Black Is Like The Silence Of The

Everything That Is Dead Quivers. Not Only The Things Of Poetry, Stars, Moon, Wood, Flowers, But Even A White Trouser Button Glittering Out Of A Puddle In The Street... Everything Has A Secret Soul, Which Is Silent More Often Than It Speaks.

In Your Works, You Have Realized What I, Albeit In Uncertain Form, Have So Greatly Longed For In Music. The Independent Progress Through Their Own Destinies, The Independent Life Of The Individual Voices In Your Compositions, Is Exactly What I Am Trying To Find In My Painting.

The True Work Of Art Is Born From The 'artist': A Mysterious, Enigmatic, And Mystical Creation. It Detaches Itself From Him, It Acquires An Autonomous Life, Becomes A Personality, An Independent Subject, Animated With A Spiritual Breath, The Living Subject Of A Real Existence Of Being.

In Every Painting A Whole Is Mysteriously Enclosed, A Whole Life Of Tortures, Doubts, Of Hours Of Enthusiasm And Inspiration.

Generally Speaking, Color Directly Influences The Soul.