Litany of Light

In order to be perceived in nature and in plastic works, light needs contrast, to coexist with darkness; if we lack this condition, the viewer is exposed to dazzlement: he stops seeing and "the seer drowns in the primordial sea of ​​light, which at the same time ceases to be experienced as clarity" (1)

In this painting there is a light (I hesitate to call it "The Light"), in which we see a wound or an opening. I can't even define whether it was caused by the tip of the tree branch or if it already existed and this branch is simply seeking it out (like every branch, every bud, have you noticed?). The light spills softly as if through a thread. The same light enlivens and illuminates the bird's breast, a traditional symbol of the human soul. The branch is made of living wood, with green leaves and blossoms. The presence of the surrounding darkness allows us to see the illuminations and gives rise to the forms. Their volumes are appreciated for the dance and contouring between these lights and shadows. Something every painter or draftsman knows. From the beginning of humanity or History (of which we have some record), some blessed souls were able to transform part of what that light reveals, they transformed it into sound, music, words .Some people heard it within themselves, like Ariadne's threads, sonorous and vibrant in a labyrinth. A subtle and luminous thread, always bestowed by grace. There is something about that light that humankind needed to "crystallize" for others, to inherit, the transmission of that light which becomes good, beauty, and wisdom when it manages to reflect and burst forth in our hearts like that we can see in the the bird, drawing us out of the suffering of darkness. The attempt to crystallize that light (I say "attempt" because one cannot do that with something so full of life) was sketched—and only sketched, for it is beyond our rational understanding, and mystery protects its sacredness—in oral tradition, transmitted through generations, and later with wedges in clay, rock, papyrus, parchment, and paper as we advanced technologically. These attempts to capture the light that illuminates and gives meaning to human existence were codified in various sacred books: the Zend Avesta, Gathas, Vedas, Tanakh, and the Bible. And there I have erred on the side of literalness in depicting several leaves with arcane letters, all nourished by the same light and wounded by the branch that seeks beyond them or within them all. I see them all pierced by the same quest and all bearing fragments of the same light. I don't know who coined the stained-glass metaphor to explain this, but it seems fitting: the same light passes through the stained glass, its rays inevitably tinged with the color of each pane; some beams are lighter, others darker, the range can be vast, and the whole, the variety of these lights, is exquisitely beautiful. The mystery of color: light chose to be tinged in this existence, to play a little with the thousand colors. But that is a topic for another discussion.

For my record, I'll add a short excerpt from Sloterdijk's book, specifically from his chapter on Light, found on page 76. It's so masterful in its synthesis of light, related to his allegory of the sun in Chapter VI, Section XIX of the Republic (should anyone wish to delve deeper):

"...optical idealism makes its decisive move here, prioritizing visual thought over sensory vision. For Plato, Helios is the image of the Good that flows from the realm of ideas into the world of the senses. From the analogy of the sun and the deity (Goodness), an ontological hierarchy is established, with the intelligible divine principle at the top..." "It is no coincidence that medieval metaphysics interpreted the Fiat Lux of Genesis in a Platonic sense, since making light and creating the sun are the first true acts of God"...

Thank you for reading!

(1)The Aesthetic Imperative, Chapter In the Light, p. 79. Peter Sloterdijk. Akal 2020