The best method to represent a feeling is to let it flow out of us without constraint into forms. In fact, in our minds, these feelings appear as star formations, bursts of color, and nebulous vibrations. We would define the whole as an abstract constellation.

Indeed, the most nihilistic individuals might find themselves saying that nothing we feel can be considered true, real, since it's impossible to define. Nothing could be further from the truth. If we take for granted that a ghost does not exist (and I, honestly, cannot know if this statement is true or not), what does exist are the sensations that its possible existence in the material world leaves us with. Just like the word "ghost" itself.

The feeling is defined, but its "plastic" representation will hardly be - unless one wants to risk falling into a banal figurativism of the human body. And that is why I believe abstraction is the closest representation to what is true, what is real. An example that supports my thesis is the following: Imagine you are faced with a set of brushes and objects that you can use to leave a mark on a flat, two-dimensional surface, and a tin bucket containing ink. If I were to ask you to leave a mark with the materials you have at your disposal, this will be the exact representation of your current condition. Why am I sure? Because if you were sad or angry, the marks would tend to be less rich in ink but full of straight lines and well-defined marks, perhaps dotted and concentrated in a limited area. On the other hand, if you were happy, the marks would be softer, rounder, comma-shaped, they would find themselves again, and the ink would be sparingly used over the entire available surface.

It's impossible to define a sensation, so we must allow it to define itself. Colors carry with them primal, innate feelings. Movement is closely linked to the emotion in question. The centrifugal and centripetal forces present in them are accentuated by color and inevitably coexist and resonate within us.

So, as unreal as these artistic creations may appear to most because they are immersed in the world of matter, covered by the so-called "veil of Maya", they carry sincere feelings, vibrations, and the culture of a human being within them.

As the Greeks argued with their "kalòs kai agathòs," beauty cannot reside solely in form. We define a palace as "beautiful" when it fulfills the function for which it was designed. For the same reason, a work of art and an artist cannot concern themselves solely and exclusively with form: otherwise, you would be an ornamentist. Otherwise, you are trying to add luxury to something that should only perform the function for which it was designed. And, quite simply, this is also the basis for the structure of this art series.

Just like the aforementioned palace, to truly make it noteworthy, it's necessary for entry to be facilitated. Without paying the ticket to visit it, you can still enjoy the energy of its contents. But if you want to contribute to the beauty of the castle by becoming a part of it, I've ensured that accessibility to my creation is exceedingly advantageous.