The Bridge

The Bridge

2011 – oil on canvas, 160×200 cm / 63×79 in

“…music heard so deeply That it is not heard at all, but you are the music While the music lasts”. T.S. Eliot, the Dry Salvages, in The four Quartets

The absence of sound can be felt either in movement or in silence. When there is no sound we say that we don’t hear, but this does not mean we are not listening. In fact, without sound our ear is even more attentive, and when there is sound the quality of listening is inferior. Today we are everywhere flooded with music, destroying the precious space of silence, indispensable to understanding the harmony of music. And a similar phenomenon is at work with our conscience.

From the dawn of time man has felt inside himself a voice, not belonging to him, the “Voice of Conscience”, which spurs or restrains him when he intends to do something, and which judges and blames him after having finished his task. To whom belongs this voice, where is it coming from? Everybody will answer this according to his beliefs.

However one thing is certain, the voice of conscience has the nature of a call, an awakening. This call happens in total silence, does not confirm anything and gives no information on worldly events; it is a call to our inner self, to the potential hidden within us. To hear this call one has to be concentrated in an appropriate place, providing total silence and shelter from the outside world, a space like my Cloak of Conscience, or the Bridge to a new Conscience in this painting.

Music allows us to attain a unique feeling of interior peace, indispensable to hearing the Voice of Conscience. When I created my Cloak in total silence I felt physically the melodies of the Commander or “Stone Guest” in Mozart’s Don Giovanni and the “Dies Irae” in his Requiem. When I created my Musicians I heard the eternal music of Gaia, our Earth, expressed in the rivers flowing from the Himalaya, the Andes and the Alps into the Sea which unites them all.

The Amazon, with its flute of the Andes, the Ganges with the Indian Cither, the Mississippi with the jazz trumpet of New Orleans, and the Danube with the violin of my Central European home, they all play the eternal music of Mother Earth. Only the Nile is without an instrument. He uses for his dance, crossing the centuries, the ropes which were used in old times for the geometrical measurement of the fertile soil after each flood.

As long as the rivers flow, Gaia’s music will continue and Conscience will guide the world.

Prev Melody
Next The Crystal

Comments are closed.