Safe Packaging For Cupcakes

Mondo interiore

Sunday afternoon at home in Verona. Finally a bit 'respite from the frenzy in Milan. A relaxing day, the air smells of autumn color, I drink hot tea and wearing pants in batteries, which combine to sleep and strangely also the desire to study or read something intoxicating.

Outside the window, her eyes caressing the willow tree in the garden, maple leaves cover the white iron table and chairs. I feel immersed in an impressionist painting. As I lose myself in these bohemian charm, I think of what an artist can be important for a work of art. The distinction seems simple: a work does not consist of the active presence of the creative (a painting does not require the intervention of the artist) and the expected performance of the enjoyment of the moment and the moment of creation to be the same.

An actor is a performance artist, a painter, body art is a performance artist, as well as a classical dancer, a musician and so on. Yet it is not always easy to tell whether a work needs the human presence, an act that is essential to artistic creation itself. A suit may be an artistic creation that does not require the presence of the artist in his "act" to contemporary "present" and yet the impact with the viewer is at a time when it is worn, when the ' Man gives life and completes the dress. It 's just at that moment that the dress becomes work? That is, when worn, expresses her beauty to the fullest potential? Again, not easy to answer.

There are many works of art that becomes even more difficult to understand whether the creative work is or is not integral, as the cuts in Fontana, conceptual works that are sufficient sun, but its lead as a key human action, a gash in the canvas. Rummaging around in my home in Verona, I found an old book of Joyce.

I've always loved the way James Joyce exceeds the photographic realism descriptions to focus on the thoughts of the beholder. Log on to the impressions, thoughts of the inner world of each character. It 's so that time becomes subjective, perceived differently by everyone. I think what is missing today is the lack of subjectivity, the point of view. It is not a criticism of the standardization and various crap, I'm not interested in (social phenomena rooted in socialization, against which it is useless to confront). I think what is needed is to restore the link between individual and world, between inner and world.

The recovery of the singularity of subjectivity, of experience, the interior is not easy. And 'necessary sensitivity suitable to receive the outside in these terms
When I say the world is math I can not help but feel that shiver of disgust.
Mathematics is read the world in a cold, consequential, predestined. For math there is optimism and pessimism. For math there is no doubt, and if there is no doubt, there are only undisputed truth. I refuse to read the world as a pathology.

I believe that everyone should discover and treat the artist who has inside. In a world that tends to stifle creativity in the number of provincial and bigoted view of a cold, according to which the work of the hoe and plow is the only thing worth having a dignity, we must first retrieve the man, so he can return to act, to be able to create performances post-modern man. Otherwise we will be remembered only as clusters of Excel spreadsheets and graphs to the crisis.

Jacopo