Art is a journey into the most unknown thing of all - oneself. Nobody knows his own frontiers… I don’t think I’d ever want to take a road if I knew where it led.

Louis Kahan
    When we read a story, we inhabit it. The covers of the book are like a roof and four walls. What is to happen next will take place within the four walls of the story.
    Look with innocent eyes, very open. That innocence is always there. It’s a sense of wonder.
    Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for, when they scrawl their names in the snow.
    There are days when solitude, for someone my age, is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.
    The true poem rests between the words.
    Every great architect is - necessarily - a great poet. He must be a great original interpreter of his time, his day, his age.
    Music falls on the silence like a sense,
A passion that we feel, not understand.
    Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?
Mario Deluigi - 1901-1978

http://www.mariodeluigi.it/

‘It will never be the case that colour will gush light; the contrary is true –light alone is colour.’ (1970)

‘At times I have such fear of removing so much of the picture that I leave shadows whose only role is to clarify the concept of my light. They are the shadows of my fear. Fear that is nothing if not desert.’ (1975)

‘Because colour illuminates itself with the sign, the sign must illuminate the colour.’ (1962)

    Art is a journey into the most unknown thing of all - oneself. Nobody knows his own frontiers… I don’t think I’d ever want to take a road if I knew where it led.
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