Following the green gleam.
I often finish my paintings with a thin line in the middle as a horizon: a fine light blue line.
It’s all the sea I feel.
The sea as an existential event, as fluidity, as becoming; the horizon as a messianic, never ending wait.
Scanning the horizon is a necessity and a commandment: “stay awake” so it is written.
My wait in front of the sea is serene, reassuring: what harm can come from light blue? And light blue is the dominant colour in my paintings now.
I have been waiting long even for the grace of using this colour, I have been desiring it since half way along my life’s path, even before I was able to do it and from the horizon my state of grace has reached me with the tide, at the turning of the new century, when I was over 50.
Time has diluted the reddish colours on my palette, it has brightened the shady areas and lightened the ancient patinas, which were corroded and oxidized.
The thickness at night, the twist of passions, the faintness of feelings are now left behind in the past century.
There are lots of colours in these latest works, my palette is now enriched because I have gained the right “to plunder” at my age.
Before that, however, I have carefully improved my style, as I firmly believe that the great freedom of the abstract expression needs the experience and the skill of a well tested guidance. What comes out naturally is, actually, the bad instinct of one’s free will, which is both a crime and a fault.
I was wondering how marvellous it is giving way to sleep: it’s an incredible resource!
I try it again and again, when I’m at my easel, in front of a painting to be organized, I look for that particular state of mood where the free associations of thoughts take place, that sort of “clairvoyance” of sleepwalkers which makes it possible to have those mysterious balances.
Intelligence flounders in search of an impossible identification in reality. No way! It won’t get it! I created these paintings as I was daydreaming, so that nobody can shut them in. They are as slippery as an eel, they are the shifting horizon, the dreampowder, the mirage of Itaca refracted in the air, the ghosts of what is elsewhere.
I’ve been told nobody can say the name of God as he goes beyond everything…well…I mean something like that:” How wonderful! But…what is it? …Who knows?”
Simple and pure feeling from the soul.
It is wisdom my dynamic unfinished search for the elsewhere. I love this gentleness in the tones, the breeziness of the space, the orange and yellow warmth, the violet wisteria smell, the light blue peace, the way they keep on fixing and vanishing while the colours are changing. I love this thick surface, cracked as dry land, pure colour under the guise of feeling.
I look inside, through the colours and a window opens up, as a passage towards the stars: I find myself out on the elsewhere.
The paradise of painters.
…The sea again, but I’m not satisfied.
Whenever I see that wonderful light and all the stars dancing on the water, I am at once spellbound by an ecstasy which goes beyond any other thought; I keep silent in my mind and peace fills my soul. I imagine myself on the threshold of heaven, only a few steps far from the blessed eternity.Then I let my enthusiasm grow and I patter my rhythm, I stay in time, right and left, one two, with enthusiasm, with joy and I run, never turning back: the present for me being the water, the sky, the light.
When I reach the point of no return from the “old man” I lie down and stay quiet, my eyes closed, and I wait serene.
The day will come when I can find the way to this abstract happiness, its metaphor as body made flesh, and then I will paint beautiful paintings: bright, scented, full of summer.
On that day I will enter the “paradise of painters”.
english version: Alessandra Gaggini