recovery.

Between burning vine leaves and unripe grapes the autumnal dance starts; ancestral rhythm of awakening then tempered by a winter embrace.

Harvest of thoughts collected in sheets letters that we will never send slightly ajar drawers: September air of mild conscience.

Alessandra Sorcinelli Italy

Autumnal

Autumnal is The love in leaves It hides And on the lips are dripping The grapes picked By the hands of the beloved. * If you hear a rustle

Potable water

The breasts come out Under the kiss

To make the morning serene To gather in caresses Everything you thought And in your soul You shall Find me...

Even when sometimes The water is not so potable We still need water. That’s what is happening with the society We can not stay alone in the woods We need people around us.

Even the society is toxic We have to live in it.

Constantin Vaciu

Bogdana Găgeanu

Slow down

Don't go through life rushing, because you miss out of things that are worth watching. A blooming flower a dewy weed, a praying mantis, who didn't have time to lay in your hand, the flight of a ladybird, carrying letters to your love, the bluish light of the firefly, a mossy rock with moss for Christmas and a host of other things that go unnoticed even walking slowly...

Slow down, don't rush This race, no one can take Where do you think you're going in such a hurry? To the future? Want to take the front seat? You will arrive at the same time as the other one who is going slower!

Going through life running Is not physical exercise

Maria D. Reis

It's disrespect for life.

It's not disrespectful to yours for mine or the other's but disrespect for life itself! how can we ignore the avalanche of beautiful things what does it offer us? trust... Don't be so sceptical, it only creates wrinkles from frowning so much. In life's hard battles there is always an angel dancing around us, smile and be his pair Dance the life's dance according to the playing music whether it's a waltz, a kizomba, or any other. The more versatile the greater the probability of success.

Dance like you're dreaming... keep up with the pace don't miss the beat feel what you’re dancing for!

Bear a loss to achieve success

Book 'Rhythm Blossom'

Dr. Imdadul Islam India

While we pluck a rose, its thorns may prick us, Yet we always want to pluck heart and soul. While we do something good, funks may denounce, Yet a sacred heart always thinks for all. Caring the animals one may be hurt, Yet we cherish well to be fond of them. We love the nature's charms, yet deforms it. The why, we bear a loss to reach the aim.

Keen desires always want to gain success And don't envisage about the future. They also don't think of own miseries. But no success comes without adventure. Let's try to bring success for the mankind, Let's commit anything to please all's mind.

Learn practically is learning

Prof. Dr. Laxmikanta Dash India

Learn practically and pile it up meaningfully Meditating your sincerity rationally Transfer your knowledge and discern thoroughly Make your observation active and energetic regularly.

Repeat and recapitulate your intelligence successfully Lead the domain of wisdom with love skillfully Degree is not the criterion of learning basically Discern your clear understanding wisely.

Mode of teaching and training are important for learning Infuse your affectionate behaviour glaring Inquisitive attitude is necessary for enlightening Temptation their urge for self fulfilling.

Nurtures the pupils existence with educative skill Exalt their aptitudes by active will Inclusive education is the motto of learning Enlighten the students character for becoming.

Learning discern with clear understanding Imbibe the character and nurtures their willing Trained their habits with all consistency Habituated them with well proficiency.

Almighty adores altruism

Let me activate my agility

Having aegis of Almighty

For killing all brutal negativity

To prove my life for loyalty & fealty.

Altruism be the superem ism

Forbidding all man created isms, Receiving honourly profailantism

To make my life prove pollyannaism

Life is nothing but to show clemency

With sustainable knowledge of heresy

Leaving all nadir or malice or decency

Only to take shelter under God's mercy.

Let me pray God to make me a man of kind

Devoting in heart and soul for service of mankind.

Prasanna Bhatta India

Night never sleeps

It all starts from the evening As the birds return to their nests

The cool breeze blows The fountains and river happily flow The flowers dare to play The plants prepare their food The men and women retire from day's work

The moon makes it's glow The stars shines in the sky The nature does it's make-up The crowd of streets get reduced The rush in love joints increase

All become busy in their love and romance

It all continue for sometime Till all feel tired And desparately want to relax Slowly each and everyone retire And take rest with their sleep After disturbing the innocent night Leaving the moon and stars To flirt with the night Alongwith the fountains and rivers With their musical flow All torture the night With their joy and amusements In their respective ways And this beautiful innocent night

Lokanath Rath India

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

Tolerate everyone with it's silence

And it's pains grows deeper and deeper When being forced to increase the darkness That helps others to relax and sleep

Leaving this night alone

To remain aweken till the dawn And the innocent Night Never Sleeps.

Autumnal

Autumnal is The love in leaves It hides

And on the lips are dripping The grapes picked

By the hands of the beloved . *

If you hear a rustle The breasts come out Under the kiss

To make the morning serene To gather in caresses Everything you thought And in your soul You shall Find me...

Constantin Vaciu

The bridge

She is beautiful and thinks herself too clever

She has a world of enthusiasm in prolonged conversation She lived in the inaccessible magic house of words

The home is made and broken at her sweet will. The dense forest is the very embodiment of all that is pure. The precious stones are collected from the deeps of troubled ocean.

The bridge breaks down into pieces if sex intrudes on...

Such a woman can never make a good wife Yet she keeps standing with all her wiles

In spite of it, I know... I have a home

I, therefore, make my eagerness known and prepare for a new voyage...

How will we love the infinite?

How will we Love the Almighty?

How will we worship the Almighty?

This has baffled the spiritual seekers so much. For, Almighty is so great. He is not available in any form. He is formless, infinite.

How will we worship him?

He is the sweet master of the world. He takes so much care for all of us.

He is everywhere and in everything.

Though he is formless,everything is his form.

Tapankumar Bandyopadhyay

Dr. Maheswar Das

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

For he has lurked himself in all his creation. He is unknowable master of the world Human mind has no power to reach Him

All words fail to express Him.

To worship the creation is to worship the Almighty. We must extend our love to all the creation. He is the embodiment of his creation

To serve, to love the whole creation is the best form of worship to the Divine

He is filled in throughout the whole creation. Let us extend our love to all his creations Toserve his creation with love and joy is to worship Him.

Insatiable spirit

My mind is an unbridled animal, whirling around in the senses. All my desires,jump the ocean of pain, And, built up, innumerable skyscraper buildings,in paradise. Not a single mustard seed will fall, if sowed over it.

My own interest, If ever loses its existence, By the assault of the heel of the society, My inner fire burns in my blood.

Parents, friends, invite one by one, in this hut.

You may know. But I do not know.

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Rakhal Chandra Swain.Odisha India

When or if I will achieve, the heaven of my hope,, The centenary of my mind.

Or, by the curse of insatiable spirit, I will die in the mortal world, Leaving behind, All the assets, Gathered, accross the whole war of life.

For morsels

Some incidents really leaves mark with knowledge, Born and gradually grown up in a small village, Where the acute proverty paralysed people 's life That seemed me it was being split with knife.

Small boys and girls loitered with bowls and made sound for food, I thought the cook would come to prepare food as they stood, In a big frying pan plumbum of body slowly soddened, The sight of the cooking made them much maddened.

Disturbed, the cook rebuked some of them harshly Pauper faces drooped for a while as she behaved roughly, Though energy of body pooped out to the small bowls, Like in a farmhouse corns scattered to the hungry fowls.

Limited quantity of food served to fill the every tummy, Abundance of wealth nicely used to preserve mummy, Those who are in such conditions know real hunger, Unfed heart always bears suffering and pain with anger.

Amar Singh India

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

Helpless eyes see lovely dreams of golden affection, In the world their questions and answers with rejection, Stringent some samples handles their own policies They repress the true talks and ban some rallies.

Selfishness

has betrayed you One thousand times I begged you to let me go away Why you didn't believe me if I was crying all the time?

Selfishness has betrayed you led you astray without a shred of faith that I would have run away. I have my head down on the hands to protect me from the frost that you left inside me.

I then compel myself to keep watch so as not to go over

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Stefano Capasso Italy

that Unknown Love that sooner or later will have to arrive to try to awaken my heart precipitated in a restless vortex.

Metropolis

Strange forgotten house tetra area a hidden one, behind the curtain maybe a dead woman, but she moves and walks away, with metallic step the automaton watches us.

A unique phenomenon it is the science that plots. But underground there is a woman who prays, she instills hope, it's her role, mind and body a single league, he is ready to follow the people.

The broker has arrived him long awaited has manifested itself. The past has led a breeze of joy I look forgotten in that narrow gray symbol of poverty.

Franco Carta Italy

In shoots

Sleepy and still lazy traffic lights on without twilight sand and salt still in the shoes: slow recovery.

Between burning vine leaves and unripe grapes the autumnal dance starts; ancestral rhythm of awakening then tempered by a winter embrace.

Harvest of thoughts collected in sheets letters that we will never send slightly ajar drawers: September air of mild conscience.

Without you

It's impossible for me to pull myself together

When my thought runs to you In vain I try to tell my heart He doesn't listen to me anymore

It is impossible for me even to live Without you being there by my side To be able to tell you in one I love you If I could I would come to you

Alessandra Sorcinelli Italy

Alessandra Sorcinelli Italy

But I can't move today

I don't know the way anymore, it's too far But God lets me dream And to always put you in the Sign of the Book

Even if in life everything is possible Love and Death all in one place

To reverse my fate is impossible It was possible that I was just unlucky

It's impossible for me to lie to you, you know But maybe God works a miracle You can come to me one day The Book Sign should have a name

Even though I know the name now But it is impossible for me to say it But it is never too late On the Sign of the Book I love you now

It is impossible for me to live like this I'm still looking for the path between evil and good I wish I could pull myself together though But this is impossible without you.

The light of hidden hope

Crushed country under the sun with teeth, To reason, heart, immune, The queen's crown, put on her lie, Hardly sold for only two silvers.

On the water of Saturday everything that collects... Torrent magnet only of tears, sighs, I sprinkle with doine through the winds to the good, The rich are waiting from the moon.

And the wind scatters broken dreams From the labyrinth, the bloody exit Our slopes are hard, steep, Trust in the Copts to fight us.

We fly blindly towards ever Is the light of hidden hope dead?

"The New Genesis"

In Genesis they held hands together, a Paradiso in unity, love abounds the Tree of Life stood in their midst Prohibited by God to get near to it.

Nelu Cazan Romania

Salomeea Romanescu Romania

Cast away, they walked to the ends of the Earth, Reincarnated lives continue to haunt their souls The Tower of Babel they built to reach the Heavens But God forbade them and off they fell down.

The Great Flood came, vanishing lives in an instant,

A New World emerged, a new age daring flight

The New Adam and Eve built an empire, Worked hard to achieve whatever they desire.

The haunting of the past continues it's saga, Plagues kept testing the spirit of humankind

The parted Red Sea of blood was a catalyst, In sending people to a new Promised Land.

But still man was discontented, Money and riches were all on his mind Greed over power to him was an adventure, Until came the Day of Rapture.

Pandemics can alter the lives of many But not all can experience the Epiphany, What if all these only test our faith? And that the dawning of a new Genesis is at hand?

Tomorrow we can witness a brand new beginning, Full of hope that we can all survive That the weary will have confidence in himself, And the sick will be healed in time.

The universe has moved into banks

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo Philippines

school started today goodbye vacation, with loves scattered on the hills in the fields, on the mountain and the sea, hello school, Professors, female teacher – Trees with roots in our dreamscolleagues, future fathers and mothers, we start with new forces another school year when we multiply like flowers in spring. We don't want the dreams and madness of others but let's discuss important things about thoughts and loves abyssal and the only mask should be the mask of indifference. Let's find the teachers much understanding patience, they who lend for us the sky rains. From the parents we want patience and much love, for them

and for us ring the church bells Sunday.

Short time passing

You just looked when I came I just turned when you passed we didn't have time to say even a word of your face between the other faces always passed so fast like the wind passes exactly the day changes like the grass always blooms like rain occasionally pouring like clouds marching away the sun is stunned so fragile the meeting nothing is left but we still meet we will not look back let alone there are forbidden fences that distinguish the story in the eyes of the wave in my chest you for a specific purpose there I'm with my own affairs here whoever you are, it's not important

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Viorica Crecan Romania

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

but the smell of the fragrance left behind reminds me of someone he's also long gone as fast as this world. So sweet is the smile

Dusmanta Choudhury Malaysia

So sweet is the smile That blooms on her lips Cheers when I am vile A nexus, she never snips

Embrace me her words So sacred & so divine Purifie me as she herds And kill my earthly sin

Bathe I in her affection

That is as pious as pure Alters my body so often To be rich in divine lore

Dances also my heart in joy With her sweetest calls Joyance in her calls does lie None gets within four walls

What a moon that shines

In vast sky of my mind All life long,never defines How much she is kind

PaintingByDr.GhafarBahari

The right moment

Dunes tamed by the wind bloom, they proceed with sandy steps slowly. And tonight, on the full moon, they will meet the path in the waves going. Magic is springing from the sea in that time, when among the silver glossy dunes, as in a mirror streaming, the moony path is reflected in shine. It is time to send back the past, the moment for a new beginning.

Instant of heaven

In the middle of strawberry Sunday, among the blissful steps of the evening, amid the mystery of your smile, I snuggle at your arms and I thrill slightly, so much heat almost is burning in this strawberry night but I still tremble, I become a part of your moon. And we are staying like that, so quietly, and we only hear our breaths. And we think that Sunday is just for us.

Dessy Tsvetkova Bulgaria

Dessy Tsvetkova

Great Zero and Atom Bomb

Sunil Bairagi

Technology is living light but when it is used for war then Gene carries evil force generation after generation.

Technology is the benediction of nature. Sage collects it from nature by his/her drastic perseverance. God particle is more infinite powerful than Atom bomb. So war is unable to win the willforce of living light. Who make war, within their evilforce is grown and that is their premature death.

In the space within crores stars atomic explosion are being held. We can learn from there that great zero is more powerful than Atom bomb.

Having destroyed nature don't try to be made more powerful than nature. Because, War is suicide power.

Autumn with kiss

I should deposit for the winter Good thoughts Sweet paths Autumn comes with the kiss Over the leaves Across the meadows I wish that you bring now Flowers in trees And sun in my hair I wish to hold you Near my chest with longing But you, Autumn, Bring the rain And the rust from the wooden bathtub You bring wine And ripe apples And during the night, You bring whispers.

Vasilica Zaharagiu

The rhymes of Dante

Capasso

Dante's first poetic production consisting of a collection of 54 lyrics,dividedinto34Sonnets,13songs,5balladsand2sestines.

Oneofherlyricsentitled:

"Three women came around my heart"

it reminded me, with melancholy of spirit, of his thought on Justice, which was of an ethical, Moral and Juridical Nature

Divine Justice, however, it had its highest roots in GOD

Then the Poet asks himself:

How come a Just God would allow that Evil men continue to ignore and betray his message of Truth?

Finally, he explains that even Evil has its own finality because, necessarily,itisattheverybasisoftheFundamentalPrincipleof"FREE WILL"

However he then he specifies that there is a distinction between the Divine Justice and the Earthly Justice which does not constituteaduplicateoftheDivineone.

Stefano

For the Supreme Vate, HELL more than punishing the person, punishestheAction,thatistheViolenceitself,somuchsoastoreport inhisDivineComedy: For every evil action, a penalty is attributed in proportion to its gravity.

The Bright Path

Assigned to Us from a Divine Mind

Thoughtful and Troubled the Mind wanders, anguished in the face of merciless tragedies that overwhelm the world.

An indignant Wind up high takes me, to realize of the terrible madness than with poisonous ruin hovers in every scenario of a poor world.

Don't cry, WOMEN for these ailments, if mortally you feel hurt, from merciless violence.

Up there, for sure, will be waiting a Severe Justice. You help us

The last color of things (11/09/2001)

You will rise, you will rise no more towers, but stems, prayer’s lilies – Mario Luzi

It's a Tuesday in September, the streets drunk by the season, the nose to pierce the air, as if it was searching for that smell, of the limitless and amniotic fluid, of the half sleep next to it, thoughts across the heart, anxiety, and the sidewalks while exhaling the silence of the coming and going, the fast, almost flimsy, spaces of the steps, dreams tied to the knot of the night, the one I promised myself to be the last cigarette, the noises, and their overlooking the loneliness of the city, me feeling like a stranger when surviving is an act of love.

Death is a sudden mother, walking barefoot, head bowed, that awakens our name from every pore and its story, strips its body, fills mouths that have lost their shape, silences the song of time, cancels that weightless tick-tock that saturates even the rain, invents insomnia’s fantasies, far from here, and cheats the memory, and denies the land when tomorrow is a doodle of waiting.

Davide Rocco Colacrai Switzerland/Italy

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

They will talk about us, when dawn has bitten the harvest of flames, after the pain has sated and the last prayer reached the after they will talk about us, when the blue has gathered our limbs, after the blood has washed the day and the rubble saved the last color of things.

As kisses we will bloom behind the infinity, between the wind and the word, where beauty is not in a hurry. It was a Tuesday in September, or slowly and imperceptibly it was.

He waited for me

Usha N. Shrinivaasun

Lived I in an old fashioned village of Shropshire Where each house had a letter box on its frontier Where the postman would drop.our mail into its depths And later we would retreive it from.its post box red containers wefts

A score of years passed and to.the city my husband and I did migrate Retired from my job and with my husband dead back to the village I did relate That day the postman had dropped the mail a letter had got caught in a the mail box So I had to.dig it out and so I opened the locks

Along with the stuck mail another letter yellowed with age surfaced Surprised I opened the letter dated twenty years based

It was a letter from Brian who those days wantef me as his consort As he proposed on his knees with a single red rose store bought

Now for the letter and its contents I wanted to see With trepidation I.opened it and wondered what it might be It said " My dearest darling my only love Emily I love you to distraction and do you love me

I think not as you are about to become anothers wife I wish you well my dear be happy forever without strife May you always acheive whatever you wanted from.life Even though in my heart turns a knife

You memories are enough to.pull me through If ever in.your life you need me come to me, you

In my heart a picture of you I drew And that forever will give me solace true"

Shocked but not unpleasantly so To the address given I did go There he was Brian as tall.and lanky as he was a score of years ago Recognized me immediately and with a loving glow Held out his hands and I rushed Into them all aglow

He had been waiting for me all along unmarried in his mind he had wedded me indeed An un opened letter has such a tale to tell and our mind to feed And in uniting a lost love it did succeed

In the drama of laughter of the world... Maruf Sheikh

In the laughter of the world

Thirst is hunger. Education is not limited to textbooks.

Hunger says; “I will give real training! Your stomach is your organ. How many imaginations? All ages lose their spirit, find yourself to regain that spirit."

When you can't stand it

Even a small piece of dog bread is stolen from the dog's mouth.

Just because of people's attitude As a victim of human conspiracy.

So many writers

The tears of many novelists are rain. what about the rest They write everything!

Some poets, some painters; Poems written from bloody wounds, Documentary history of memory. Whose benefit is this?

Some people with higher education If or is great Or they want to do something good

At that time only the educated with a violent temper prevented it, but why? what do they want

Only one portion of rice is eaten for ten people. May others be like the starving patients. Is it true?

Sheikh Saheb said: “Lately, I have seen crowds of thousands. It seams.

A herd that roams like countless pigs. Smile on the face but violence from the inside. And, Some people see it from afar

When I let go of the sails of the boat. People suck a lot of blood during the day. A smile from the pain on the face, but this fake smile is burning inside from the double hunger.

But some fanatics Famine is making those people. For the inhabitants of the world If not otherwise, at least foreign financial aid can be obtained."

"The reality of hunger burns the stomach, The reality burns people's lives."

The riddle of the words you keep quiet

Selma Kopić

Bosnia And Herzegovina

The riddle of the words you keep quiet is tormenting my soul. Uncertainty fuels the flame of my love, while yours is inevitably extinguished. I sadistically enjoy my torment thinking I deserved it. The fear of losing you takes away my ability to hear, to distinguish the signs, to understand and accept. I'm looking for those eyes of last spring, one sunrise, sea and pines. Then, suddenly, the film starts to roll too fast... What happened? In an instant everything disappeared: joy, light, love and life!

The separation

In your separation, My heart is broken. After losing you, What's left is close to losing.

Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

Memories today, I cried silently. How can I forget, You are still in my heart today. Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

Tears in my eyes, Floats the chest. Yet the fire in the chest is not extinguished, It's burning inside.

Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

This is the curse of my destiny, Received the reward of love. This was finally destiny, I will cry with love forever. Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

Sumon Zaman Bangladesh

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

How many dreams were in two eyes, Built the house of happiness together. Embrace me, said that day, you will never leave me. Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

Broken dreams, broken hopes, Why go away?

Don't think about me once, How to live alone in this world. Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

In your separation, My heart is broken. After losing you What's left is close to losing. Everything is over, In my life, in your separation.

Need Wed

In a poetic meet, Question bubble, About wed pursuit, Frustration trouble.

Era that aspire tall, Contentment slide, Relations kick ball, Gone days tie wide.

Done garb layer glee, So long persist wreath, Crisis clamour do flee, Branded love lost breath.

Orgasm early desire, Tender age burly taste, Hug caress coitus fire, Meaning marriage abet.

Fashion,ambition care, Position status firm grip, Tension illusion o dare, Break,quit confuse deep.

Dearth bread o butter, Worth wedding crack,

Dr. P. C. Jha.Namsai India

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

Rags value do shatter, Promises prove fake. Market baby flourish, Trafficking o through,

Shown media astonish, Mentality alters grow.

Inbetween fun sex, Maximum born baby, Most carry run max, Proportion turn shabby. Beggary on public spot, Made orphan by greed, Involvement crime pot, Grade obscene indeed.

Lust parents surmount, Sacrifice love look nil, Discard kid mercy fount, Fate food He took fill.

Spiritual knot did loosen, Rather mundane claim, Boredom breeds burden Who bothers whose pain.

Stuff compile tag well, Most hollow apply not, Condition tummy if swell. Fantasy dream supply rot.

Excess riches hunger, Ethics humanism shun, Oppress generous trigger, Equality mess murder gun.

All fun merry marry cage, Confines palace off well, Poor exist drag soul page, Die times basic needs fail.

Despite sex sake wedlock, Poor rich society establish, Animality could be at fork, Humanity deck page polish???

The road to infinity

With locks in the cool autumn wind I started the journey to the unknown! Leaving behind a stormy and difficult summer Which splashed me with big lumps of clay.

Stormy clouds with heavy cold rain, They were life companions in the past! I had a black cape on my shoulders, What pressed my breath to the ground.

In my hand I hold the box of past memories I chained them and the lock of oblivion! Now I tread life's traveling lines,

Sorina Vîiu Spain

LITERARY SPECIES - POETRY

With a heart smiling at the sweet path of love!

My gaze is fixed on the horizon and the sun, The warmth of life embraces the voice of my soul!

The fliers who began to fly again, I thank God by prayer!

Shine as sunlight

A feeling that won't let me stop

Shine as sunlight and bloom as flowers In search of love

Most people lose a loyal companion

So what will the wise do here?

We will meet and say goodbye

Eyes flooding as flowing waves We will see each other for the last time

I have stopped regretting being wise Nor burn as a lamp in search of light Without the ocean, waves and loving Mermaid Neither a poet nor poetry exist

Watching you from distant is enough Your thinking will complete me

We will meet and say goodbye We will see each other for the last time

Anjum

Farhan

Unforgettable memories

Behind the memory I wake up Past treasures find me again

I went through everything, at least I remember With all passions I only deceive myself. Go faster because you're just a memory

Sabina Virginia Gliga

That everything that happened to him was enough for me

Even happiness now terrifies me I had strength and it calms me down. Now I would live until it ends

As it is, I would take everything with me And the Sun from above seems to be more beautiful

And the flower field is more lovely. That everything is fleeting and quickly gets ready

And the obstacle in life always passes But when you see it past, nostalgia comes Even if you feel good, only anger remains. Good and bad memories of you

If they are passed, there is no point That it's only the present and it's so beautiful And everything that surrounds you is more loving. And good things pass quickly, they are ready Everything is fleeting, only a stain remains Your life is marked even if it is past His soul is joyful but the pain is great. Right reserved by the author!

Night Sun

The sun rose twice first in the morning usual and nice as ever And then at night there again rose the sun this time with an unprecedented smile and a bun Night sun wore a luminous smile that covered Earth mile by mile Oh God I saw the hottest sun right in the middle.of the night Alas no sun could ever be watched by a single man as one of milluons of spectators I had to accept being a fan

Yusuf M Khalid

The gift of autumn

A broad-winged rooster taps my cracked temple Of the whirlwinds of autumn, where it is, more and more often, rotated, The tear of the rain breaks my cobblestone full of dreams, Shaken by harsh winds, from the quiver of detached clouds.

He takes my tender flowers from the leisure of years, To paint the horizon in pastel colors... Autumn butterflies hide in summer burrows, Angry at the day that is lost in the evening.

The yellowed leaves are crushed under the heavy footsteps Of lost lovers, in sweet whispers, in alleys... Nostalgic memories flash on the retina, From the past immersed in a sea of rust.

Autumn entered my soul, through the unlocked window Of the burning heart, which carries heavy longings... I'll get used to her and the fog in her eyes, But brought for my eyes, to clothe them in brightness.

Felicia Perec

Ever-Brighter Within!

Gazing up, observing beautifully glimmering distant stars Shimmering majestically, in blue oceanic skies

Seeing thy heavenly lights, shining eternally bright Unaware heavenly light emanates from deep within My very own, essence of soul

Help me, Lord, and Master, I beseech thee To seek, to find, the everlasting beaming light Of purest harmoniously streaming, love’s compassionate peace Eternally glowing, exponentially ever-brighter - within!

The lovers paradise

Where at midnight moon dispels the bodily cristal due to amorous enjoyment of Seeing the beautiful place on the lap of the mountain As if on the lap of lover With clothes like white water Of the stream sleeping down The beauty of nature prevails Everywhere in the city with A lot of multi coloured flowers With their beautiful fragrance The rainy season bears a multitude Of water showering black clouds

Clive Norman

Dr. Suresh Chandra Sarangi India

Like a lady with black hairs. On the head set with pearl strings. Where the cloud licking palaces With bright women with smiling faces With coloured pictures, having drums struck for music To enjoy with couples, And with well polished surface With compare themselves. By the virtues with high shinings Having lightening entire city The ladies have to play With different games.

Hark with care

Fairy, fairy, oh fairy, hark with care, You are beautiful, you have full freedom, Please come in our hamlet, kindly come here, You can fly everywhere, sharp your wisdom. I'll give you sweets and sandwich with kefir, You can also stroll here and there for days, I'll give fancy garments of green colour, Will you not come in our house for joys?

Fairy, fairy, oh fairy, hear me well, I'll offer you all of me for your glad, But, want your wings, in sky to stray and dwell. The Lord does not gift it to make me pleased. Will you donate me your beautiful wings? If you agree, I'll thank your true feelings.

Dr. Imdadul Islam India

Delicious thoughts words

Adam Żemojtel

I put off sleep for tomorrow because I want to live another journey that will never end I will walk every hour of my life let heart and soul be united forever let the night become my sister of the day every season of the year will be friendly to me let the wings of dreams fully unfold before the eyes of death fall asleep a shadow

I love you, life, although you make me unpleasant though the logs keep falling at my feet it is good that you do not bleed my heart because joy also happens to me let the cliche of life go round without stopping let him give me the strength to survive may God ordain my every second so that I could write down my emotions in poems

I will not fall asleep tomorrow either because I do not waste time it is so sad to waste running minutes especially when the sunny weather in my soul and legs still eager to put on shoes

i love you life - it is a sin not to love it is wonderful to be able to speak, think and breathe it's great to be able to overcome obstacles Listen to the heartbeat even though you can't see it.

Good forever

Thousands of words you utter, You maybe everyone's best today, But, if one from the thousands is bad, You would be remembered for that - one.

Like the sound that travels through the waves, Across all the mountains and oceans, Until the last horizon, it keeps traveling, Touching the sentiments of all you know.

Back again, when it bounces upon you, In thousands it comes; right into your heart, Pinching deep, not even can you realize, What blunders you have made in disguise.

Better stop, or spell to keep the heart upright, ‘Cause if you don't, you'll stay good forever.

Intertwined dreams

I entwined my dreams on the path that winds up, towards the vault fed with light the wind shatters my soul

I walk desolately through the clearing where the silent leaves rustle and trees wrinkled by time, leans to one side

they tell their legend soft thought sensations, late autumn smell enter the mind gently floods my sense of smell, easy transition between twilight and stillness, Woven in a garment of shadows.

Santosh Kumar Biswa

Lenuş Lungu

Autumn, Portrait of Lydia Cassatt, 1880

By Mary Cassatt

The natural cycle of life or healing from the cold

By Petre Ioan Crețu

Likeaboatwithasoultossedinastorm,Irecentlytriedto swim tothelastdropofmoistureandthentoleavemyselftothewillofthe seainalastgesture,agestureofthepeople,evenIadmit,thenIsawthe bottom for thefirsttimetheseathestars of thesky sleepinglikesoft flowerstogetherwiththesilenceandsomememoriescollectedatnight bythechildangelsfromthemouthsoftherapidriversthatkeeprolling downfromthemountainslikethemightyandjumpfromtheshoreinto thedepthsandthegreatlightfranticallytowardsitsdepthssometimes to the bowels the earth sometimes even up to the sky I kept floating abovethesleepingstarsuntilIgotcoldandIstartedtocryoutofspite cryingneverhurtsjustdrylikeasirenaforeignvoicewhisperedinmy earitsoundedmonotonoussleepholdmebyyourhandandyouwere sleeping and my eyelids were hanging heavy like lead difficult, very difficultImanagedtobreakawayandIreachedyouonthesheetlying onthesandshiveringwithfearandcoldIbarelymanagedtowhisperto youIloveyoutodeathevenifitdidn'tdomeanygoodatnightyouwent toseewheretheyoungseagullshadnested,whichduringthedayhad justflownforthefirsttimeintheirlives,thestarsshonesoftlyinthesky withoutyouknowing.

Wooded Path in Autumn, cir. 1902, By Hans Andersen Brendekilde

Excerpt from the book

Zoran Radosavljevic Bosnia and Herzegovina

STUMBLING ON YOUR OWN LIFE

HowlongwillIlive... justtoday...TodayI'mproud...becauseI've beenmakingmistakesallmylife...that'sfinallycomingtoanend...It's my turn too...that's thepuretruth even thoughit's painful and sad... I wishIneverlived...Iwantdeathtohurtme...todieofpain...themore paininthisworldthelesspaininthenext world...Iwanttoleavethis worldbecauseofalifecalledalie...Iwillscreambeforethedarkforces grab my hand... remember when at night you hear cries from the heavensitismesacrificingmyselfforallyousinners...

Slowly as the night comes... I am more and more honest with myself...finallyIwillfeelpureperfection...finallysomeonewillclosemy eyestoo...Ihopeitwillbeherhand...Iwillstandatthegatesofheaven... lookingatthecreatorstraightintheeyes.

Whatfollowsisnotmylaststop...Iwalktothetrain...schedulefor heaven... full train... miraculously there are no reservations or conductors... I realized that eternity does not exist... eternity is in people's heads. .to separate from their oblivion everything that is unreasonabletothem...andreal...Neoitisanecessaryrightforpeople tothinkofthemselvesasgodsandwhentheycometoGodinfrontof the truth they realize what an absurdity they were living in... What a messwecamefromthewater...theyputyouintheground...andyougo toheaven...Theyburyyoudeeperandyoulookdownonthem...Assoon asIwasbornIbecameaman...howIhatethatword...thereisnogreater animal than man...only foolsareGod's luckyones... their lifepasses in joy...Ihavespatonmymindmanytimes...Idon'tneeditanymore…my handsarebloodyfromdiggingintomysinfulwounds...myinsidesturn fromsomanylies…whatrulestheworld...thisisthesongofmadness... IwilldieandIwillrepeatitamilliontimes...andtheendoftheworld will come with my end... I will go to the deepest abyss of your nightmaresandwhileIamlaughingyouwillnotknowifmylaughteris realityorfantasy...

Biography

Giovanni Teresi

GiovanniTeresiisawriterandlover of art in all its aspects, he has published several poems and short stories. A contemporary painter and sculptor of greatvalue.

GiovanniTeresi(Marsala,1951)isa retired professor of Business Economics and Legal and Economic Disciplines. He has published several poetry texts and shortstoriesinnationalandinternational magazines.Heparticipatedwithhisown paintingsinthecollectivepaintinginthecityofBreno(BS)from1983 to1986,receivingdiplomasofmeritandvariouscertificates.Atthe3rd National Competition "Marine Painters" - Augusta 15/05/2002, the Historical Office of the Navy awarded him the Diploma of Marine Painterforhispictorialwork"Hovercraft".

Itispresentintheanthologycollection Poetryisadreamedited by Fulvio Castellani. In 2005, the Italian Cultural Institute in Naples receivedtheinternationalprizeforPoetryandLiteratureNewLetters XVI Edition for the work Pellegrini. In 2006 he published, with the contributionofICI,LagrandetraditiondesMuses. His other books of poetry in French are: Rêve les yeux ouverts, L'universdel'âme,L'îleenchantéeparlechantdelalune;lyricaltexts cataloged in the main national and foreign libraries. In 2007 he publishedwiththecontributionofMaremmiEditori(FI)Mitulsipoezia and for the editor Bastogi the historical essay About the Carbonari

movements of 1820-'21 in ItalyLittle known events and followers oftheperiod.

Since 2011 he is an honorary member of the Association Rencontres Européennes Europoésie based in Paris and President of the Francophone Delegation in Sicily: Marius Scalési. He collaborated with the magazine LatinitasfromCivitateVaticana.

On April 12, 2013, at the second Scevola Mariotti International Latin Poetry Contest, announced by the Pontifical SalesianUniversityofRome,hewonthefirstprizewithMagnaLaude for hisreligious versesin Latin. Heis president of thePuntoCentrum Latinitatis Europae from Marsala, a Cultural Association based in Aquileia, for which heorganizes Seminars andConferences on GrecoRomanLiterature.

OnSeptember23,2017,hewonthe International Prize "Literature, poetry, non-fiction and fiction" for Sect. original poemwiththelyrics"Thejuggler".On12 November 2017, the Academy of Sicily awarded him the title and honor of Academician of Sicily for Literature. On July 23, 2018 he obtained the Liolà National Award - Tribute to Luigi Pirandello, an award ceremony organizedbytheAcademyofSicily(PA).

"Sirena" (Giovanni Teresi)

"Mulini al vento con aironi"

European Paintings, Cutouts & Robots:

An Interview With William Brown

WilliamBrown’sartistic practice pushes theboundariesofwhat constitutesartandintheprocess,transformsthewayinwhichhiswork iscreatedandconsumed.Brownstartedasaphotographerintheearly 1970s after his graduation in psychology. His work merges elements frommediumsasdiverseasfilm,sculpture,painting,andphotography.

He is currently working with Art Matr in Red Hook, New York which is the creator of the most advanced robotic painting system to date.Readontogaininsightintohisamazing,creativeprocess.

William Brown:Hell.

SAH:Howwouldyoudescribe yourstyle?

WB: I'm basically a montage artist whose style is confounded with the technology I'm using to create oil paintings. This way of working started when I was interestedincreatingtruealeatory paintingsasdescribedbyJohnCage and others. I realized I could put photo images in film editing softwareandrandomlymergethesebythethousands.Ithenselected themostinteresting.I'vebuiltupalargeinventoryofthesethatcanbe painted by thepaintingrobotdeveloped by Art Matr inRed Hook NY. Thesecanbeviewedonmywebsite.

After developing a large body of digital aleatory works (20192022)Idecidedtocreateaseriesofmontageworks(2021-2022)based on readily available public domain artwork. I download these images from museum sites and cut out what I call high emotional valence imagesfromEuropeanpaintings(1500-1900).Thesecutoutsaremade intomontageworksusingarangeofstrategies.

AsfarasIknow,I'mtheonlypersoncreatingthesetypesofpublic domain works. Several of these works have been converted into paintings using the Art Matr process and are available for immediate delivery.Theseareamongtheveryfirstroboticallycreatedoilpaintings using a three-colour process that can convert photo files into oil paintings.

William Brown.HarrowingofHell.

JOURNALISTIC STYLE

SAH:Paintingrobotshavebeenaroundforsometime,howwere youintroducedtotheprocess?

WB: Most of the early painting robots attempted to emulate human painting practices with robotic arms putting abrush into premixedpaint.

Ihadnointerestinthiscrudeanddead-endtechnology.WhenI read about the three-colour process (originally developed at MIT) I realizedthiswastheonlywaytoconvertdigitalphoto-basedfilesinto oilpaintings.

SAH: Can robots replace a human's creative spark? What’s your thought?

WB: Well a lot of people are working with AI technology to develop painted images and some of the results are interesting. But I personally believe painting is essentially a human skill just like writing whichdependsonthecreativeskillsofthewriter.

Ifthereisanythingrobotswon'tbeabletodoiswriteacreative story in the way Shakespeare, Faulkner or Flannery O'Connor can createoriginalstories.Thesameholdsforhigh-levelpaintingIbelieve.

SAH:Whatareyouworkingonatthemoment?

WB:I'minPhaseIIofmypaintingsforarobotworkwhicharethe collageworksfrompublicdomainart.

WilliamBrown.WhoseNudesAmuseYou.

SAH: How do you go about transforming an ideainto a physical piece?

WB: I takephotoshop files to Art Matr's facility in Red Hook NY and supervise the printing of the oil paintings.

SAH: What kind of impact do youhopethatyourworkhas?

WB: Well this technology I believe will radically change the economicsofhowpaintingsaresold. Essentially these works can be printed in multiples of any number (andsizeeventually).Thedaysofthe $90,000,000. unique painting by living artists will end though this won'thappenovernight.

SAH: What advice would you give somebody who has just started theirartisticcareer?

WB:Welltheonlywaytobuildasuccessfulcommercialcareerat thehighestlevelistolearnfromnewidea-orientedteachersatavery early age and move to New York, London, or LA at a young age and develop auniqueconsistent stylebeforeyou are35. A lotof research supports this advice.I know tons of really good artists who are under the radar because they don'tworkinoneoftheartcenters.

SAH: Where are your favourite places to viewartonline?

WB: I know this is insanely old fashioned but I like to see actual works in person at museums so I can get the full high-resolution effectoftheactualfinishedwork.Thatbeingsaid all the major museums have great websites and mostletyoudownloadthepublicdomainworksfromtheircollection.

Biographical interview with Pablo Rey

Pilar Giró

Pilar Giró ― When did you first discoverpainting?

Pablo Rey ―Quitelate,whenIwas about 18, my father was a painter and there was always paint, brushes and canvases around the house, I remember when I was 13 I took my firststeps, and painted a picture, but this was more incidental than asignof vocation, but as nobodyisaprophetintheirownland,Inever reallypursuedit.Until, that was, the time came for me to do my military service. Having finishedmysecondaryschoolstudies,IwasduetoenlistinDecember, soIhadthesummerinfrontofme,buthavingtodomymilitaryservice meantthatno-onewaslikelytogivemeajobandneithercouldIenroll forthenextcourse.SomymothersuggestedthatIaccompanymyfather andhelphimwiththeequipmentwhilehewasengagedinhissummer project.AtfirstItookabookwithmeandwhilehewasinvolvedwith his painting, I would sit readingunder apinetree. But one day, I still don’t know why, I not only carried the materials but also started to paint,andIsuddenlyrealizedthatthiswaswhatIwantedtodoinlife, fromthenonthisiswhatIhavedone.Thetruthisthatitwasthanksto my mother that I found my truevocation; I sometimes think that if it hadn’tbeenforherIwouldstillbewanderingaroundwithoutknowing whatIwantedtodoinlife.

P.G. When youstarted painting, whatwas your relationship like withyourfather?

P.R. Well,Ialwayssaythatmybeginningswereratheroldschool, like an apprentice working in the master’s studio. The basic skills I learned from my father, either painting outside in the open or in the

studio.AlthoughoneofthemostimportantlessonsIcanrememberwas nottechnical,butaboutthehonestyandintegrityinthewayheworked, beingamanwhocould,ifhe’dwantedto,haveproducedworkthatwas facile, though henever did, hewas always engaged in astrugglewith thecanvasasifhewerepaintingforthefirsttime,asifhedidn’teven knowhowtopaint.Ialsorememberthatheinsistedontheimportance ofdrawingandpictorialstructure,hemademedrawdailyfromnature, Iwenteverydayforalmostfiveyearstothecircle“SantLluc”todolife drawing,Ilikedmostofallthosewhereweonlyhad5or10minutes. LaterthroughmystudiesatUniversityandaftermovingtoNewYorkI began to make my own way, in a more independent sense and disconnectedfromthatofmyfather.

Rey in Broohlyn's art studio, 1998.

P.G. Now that you’ve mentioned New York, how much of its influenceremainsinyourwork?

P.R. Alltheexperiencesonehasinlifeshapeandinfluenceus.That of living in New York was of course tremendously important to me, above all for two reasons: I was the son of a painter and needed, in psychoanalyticterms,to“kill”myownfather,tocreateadistancewhich wouldenablemetocreatemyownwork.ItwasNewYork,althoughit couldhavebeenanyothercity,whichallowedmetodothis.

Pablo

JOURNALISTIC STYLE

Asidefromthisit’salwaysinterestingtoliveinacityinwhichart plays such an important role, both for the number of galleries and museums, as for the many artists from all over the world who work there.Whatremainsistheanalysisofcontrastingworlds.Theweightof tradition is very heavy in Europe, while in the United States it’s the opposite,findingabalancehasbeenfundamentaltome.Ithinkitwas the United States which showed me the value of risk and experimentation,theimportanceofdaringtotryoutnewthings.Inthis respect they are freer, even free to make mistakes. I think it’s very importanttoexperiencethisatmosphereinordertolearntofly,evenif youhavetocrashoccasionally.Inart,asChillidaoncetoldmequoting Miró, one shouldn’t be afraid of walking in the dark. Art, for me, is associated with mystery and the only way to enter is by throwing oneself in and getting lost. Art has to be abouttakingrisks.

P.G. Five years have passed between the first exhibition you made after returning from NY at theCarmen Tatché gallery, and the most recent whichyoushowedthisspringattheKm7gallery.Timeenoughtohave permitteddevelopmentsinyourartisticexpressionwhilemaintaining links with the previous work. The spectator who has been following yourworkwillseethattherestillremainsatraceofNewYork,butthere isavastdifferencebetweentheCorrectionseriesinthatexhibitionand theEspacioReguladorinthelatestone.

P.R. Ofcourse,althoughtheyappearformallydifferentinfactthey arereally quitesimilar. One could think of mywork as akind of tree, withtheartistbeingthetrunkandfromwhichgrowdifferentbranches. WhatreallyinterestsmeispaintingandsowhatItrytodoispaintand I believe that to accomplish this in the present day is a great achievement because both the tradition and the history of painting is

verylong.Evenjustpickingupapaintbrushmeanshavingtobeclear about what you are doing because it’s really quite a risky business. Perhaps the changes in my work are largely formal but I’m very interestedinpaintingandhavetriednottomoveawayfromit.

P.G. Aspectatorcanalsoenteryourworkandgetlostinit,being astheyarepictorialsurfaceswithnoparticularcentre.Thisstructural decentralisation of your work seems in some way to be related to currentphilosophicalideasaboutthepresenttime,beingconsciousthat there is not just one truth, and that it’s possible to create one’s own personalreality.Idon’tknowiftheycanbereadasbeingyouropinion onthepresent.

P.R. Inthissense,yes.Centralisationseemsratherundemocratic. That there are different centres, also on an aesthetic level, I think is quitesimilartothesocietyinwhichwelive,becauseoneofthethings I’mconcernedwithinmyworkisfreedom,especiallyinthemostrecent pieces. Thesepictures don’t follow any fixed rules as to how they are made,theyarefluid,self-organisinganddon’tobeyanypre-established norms.Gettingridoftheconceptofacentreisalsoconnectedwithmy experienceofbeingintheUnitedStates.The“allover”lookofPollock’s workinterestsmequitealotandmyworkreflectsthis.

Pablo Rey, working on a canvas. Sant Feliu de Guíxols. 2008

JOURNALISTIC STYLE

I’m not interested in there being a fixed point around which everything revolves. I think of my paintings as universes with multiple galaxies in constant movement and transformation.

P.G. It’s quite surprisingthatontheonehandyourworkisabsolutelycontemporary, treatingasitdoesthemesaspoliticalasthatofdecentralisationwhile on the other hand dealing with such classical issues as that of recuperatingpaintingitself,separatedfromthepurelypictorial.

P.R. Ithinkthattheproblemwithmanycontemporarypaintersis thattheyhavegoneoffonatangent.NothingcomesfromnothingandI can understand that daring to bring something new to the body of painting,usingbrushesandcolour,isnoteasy.Butthisispreciselythe challenge and is why I’m so interested in painting. Sometimes I see videos,photography,installationsandfeelsomeempathytowardthese disciplines,eventotheextentofwantingtotrythemoutatsomestage ofmylife;butthechallengeinmycaseispainting.Isupposeit’sbecause IfeelIwasbornapainterandIcan’tavoidit.Paintingisthemediain whichIfeelmostcomfortableexpressingmyself,aswellasstimulating me.

P.G. This great interest in painting is the reason for such an abstractbodyofwork?

P.R. Ithinkthatallgoodpainting,goingbacktoVelazquezoreven the Venetians, has always been abstract. Therein lies its marvellous quality:thatinrealityittakesagreatlietocreatetheillusionoftruth. Already with Cézanne we can understand abstraction in more contemporaryterms,throughthecourseofthelastcenturyitevolved atsuchafreneticpaceandnoweventhefieldofvirtualrealitycanbe includedintermsofabstraction.Intryingtocapturethisothervirtual

reality which new technologies are providing communication, perhaps another advance in more modern terms will come about similar to that produced by the appearance of perspective in the renaissance period. Herespacecomesintoplay, the other great theme which fascinates me in painting, and which has been especially important in the development of my own work. How elements fit togetherinthesepaintings,howtheyorganisethemselvesarequestions which bring them close to similar problems also posed in quantum physics. Sometimes I feel my paintings are made before I even paint them,asifinsomewayallIhavetodoisuncoverthem.

P.G. Spaceisveryimportantinyourwork,buttimealsofeatures strongly.

P.R. Inmypaintingsthereisatimewhichgrowsoutofajourney. I manage time as a concept: the lines and shapes arrange themselves andintheirspaceeachelementdevelopsitsownslowtempo.

P.G. Do you think this space/time in your work is closer to an interiororexteriorreality?

P.R. To both, but I’m interested in talking about the exterior. I always call myself a “realist” painter. What I paint isn’t anything I’ve invented,italreadyexistsinnatureandoutinthestreet.Ingraffiti,for example.Graffitiisanotherofthefundamentalaspectsofmywork.I’m notagraffitiartistnorisitaquestionofgraffitiproducedbyapainter, it’saboutusingaresourcefrompopularculturewhichIthinkconnects withmyexpressiveneeds;inthesamewaythatlightsfromamotorway atnightortangledelectricpowerlinescanalsoappearinmywork.I’m keentokeepintouchwithwhat’sgoingonaroundme.

P.G. Lets talk about what happens inside your paintings. In the series Estados Superpuestos there is a kind of unity within each canvas, the lines flow continuouslyasiftheywereamultitude of monologues all taking place at the sametime, but in harmony; whilein the series Campo Policrónico, Estados Complementarios or Espacio Regulador the lines and shapes are more like isolatedwordswithwhichyouinvitethespectatortocreatetheirown dialogue.

P.R. Yes,I’minterestedintheideaofthespectatorparticipatingin thework.Regardingtheother,boththerationalandtheemotionalsides ofmeareverystrong,theidealwouldbetobalancethemout,butthis is not always easy to achieve. The paintings in Estados Superpuestos seemmorerational,thoughIfeelthemasbeingmoreemotional;onthe other hand, the others you mention give the feeling of being more emotionalandyetareperhapsfarmorerational.Atanyrateboththese sideswillalwaysexistwithinmywork. Sometimes, so as to continue painting, a period of silence is necessary for reflection and the preparation of another creation. Estados Superpuestos helped me, without thissilence to arriveat the Complementarios.

P.G. Anotherconstantfeatureofyourworkisthecomingtogether ofthemicrocosmandthemacrocosm.

P.R. This is the way the world and the universe are. This is the mysteryinlifeandalsoinmypictures.Inthelatestpiecesthereareeven different levels of representation. Formally an element, in a picture, couldaswellbeapatchofcolour,anattitude,oravibration,notjusta specificthing,butsomethingwhichjoinstogetherwithotherthingsto createawhole,whichiswherethemicrojoinsthemacroandviceversa.

This, which interests me as an idea, also plays a functional role in that it makes the work rich in contrasts.

P.G. These contrasts provoke a constant movementacrossthesurface ofthecanvases.Therich,brightcolours,thelinesfloatingonflatcolour fields,delimitaspacewhichistotallyhabitableforthesenses.

P.R. Iuselineasform.Mylineissomethingcorrespondingtothe ideathatDaVincihadofsfumatto,aplacewheredrawingandpainting come together. I see that the two are united in my paintings, what appearsaslineisalsocolourandlight.Thiscreatesthedensityofspace despite being on a flat surface. It isn’t matter that most interests me, painting already has its own matter and I don’t want to add to it. For sometimetherehasbeenlessandlessphysicalmatterinmywork,even in the series Correction (1998-1999) what I was creating was an emptinessofmatter,becauseIwastakingpaintoffratherthanputting iton.

P.G. Throughoutyourartisticdevelopmentitseemsyou’vebeen tryingmoreandmoretoachievetheaimofpaintinginits“pure”state. Your colours are clean, the shapes don’t give rise to confusion, and neitherdoesthepalette.

P.R. Mychoiceofcoloursisinstinctive.Asfarastheirapplication is concerned this relates to my philosophy of not contaminating the painting. I want my painting to be clean, in the sense that painting is already an interesting enough deception without adding more things whichwouldlatercreateconfusion.Iamtryingtoachieveapurityand directness in my painting, and in this latest body of work I feel I’m speakingveryclearly,thatI’mnottrickinganyoneandthatthereisjust therightamountofalchemyneeded.Withoutlosingsightofthefactthat paintingisonlyameansandnotanendinitself.