Everything visible and invisible has its own parameters, personal meaning, and its what it is. Every object, subject, feel, idea, impression, existing or not, has its individual characteristics.This infinite variety, with its subtle moments and individuality, can only be felt and recreated by the true artist. If he is going to paint a breath, let it be short, ethereal, disembodied, if he is going to paint spring, let it be colorful, rich, complex in textures, diverse. If he is going to paint a portrait, let it be the exact image, external and mental, if it is going to be a thought, let it be like that.
 Today, style often means uniformity, called recognizability. You draw a laughing child, a running horse or a thoughtful old man with one style, manner, colors or expression. Well… nope! In my opinion, this is not a quality, but a lack of talent. A truly exquisite artist, empathetically captures every nuance, meaning and feature. There are no images in music, but listening to the strenght of play sounds, frequency, order, and we create and experience them. Fine art has the preference of depicting the thing, but it can also use the techniques of music for a multi-layered effect. Some things are ephemeral, or momentary like a breath of air, a haiku, a falling autumn leaf, others heavy, continuous, long-lasting, like battle scenes, family drama, a rough sea. Still others are without a clear image such as faith, love, thought. If it is a portrait, the model can be of a heavy or light character, specific features or otherwise unmemorable, expressing a momentary state, a grimace or permanent absorption, etc. A good author knows how to see and read insightfully, and to recreate the invisible in the visible!
 Yours Z.G.
 P.S. Portrait of one of my favorite artists, Gerhard Richter, 46-61cm, charcoal, acrylic and dry pastel on Strathmore paper.

This is how the things happen in the art.🙂

Few years ago, I found surfing as usually in the net, and impressed by a picture of an old man. This is inspire me to drew a portrait of him. The techniques and materials that I used for this purpose is Charcoal and charcoal pencil “General” on “Strathmore” professional paper, 30x40cm.
Now free for sale, with or without copyright license.
Few years later, I came across a story about the same person and his thoughts:

“THE CAPRICOUS OLD MAN”
The old man, in his last days of the life, has lived in a care home.
After his death, people thoughts that he passed away without leaving any valuable trace in his life.
When the nurses began to put away his meager belongings, they found out a very interesting poem, that impress with its content and meaning employees of the care home.
And this old man, who died as a beggar in some godforsaken small town in Australia, has blown the internet with his depth soul.
The poem sounds very poetic and strikes people all over the world, with deepness of its thoughts and a beauty of rhymes.

THE CAPRICOUS OLD MAN
What are you seeing nurse? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you gazing on me?
Grumpy old fool man…
Still living somehow,
Half-blind, half-witted,
Swallowing the food through vain?
When you shout on me “Go on, try!”
And you think i cant notice what are you doing?

Always losing slippers or socks?
For nothing I am begging,
But allowing to do whatever you want?
A day nothing to fill it
But only bathing and eating with?

So what do you think?
Is that what you see?
Open your eyes, nurse.
Don’t look at me.
I’ll tell you who I am.
Even sitting here quietly,
Obeying your desire,
Eating according to your command.
I am still a 10 years old boy who lives with his parents,
Also, brothers and sisters with,
Who all of us still love each other.
A youth of sixteen, with wings on his feet,
Still dreaming to meet his soulmate
A groom soon to be 20 old years,
whose heart skips a beat,
Remembering the oath he promised to keep.
Here i am 25 years old, and having my baby,
Who need my cares and safety home.
Here on my 30s, the baby has grown
We are so close each other, we are so strong.
And at my 40s, my sons are old enough to
leave the homme.
But my wife is still next to me,
And she give me the right,
to be some sad.
And here on my 50s, kids again,
Playing near my feet.
My love and I with kids again.
But darkness is come around-my wife is dead.
I am taking a look in the future,
And terrifying of it.
Now I am living because of the kids,
And their own kids.
Thinking about the years passed…
About the love, that I had.
Now I am elder…And life is cruel
Sarcastic making ageing to looks something fool.
The body is ageing, becoming unshapeful
The Highness and power yet gone.
And now, here at this place, where the hearth has been
Is replaced by stone
But inside of it, still living a young man of me.
The hearth still beating, again and again.
I am remembering whole of the joy,
I am remembering whole of the pain.
And I am living and love!
In this life as well as before.
Thinking of years, that was not enough
And when they flew so fast and gone.
And I am agreeing with the fact,
That nothing can continue forever in fact!
So people, open your eyes,
Open them and look right.
Not some capricious elder!
If you look carefully,
You will see ME!
Think about this poetry,
Next time, when you meet some old man!
And understand that sooner or later,
You will reach the same age in the time.
And remember, that most beautiful things in the world,
cant be touch or seen, but you can feel them with hearth!

The Art is any act, that domination purpose is to create, recreate and resemble visible and invisible nature through the human prism of view. But, because of the different points of view, experience and specifics of the artists, there exist poor, average, good, excellent or genius results.

Here, I am introduce You, some of my artworks from my last exhibition organized with the support of the National Culture Foundation.