The Artist

The Artist, like the writer, is a solitary creature, a lonesome wolf, both predator and prey. It is a being who spends most of his time by himself, in a sweet captivity, not necessarily anti-social, but he exchanges several meetings with people whom he loves the most in order to be able to find himself with his art.

Selfish? Stubborn? Thoughtful, skeptical! He doesn’t believe in irreducible truths and he likes to test and contradict the laws; seeking that one rare moment in which laws are paradoxical – where they do not make sense anymore – they change, and everything is recreated. The renaissance. The moment when we joyfully realize how deceived we were and how we kept being deceived. When we felt wise and powerful, and then we continue our way likewise, deceived, until a similar moment happens once again.

Sensitive, melancholic, poetic and even pathetic! Tireless, aware. Constantly observing and reflecting upon the most intricate detail – contemplating what others cannot make sense of. The magic always happens in the details, without those, life would be flat, gray, dull and uneventful. Without details there would be no music, nor art, not even life itself. The Artist is the one who dismantles everything, deconstructing and reassembling, displaying an evangelical patience and a revamping breath and inspiration.

The Artist is a liar! He tenderly deceives his audience with an illusion; a representation or a simulation, but never with reality itself. His audience adores to be deluded by him, pervasively, as in a martial ballet, where the more it is deceived, the more it enjoys it!

The creator is simultaneously the Wizard and his Apprentice. The Convicted and his Executioner. An everlasting child, who keeps playing with his inventiveness, discovering, questioning and inventing a new world every day, even one that is solely his.

Like a child, the Artist has more doubts and questions than certainties or answers, and, for this reason alone, he is constantly learning and evolving, he knows that he has a long way ahead until he eventually becomes someone…

Someone who is aware that the well doesn’t have a bottom; that the warrior doesn’t rest, and that the light at the end of the tunnel is not more fascinating and appealing than the tunnel itself.

The Artist is not afraid of the dark, he knows that light and shadow belong to the same equation; as it happens with hot and cold; near and far; lightness and fogginess; happiness and sadness; success and failure; life and death; the present and the past…

The only thing that the Artist does not know is the future. The artist loves what he does not know. And the unknown as well! And that is precisely where the Artist feels at home.

Pedro Boaventura


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