It is the intuitive artist threshold that creates an idea of the world and it gives an image, it is the prototype of the future. If “Evolution” stands for “Change” it becomes easy to understand how slow it was in the past and how fast it is today. The relationship between evolutionary change and artistic morphing is explained.
A directly proportional relationship.
The Art follows the Man as an unmerciful witness to the logic and feelings that drive the heart, dreams, desires, assembling the emotional individualities for composing the big picture of the present. Every emotion comes from an effect, formal or abstract as it is, and if the effect is generated by a cause, you just have to question yourself. Or simply you take note that from this image you cannot capture any fragments.
Anyway, it is difficult to put on a global perspective, the time train is running wildly. Everything is confused and uncertain. The past becomes school; the future is fantasy; but the present is always an uncertain construction: a set of anarchic events which are the reflections from the assumptions or they are represented by those who have the innate intuition to capture the emotions and turn them into fragments. The art does not provide any answers, it does not create any theorems, but it reflects the evolutionary logic of the future through the human sensibility and creativity of the individual intellect. It constantly helps us understanding who we are, what we are becoming, with its thousand points of view.
It prepare us to the inevitable.
If you consider the contemporary Art incomprehensible, think about how it should have been the realism of Caravaggio.
Think about what effect made the Duchamp’s bikes.
And Braque’s décollages.
And the Manzoni’s “Shit”.
And the Fontana’s cuts.
And the Burri’s combustion.
Nowadays it’s history, so that the puzzle is complete.
What about Boga’s artworks?
The shocking artists who pay more attention to the extravagance of their character instead of the originality of their creations do not seem nothing but interpreters of huge plays, where everyone reads a script, the neurotic schizophrenic, the nostalgic thinker, the alert performer of his time, the bad boy …
Disappointment of disappointments, it all ends in a bubble crushed by atmospheric pressure. And the authenticity evaporates in millions of gaseous particles.
Meteors in a great starry sky. And I wonder if they had at least tried to leave a message, a witness of any value, or if they were just puppets in sand castles, built by cruel dream sellers children, who have distorted the illusion in ideology; passing off bodybuilding as culture.
Great puppeteers of a theater without time and without rest. But it’s always all about appearance.
When you take off the 3D glasses that others put you on, you find yourself with something fuzzy and downright sloppy. Yes, we are children of the old and good Consumerism and, when the sheep gets fat, it is left to an obsessive repeating and disgustingly opportunistic routine in order to put the spotlight on a new sacrificial lamb.