Member-only story
Pentimento
Ordinary Caravaggisti
Sometimes they miss the days
that haven’t come yet;
those perfectly shaped images
their artistic mind draw so many times
that seem like experiences already lived.
Painted on the “blue” canvas of the daily
“marathons” and “sprints”,
coloured by green hope and red desire,
those eydaimonic dreamwishes
replace life every day.
In the beginning, it seems that
the more these animated paintings
repeat their creation,
the more the redemption offered.
So, the “painters” miss them, in the end;
until… that turning point
where the desired experience
has been drawn and drawn so many times
that its arrival is already futile.
The just-dreaming painters
get enthusiastic and then bored
of something they spirally lived and re-lived
— in their heads — ,
painting the dream over the wish,
with only slight differences each time,
according to the tension of the inner lack.
Those Caravaggisti get exhausted
by the antithesis between their paintings
and the one life paints for them “now”;
eaten up by the over-usage of chiaroscuro.
A strange feeling of being betrayed
breathes somewhere in a dark corner,
and deep inside,
they all want to return
to the only really blissful condition
they have ever experienced,
to that unique dark and quiet place
where no need for painting existed,
where effortless living
was the only thing they did;
in their mother’s womb.
