World Literary Art Impressions Magazine No.

1/2022 – autumn

Summary
Adam Żemojtel 54
Alessandra Sorcinelli 10, 24
Amar Singh 21
Aurel Chiorean 6
Bogdana Găgeanu 11 yaer I, no. 1/2022, autumn,
Bruno Pollacci 5
Clive Norman 52 ISSN 2971 – 9267
Constantin Vaciu 11, 18 ISSN-L 2971 – 9267
Davide Rocco Colacrai 37
Dessy Tsvetkova 31 Founded in Constanţa,
Dr. Imdadul Islam 14, 53 Romania, october 2022
Dr. Maheswar Das 19
Dr. P. C. Jha.Namsai 45 World Literary Art Impressions
Dr. Suresh Chandra Sarangi 52 Magazine can be read online at
Dusmanta Choudhury 30 Cronopedia (cronopedia.ning.com)
Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo 28 Editorial and administration
Farhan Anjum 48
Felicia Perec 51 email:
Franco Carta 23 worldliteraryartimpressionsmag
Giovanni Teresi 58 @gmail.com
Lenu; Lungu 55
Lokanath Rath 17
Maria D. Reis 12 editorial office
Maruf Sheikh 40
Nelu Cazan 26
Editor's box Founding
Petre Ioan Crețu 56 director: Lenuș Lungu &
Pilar Giró 64 Santosh Kumar Biswa
Prasanna Bhatta 16 Deputy Director & Chief
Prof. Dr. Laxmikanta Dash 15
Puiu Răducan 7 Editor: Ioan Muntean
Rakhal Chandra Swain.Odisha 20 Deputy Editor: Ismail Ben
Sabina Virginia Gliga 49 Ali Almosallamy
Salomeea Romanescu 26 Senior editors: Mahmoud
Selma Kopić 42
Santosh Kumar Biswa 55 S Kawash, Ashikul Alam
Sorina Vîiu 3, 47 Biswas, Ecaterina Rolea,
Stefano Capasso 22, 34 Giuseppe Iannarelli, Malak
Sumon Zaman 43
Nour.
Sunil Bairagi 32
Swarup Sanyal 10 General editorial
Tapankumar Bandyopadhyay 19 secretary: Malak Nour,
Usha N. Shrinivaasun 38 Ecaterina Rolea Editorial
Vasilica Zaharagiu 33
Board: Tareq Al Islam, Amar
Viorica Crecan 29
William Brown 60 Singh, Bhatta Prasanna,
Yusuf M Khalid 50 Giovanni Teresi, Bogdana
Zoran Radosavljevic 57 Gageanu
Image processing: Ioan
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Love, the innocence of a child

Sorina Vîiu
What is love?
I think that all people who have ever lived on this earth have asked
themselves the same question!
I have in front of me a glass of wine, the drink of the gods, of the
Romans, of the ancient Greeks, but also of
the inhabitants of today of which I am a
part. I look at him intently and my
thought flies to the universe. Every now
and then I take a sip, and suddenly my
own soul starts talking to me.
– Mistress, I want to go out on the
high road and shout in the four corners of
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
Painting - TIBERIU MURSA
peace of divinity!
Then, after drinking another sip of wine and taking a deep breath,
I put my reason to the test and answer with my heart:
– My dear soul, I know what you could go through and how you
endured everything I caused you, but what I suffered was with my heart.
You know very well how much love he can feel! That's why it causes you
so much trouble. I will explain to you through my reason what love
meant to me.
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– LOVE:
– It's those flutters you feel the first time you see your loved one.
After touching their wings you realize how strong that love will be;
– It is the desire that palpates alongside another heart in an
immense rush to join his desire;
– It is the deep longing and pain when this love is scorned,
betrayed, lied to, and that affects you especially dear soul!
– It is the passion of a bullfighter when he wants to dominate that
bull. Strong and fiery;
– It is the sea full of waves that caress you between ebb and flow;
– It is the entire Universe that we created between the two of us.
There we embrace in another dimension where our souls are united for
eternity;
– For me, love is everything. And I'll tell you one more thing: I will
never give up on love!
– She is full of the innocence of a child, of his tenderness, of purity.
It is the people who turn it into selfishness, tyranny, betrayal, lies.
– It is a velvety flower with deep petals. I will look at her and hug
her incessantly. I don't think I can get enough of looking at it or fool my
longing with warm, longing hugs.
Then my dear soul and full of passion, don't forget: "YOU STILL
HAVE TO LIVE"! Little by little I finish my glass of wine and the hope of
another day and another chance smiling at me on the horizon grows in
me...
Many thanks to Mr. Tiberiu Mursa for this wonderful painting and
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, the painter 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
born in 1899 in Rosario, Argentina, to an
Italian father and an Argentine mother.
Moved to Italy as a child, he began
to work artistically in his father's
sculpture workshop. Since the end of the
1940s he began to pierce and cut the
canvases, creating natural hollows and
reliefs and thus creating a direct formal
and chiaroscuro relationship between
surface and space.
Consequently, with his work The work ends "representing" and
begins to "be", per se. This work of mine in sanguine and sepia is in his
homage and memory.

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Letter after silence

Aurel Chiorean
I would really like you to know that I am waiting for you in a
dream, one of those dreams that stops on the clock, so that we are awake
even when we sleep.
You are an accident of my being, the most wonderful accident of
life that crosses my vision with the smell of raw apples.
You are the whole desire that melts in me, distinguishes my joy
and happiness so that then a smile stops on my lips. Just the other day,
you used to trickle towards the black deserts, without guessing my
turmoil from the silence, letting my paths detach from the word.
I was alone with him and I mourned him on the edge of a book
closed by gray covers. You were like a dance in the dust of my mother's
prayer, under the mountains that silenced the kiss built in clay.
I only gave myself to the storm accompanied by apathetic
accomplices, having as witness my fear and hoarse voice in the light of
rains that fled from the roots.
We were burning under the embers of banal plagues, we were
both sacrificing the earth but at different poles, which controlled our
breath and heartbeats.
Those moments were poisoned by horror and
incomprehensibility, like the pain of a fog that has only regret as a
memory. Later I realized that we live in the same galaxy that sanctifies
sins, flows in aspirations and in the rhythm of the clock face.
I did nothing but wait for you at the end of the hour loving you, as
I have always loved you, even when our souls fall prey to the harshness
of the whip.

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The Forest
Puiu Răducan
Midsummer strips winter of its mantle and chases it into the den.
Her time had passed, and now she was a frail and brittle decaying body.
From behind the window in a green hoodie, the new princess drew back
the curtain with the scent of pearl, snowdrops, hyacinths, violas and
lilacs.
A pack of budgies was running wildly on the bald mountain, but
also among the kids that were frolicking in the pens. She was running,
she couldn't find her rhythm, her
breathing, well, she was also very
exhausted. The hills had begun to be
covered with lambs...
The forest is no more!
Where to put the poor buds!? There
are also many.
Escaped from under the murderous
caterpillar of a tankette, a stump, a small
forest chicken, with broken ribs, could barely hold on to its roots. He
was struggling to get up.
He hadn't even managed to do it, to wipe his pain-watered eyes,
because a bunch of buds settled on his forehead with pain.
He finally manages to wipe away his raw tears, but he was badly
frightened when the shadow of the forest ran away to look for his
mother.
Terrible situation of the poor forest chick. In the fear he was going
through, he didn't even realize that the flock of buds, having nothing to
rest on, was twisting his numb arms in pain.
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Where is the forest asks the lost shoot?

Can't believe it!
Where is?
He always rubs his eyes full of domestic tears and it seems to make
them... liars.
The shadow of the forest had also disappeared. The mist of buds
ran down his back with bumps.
The forest!
Well, the forest, frightened by the
snoring of the chainsaws, of the
murderous blades with sharp teeth and
a dull sheen, scuttled into their pockets.
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
wondering and don't know why?
The forest has fled!
How soon the doina, longing and
the song of the cuckoo will also flee.
The tears of the thick bald mountains collect in the valleys and
meander downhill among characterless "implants".
I run and cry!
The Lord, walking the old SUN in the Great Chariot in the sky in a
stripe, seeing the Carpathian disaster, wiped his blue eyes and asked
him:
– Come on, SUN! Where are the Carpathian forests?

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– I don't know, God! The horses of the devil's stud pounced on her
and chased her into the fields and into the pocket of Ghyury, Ioshka...
and the others.
–Well, what forests did I give them, well!
The moon was hidden in the thickets of the Six for fear of the Lord,
lest she be asked about the butchery in the mountains.
–Yes, who chased away my forest, old man, Soare?
– God, I don't know! It's not ours!
– My, what people, bad, my! They chased even the shadow of the
forest. What harm would it have done to them!?
Oh God!
Where are you my forest, with your sleepy song!

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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
Alessandra Sorcinelli
Italy
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.
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Autumnal
Constantin Vaciu

Autumnal is The breasts come out

The love in leaves Under the kiss
It hides To make the morning serene
And on the lips are dripping To gather in caresses
The grapes picked Everything you thought
By the hands of the beloved. And in your soul
* You shall
If you hear a rustle Find me...

Potable water
Bogdana Găgeanu

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.

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Slow down
Maria D. Reis
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
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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!

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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.

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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.

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Almighty adores altruism

Prasanna Bhatta
India
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.

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Night never sleeps

Lokanath Rath
India
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
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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
Constantin Vaciu
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...

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The bridge
Tapankumar Bandyopadhyay
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?

Dr. Maheswar Das
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.
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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
To serve his creation with love and joy is to worship Him.

Insatiable spirit
Rakhal Chandra Swain.Odisha
India
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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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
Amar Singh
India
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.
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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
Stefano Capasso
Italy
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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that Unknown Love

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

Metropolis
Franco Carta
Italy
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.
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In shoots
Alessandra Sorcinelli
Italy
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
Alessandra Sorcinelli
Italy
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
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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.

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The light of hidden hope

Nelu Cazan
Romania
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"

Salomeea Romanescu
Romania
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.

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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.

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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 dreams -
colleagues,
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
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and for us
ring the church bells
Sunday.
Viorica Crecan
Romania

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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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
Painting By Dr. Ghafar Bahari
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
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The right moment

Dessy Tsvetkova
Bulgaria
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
Dessy Tsvetkova
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.
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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.

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Autumn with kiss

Vasilica Zaharagiu

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.

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The rhymes of Dante

Stefano Capasso
Dante's first poetic production consisting of a collection of 54
lyrics, divided into 34 Sonnets, 13 songs, 5 ballads and 2 sestines.
One of her lyrics entitled:

"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, it is at the very basis of the Fundamental Principle of "FREE
WILL"
However he then he specifies that there is a distinction
between the Divine Justice and the Earthly Justice which does not
constitute a duplicate of the Divine one.
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For the Supreme Vate, HELL more than punishing the person,
punishes the Action, that is the Violence itself, so much so as to report
in his Divine Comedy:
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
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FATHER CLEMENTE,

show your love

to who
the reason has gone astray,
to them pointing
that Right Path
to All assigned
From Your:

DIVINE MIND.

IMAGES:

ADNKRONOS
ANSA PRESS

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

Davide Rocco Colacrai
Switzerland/Italy
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.
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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
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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

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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

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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."

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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!

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The separation
Sumon Zaman
Bangladesh
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.
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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.

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Need Wed
Dr. P. C. Jha.Namsai
India
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,
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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.
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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

Sorina Vîiu
Spain
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,
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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
Farhan Anjum
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

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Unforgettable memories
Sabina Virginia Gliga
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
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!
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Night Sun
Yusuf M Khalid
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

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The gift of autumn

Felicia Perec
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.

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Ever-Brighter Within!
Clive Norman
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

Dr. Suresh Chandra Sarangi
India
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
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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

Dr. Imdadul Islam
India
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.
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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.
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Good forever
Santosh Kumar Biswa
Thousands of words you utter,
You maybe everyone's best today,
Autumn, Portrait of
But, if one from the thousands is bad, Lydia Cassatt, 1880
You would be remembered for that - one. By Mary Cassatt

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
Lenuş Lungu
I entwined my dreams they tell their legend
on the path that winds up, soft thought sensations,
towards the vault fed with light late autumn smell
the wind shatters my soul enter the mind
I walk desolately through the gently floods my sense of smell,
clearing easy transition between twilight
where the silent leaves rustle and stillness,
and trees wrinkled by time, Woven in a garment of shadows.
leans to one side

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LITERARY SPECIES - ESSAY

The natural cycle of life or healing from

the cold
By Petre Ioan Crețu
Like a boat with a soul tossed in a storm, I recently tried to swim
to the last drop of moisture and then to leave myself to the will of the
sea in a last gesture, a gesture of the people, even I admit, then I saw the
bottom for the first time the sea the stars of the sky sleeping like soft
flowers together with the silence and some memories collected at night
by the child angels from the mouths of the rapid rivers that keep rolling
down from the mountains like the mighty and jump from the shore into
the depths and the great light frantically towards its depths sometimes
to the bowels the earth sometimes even up to the sky I kept floating
above the sleeping stars until I got cold and I started to cry out of spite
crying never hurts just dry like a siren a foreign voice whispered in my
ear it sounded monotonous sleep hold me by your hand and you were
sleeping and my eyelids were hanging heavy like lead difficult, very
difficult I managed to break away and I reached you on the sheet lying
on the sand shivering with fear and cold I barely managed to whisper to
you I love you to death even if it didn't do me any good at night you went
to see where the young seagulls had nested, which during the day had
just flown for the first time in their lives, the stars shone softly in the sky
without you knowing.

Wooded Path in Autumn, cir. 1902, By

Hans Andersen Brendekilde

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Excerpt from the book

Zoran Radosavljevic
Bosnia and Herzegovina
STUMBLING ON YOUR OWN LIFE
How long will I live... just today... Today I'm proud... because I've
been making mistakes all my life... that's finally coming to an end... It's
my turn too...that's the pure truth even though it's painful and sad... I
wish I never lived... I want death to hurt me... to die of pain... the more
pain in this world the less pain in the next world... I want to leave this
world because of a life called a lie... I will scream before the dark forces
grab my hand... remember when at night you hear cries from the
heavens it is me sacrificing myself for all you sinners...
Slowly as the night comes... I am more and more honest with
myself... finally I will feel pure perfection... finally someone will close my
eyes too... I hope it will be her hand... I will stand at the gates of heaven...
looking at the creator straight in the eyes.
What follows is not my last stop... I walk to the train... schedule for
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
unreasonable to them... and real... Neo it is a necessary right for people
to think of themselves as gods and when they come to God in front of
the truth they realize what an absurdity they were living in... What a
mess we came from the water... they put you in the ground... and you go
to heaven... They bury you deeper and you look down on them... As soon
as I was born I became a man... how I hate that word...there is no greater
animal than man...only fools are God's lucky ones... their life passes in
joy... I have spat on my mind many times... I don't need it anymore… my
hands are bloody from digging into my sinful wounds... my insides turn
from so many lies… what rules the world... this is the song of madness...
I will die and I will repeat it a million times... and the end of the world
will come with my end... I will go to the deepest abyss of your
nightmares and while I am laughing you will not know if my laughter is
reality or fantasy...
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LITERARY SPECIES - BIOGRAPHY

Biography
Giovanni Teresi
Giovanni Teresi is a writer and lover
of art in all its aspects, he has published
several poems and short stories. A
contemporary painter and sculptor of
great value.
Giovanni Teresi (Marsala, 1951) is a
retired professor of Business Economics
and Legal and Economic Disciplines. He
has published several poetry texts and
short stories in national and international
magazines. He participated with his own
paintings in the collective painting in the city of Breno (BS) from 1983
to 1986, receiving diplomas of merit and various certificates. At the 3rd
National Competition "Marine Painters" - Augusta 15/05/2002, the
Historical Office of the Navy awarded him the Diploma of Marine
Painter for his pictorial work "Hovercraft".
It is present in the anthology collection Poetry is a dream edited
by Fulvio Castellani. In 2005, the Italian Cultural Institute in Naples
received the international prize for Poetry and Literature New Letters
XVI Edition for the work Pellegrini. In 2006 he published, with the
contribution of ICI, La grande tradition des Muses.
His other books of poetry in French are: Rêve les yeux ouverts,
L'univers de l'âme, L'île enchantée par le chant de la lune; lyrical texts
cataloged in the main national and foreign libraries. In 2007 he
published with the contribution of Maremmi Editori (FI) Mitul si poezia
and for the editor Bastogi the historical essay About the Carbonari

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movements of 1820-'21 in Italy -
Little known events and followers
of the period.
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
Latinitas from Civitate Vaticana.
On April 12, 2013, at the
second Scevola Mariotti
"Sirena" (Giovanni Teresi)
International Latin Poetry Contest,
announced by the Pontifical
Salesian University of Rome, he won the first prize with Magna Laude
for his religious verses in Latin. He is president of the Punto Centrum
Latinitatis Europae from Marsala, a Cultural Association based in
Aquileia, for which he organizes Seminars and Conferences on Greco-
Roman Literature.
On September 23, 2017, he won the "Mulini al vento con aironi"
International Prize "Literature, poetry,
non-fiction and fiction" for Sect. original
poem with the lyrics "The juggler". On 12
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
organized by the Academy of Sicily (PA).

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JOURNALISTIC STYLE

European Paintings, Cutouts & Robots:

An Interview With William Brown
William Brown’s artistic practice pushes the boundaries of what
constitutes art and in the process, transforms the way in which his work
is created and consumed. Brown started as a photographer in the early
1970s after his graduation in psychology. His work merges elements
from mediums as diverse as film, sculpture, painting, and photography.
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. Read on to gain insight into his amazing, creative process.

2D009+Whose+Nudes+Amuses+You04safetylores+700
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William Brown: Hell.

SAH: How would you describe
your style?
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
interested in creating true aleatory
paintings as described by John Cage
and others. I realized I could put
photo images in film editing
software and randomly merge these by the thousands. I then selected
the most interesting. I've built up a large inventory of these that can be
painted by the painting robot developed by Art Matr in Red Hook NY.
These can be viewed on my website.
After developing a large body of digital aleatory works (2019-
2022) I decided to create a series of montage works (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
images from European paintings (1500-1900). These cutouts are made
into montage works using a range of strategies.
As far as I know, I'm the only person creating these types of public
domain works. Several of these works have been converted into
paintings using the Art Matr process and are available for immediate
delivery. These are among the very first robotically created oil paintings
using a three-colour process that can convert photo files into oil
paintings.
William Brown. Harrowing of Hell.

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SAH: Painting robots have been around for some time, how were
you introduced to the process?
WB: Most of the early painting robots attempted to emulate
human painting practices with robotic arms putting a brush into pre-
mixed paint.
I had no interest in this crude and dead-end technology. When I
read about the three-colour process (originally developed at MIT) I
realized this was the only way to convert digital photo-based files into
oil paintings.
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
which depends on the creative skills of the writer.
If there is anything robots won't be able to do is write a creative
story in the way Shakespeare, Faulkner or Flannery O'Connor can
create original stories. The same holds for high-level painting I believe.
SAH: What are you working on at the moment?
WB: I'm in Phase II of my paintings for a robot work which are the
collage works from public domain art.
William Brown. Whose Nudes Amuse You.
SAH: How do you go about transforming an idea into a physical
piece?
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WB: I take photoshop files to Art Matr's facility in Red Hook NY
and supervise the printing of the oil
paintings.
SAH: What kind of impact do
you hope that your work has?
WB: Well this technology I
believe will radically change the
economics of how paintings are sold.
Essentially these works can be
printed in multiples of any number
(and size eventually). The days of the
$90,000,000. unique painting by
living artists will end though this
won't happen overnight.
SAH: What advice would you
give somebody who has just started
their artistic career?
WB: Well the only way to build a successful commercial career at
the highest level is to learn from new idea-oriented teachers at a very
early age and move to New York, London, or LA at a young age and
develop a unique consistent style before you are 35. A lot of research
supports this advice.I know tons of really good
artists who are under the radar because they
don't work in one of the art centers.
SAH: Where are your favourite places to
view art online?
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
effect of the actual finished work. That being said
all the major museums have great websites and
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Biographical interview with Pablo Rey

Pilar Giró
Pilar Giró ― When did you first
discover painting?
Pablo Rey ― Quite late, when I was
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 first steps, and
painted a picture, but this was more
incidental than a sign of vocation, but as
nobody is a prophet in their own land, I never really pursued it. Until,
that was, the time came for me to do my military service. Having
finished my secondary school studies, I was due to enlist in December,
so I had the summer in front of me, but having to do my military service
meant that no-one was likely to give me a job and neither could I enroll
for the next course. So my mother suggested that I accompany my father
and help him with the equipment while he was engaged in his summer
project. At first I took a book with me and while he was involved with
his painting, I would sit reading under a pine tree. But one day, I still
don’t know why, I not only carried the materials but also started to
paint, and I suddenly realized that this was what I wanted to do in life,
from then on this is what I have done. The truth is that it was thanks to
my mother that I found my true vocation; I sometimes think that if it
hadn’t been for her I would still be wandering around without knowing
what I wanted to do in life.
P.G. When you started painting, what was your relationship like
with your father?
P.R. Well, I always say that my beginnings were rather old school,
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
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studio. Although one of the most important lessons I can remember was
not technical, but about the honesty and integrity in the way he worked,
being a man who could, if he’d wanted to, have produced work that was
facile, though he never did, he was always engaged in a struggle with
the canvas as if he were painting for the first time, as if he didn’t even
know how to paint. I also remember that he insisted on the importance
of drawing and pictorial structure, he made me draw daily from nature,
I went every day for almost five years to the circle “Sant Lluc” to do life
drawing , I liked most of all those where we only had 5 or 10 minutes.
Later through my studies at University and after moving to New York I
began to make my own way, in a more independent sense and
disconnected from that of my father.

Pablo Rey in Broohlyn's art studio, 1998.

P.G. Now that you’ve mentioned New York, how much of its
influence remains in your work?
P.R. All the experiences one has in life shape and influence us. 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
psychoanalytic terms, to “kill” my own father, to create a distance which
would enable me to create my own work. It was New York, although it
could have been any other city, which allowed me to do this.

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Aside from this it’s always interesting to live in a city in which art
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. What remains is the analysis of contrasting worlds. The weight of
tradition is very heavy in Europe, while in the United States it’s the
opposite, finding a balance has been fundamental to me. I think it was
the United States which showed me the value of risk and
experimentation, the importance of daring to try out new things. In this
respect they are freer, even free to make mistakes. I think it’s very
important to experience this atmosphere in order to learn to fly, even if
you have to crash occasionally. In art, as Chillida once told me quoting
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
about taking risks.
P.G. Five years have
passed between the first
exhibition you made after
returning from NY at the Carmen Tatché gallery, and the most recent
which you showed this spring at the Km7 gallery. Time enough to have
permitted developments in your artistic expression while maintaining
links with the previous work. The spectator who has been following
your work will see that there still remains a trace of New York, but there
is a vast difference between the Correction series in that exhibition and
the Espacio Regulador in the latest one.
P.R. Of course, although they appear formally different in fact they
are really quite similar. One could think of my work as a kind of tree,
with the artist being the trunk and from which grow different branches.
What really interests me is painting and so what I try to do is paint and
I believe that to accomplish this in the present day is a great
achievement because both the tradition and the history of painting is
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very long. Even just picking up a paintbrush means having to be clear
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
interested in painting and have tried not to move away from it.
P.G. A spectator can also enter your work and get lost in it, being
as they are pictorial surfaces with no particular centre. This structural
decentralisation of your work seems in some way to be related to
current philosophical ideas about the present time, being conscious that
there is not just one truth, and that it’s possible to create one’s own
personal reality. I don’t know if they can be read as being your opinion
on the present.

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

P.R. In this sense, yes. Centralisation seems rather undemocratic.

That there are different centres, also on an aesthetic level, I think is
quite similar to the society in which we live, because one of the things
I’m concerned with in my work is freedom, especially in the most recent
pieces. These pictures don’t follow any fixed rules as to how they are
made, they are fluid, self-organising and don’t obey any pre-established
norms. Getting rid of the concept of a centre is also connected with my
experience of being in the United States. The “all over” look of Pollock’s
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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
surprising that on the one hand your work is absolutely contemporary,
treating as it does themes as political as that of decentralisation while
on the other hand dealing with such classical issues as that of
recuperating painting itself, separated from the purely pictorial.
P.R. I think that the problem with many contemporary painters is
that they have gone off on a tangent. Nothing comes from nothing and I
can understand that daring to bring something new to the body of
painting, using brushes and colour, is not easy. But this is precisely the
challenge and is why I’m so interested in painting. Sometimes I see
videos, photography, installations and feel some empathy toward these
disciplines, even to the extent of wanting to try them out at some stage
of my life; but the challenge in my case is painting. I suppose it’s because
I feel I was born a painter and I can’t avoid it. Painting is the media in
which I feel most comfortable expressing myself, as well as stimulating
me.
P.G. This great interest in painting is the reason for such an
abstract body of work?
P.R. I think that all good painting, going back to Velazquez or even
the Venetians, has always been abstract. Therein lies its marvellous
quality: that in reality it takes a great lie to create the illusion of truth.
Already with Cézanne we can understand abstraction in more
contemporary terms, through the course of the last century it evolved
at such a frenetic pace and now even the field of virtual reality can be
included in terms of abstraction. In trying to capture this other virtual
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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.
Here space comes into play,
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
together in these paintings, how they organise themselves are questions
which bring them close to similar problems also posed in quantum
physics. Sometimes I feel my paintings are made before I even paint
them, as if in some way all I have to do is uncover them.
P.G. Space is very important in your work, but time also features
strongly.
P.R. In my paintings there is a time which grows out of a journey.
I manage time as a concept: the lines and shapes arrange themselves
and in their space each element develops its own slow tempo.
P.G. Do you think this space/time in your work is closer to an
interior or exterior reality?
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, it already exists in nature and out in the street. In graffiti, for
example. Graffiti is another of the fundamental aspects of my work. I’m
not a graffiti artist nor is it a question of graffiti produced by a painter,
it’s about using a resource from popular culture which I think connects
with my expressive needs; in the same way that lights from a motorway
at night or tangled electric power lines can also appear in my work. I’m
keen to keep in touch with what’s going on around me.

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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
continuously as if they were a multitude
of monologues all taking place at the
same time, but in harmony; while in the
series Campo Policrónico, Estados
Complementarios or Espacio Regulador
the lines and shapes are more like
isolated words with which you invite the spectator to create their own
dialogue.
P.R. Yes, I’m interested in the idea of the spectator participating in
the work. Regarding the other, both the rational and the emotional sides
of me are very strong, the ideal would be to balance them out, but this
is not always easy to achieve. The paintings in Estados Superpuestos
seem more rational, though I feel them as being more emotional; on the
other hand, the others you mention give the feeling of being more
emotional and yet are perhaps far more rational. At any rate both these
sides will always exist within my work.
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 this silence to arrive at the
Complementarios.
P.G. Another constant feature of your work is the coming together
of the microcosm and the macrocosm.
P.R. This is the way the world and the universe are. This is the
mystery in life and also in my pictures. In the latest pieces there are even
different levels of representation. Formally an element, in a picture,
could as well be a patch of colour, an attitude, or a vibration, not just a
specific thing, but something which joins together with other things to
create a whole, which is where the micro joins the macro and vice versa.

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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
movement across the surface
of the canvases. The rich, bright colours, the lines floating on flat colour
fields, delimit a space which is totally habitable for the senses.
P.R. I use line as form. My line is something corresponding to the
idea that Da Vinci had of sfumatto, a place where drawing and painting
come together. I see that the two are united in my paintings, what
appears as line is also colour and light. This creates the density of space
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
some time there has been less and less physical matter in my work, even
in the series Correction (1998-1999) what I was creating was an
emptiness of matter, because I was taking paint off rather than putting
it on.
P.G. Throughout your artistic development it seems you’ve been
trying more and more to achieve the aim of painting in its “pure” state.
Your colours are clean, the shapes don’t give rise to confusion, and
neither does the palette.
P.R. My choice of colours is instinctive. As far as their application
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
which would later create confusion. I am trying to achieve a purity and
directness in my painting, and in this latest body of work I feel I’m
speaking very clearly, that I’m not tricking anyone and that there is just
the right amount of alchemy needed. Without losing sight of the fact that
painting is only a means and not an end in itself.

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