gpaolo.art

Tag: Life

  • Hymn to the Simple Life

    A wheel of cheese, fragrant bread freshly baked from the old wood-fired oven, a glass of red wine that gathers the light of day.

    And a little robin in flight, like a light thought, come to celebrate this sacred daily communion.

    This was the authentic happiness that accompanied our grandparents when they returned from the fields, or after leading the animals along the paths of the mountain pastures.

    A happiness made of little, yet so full.

    Outside, the sky could be heavy with rain, low clouds crawled among the Alpine pastures, but inside the hut burned the flame of refuge, of quiet, of peace.

    The shepherd, a simple man, did not torment himself with questions about tomorrow.

    He walked in the present, with dignity, facing every unexpected event without worry.

    Worry is the disease of the man of the city, who runs without rest, stumbles over his own desires and complains about every obstacle on his path towards ambition.

    The shepherd does not.

    He lives in silence and waiting, he ignores the deep reason for events, but he knows how to recognize the beauty of the small and sincere gifts that life offers him. In the warmth of his cabin, in the light of a sunset that dyes the wine ruby, he gives thanks – in silence, with his heart – for the bread, the cheese, and the gentle flight of a robin

    TITLE:   

    Hymn to the Simple Life

    SUPPORT:

    Cotton canvas on frame

    SIZE:

    30 x 50 cm

    TECHNIQUE:

    Oil on canvas

    DATE:

    June 2025

    SERIAL N.:

    20250601

    NOTES:

    Fantasy subject, made entirely with a spatula

  • The Missing Point

    In the beginning, there was the line. Infinite, unchanging, luminous. It stretched silently from past eternity into the future, with no beginning and no end — like a timeless breath. It was true life, eternal life. Upon this line, suspended beyond the tangible, men and women walked in harmony with the divine order. They moved along the upper part of the line, wrapped in serene light, in an Eden where each step was understanding, presence, peace.

    But the perfection of the line concealed a secret.

    Along its perfect and linear course, a point was missing. A tiny absence, almost imperceptible — a void of infinitesimal size, as a mathematician might say: something that takes up no space, and yet it is there. An opening.

    And so, unaware, men and women, one by one, stumble upon that point. And fall.

    They fall beneath the line.

    They awaken in the earthly life — a world that appears fluid, unstable, ever-changing. Shapes shift, truth blurs, all previous reference points dissolve. Humanity forgets the line, and the light it carried. The memory of the eternal fades into the fog of the material experience.

    In the earthly dimension, humans struggle. They believe this is the only life. They seek security, they build, they hoard — sometimes at the expense of others. They cry out in loss, fight in fear, and withdraw in confusion. Suffering embraces them, and time urges them on.

    Yet not all surrender.

    Some, even immersed in the liquid realm of earthly life, do not fully forget what they no longer know. Some love. Some care. Some help their companions to rise, to walk, to search. Some look upward, without knowing why, and move toward the light.

    And then, one day, the point returns.

    The missing point appears again — but now not as a fall, but as a passage. It is death, yes, but not an end. It is the breach that allows one to rise again. The slender opening connecting the lower world to the higher one. And then, if the human heart has remained open, if the soul still listens, they can ascend.

    They emerge above the line once more.

    And now they are not the same. They remember. They recognize. They are in tune again with the Divine, reconnected to the infinite from which they came. Life resumes its eternal flow — but this time, in fullness. The being is restored in serenity, in wholeness, in truth.

    And the painting falls silent, but it tells all.

    TITLE:   

    The Missing Point

    SUPPORT:

    Cotton canvas on frame

    SIZE:

    90 x 60 cm

    TECHNIQUE:

    Oil on canvas

    DATE:

    May 2025

    SERIAL N.:

    20250501

    NOTES:

    Fictional subject, entirely made with a spatula

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