SORiaN ArT ©

Story:

The painting I called Blind dreamers talks about the futility of dreaming to a higher human condition, while still blinded by the attachments of our path through the world. The scenery is situated on top of the clouds, at the time of dusk, when sun sets beyond the them, illuminating the horizon like a lantern behind a shoji wall. The scene depicts imaginary characters following a trail of suspended stones, laying on top of the clouds. Some of these characters are blindfolded, with broken, corroded  wings, unable to fly, grounded by their condition. The central character is different, having an altered appearance, not quite human, not totally un-human nonetheless, still holding onto his mobility and having a heart and a brain, with a certain degree of connectivity.

This metaphoric distance between the heart and the brain is not too long, but certainly not the shortest one either, as a reminiscent Buddhist thought was suggesting as the path for an enlightened being. All these characters are following one another on this trail, not especially lucidly or organized, but simply caught in the gravity of their path, which is actually the force of attraction of their own attachments to the world. They walk this path heavily and their moves are somehow frozen in time, as if they were asleep, dreaming their human condition as their ultimate reality.

At the upper level of the painting, protruding between the clouds, an eye, opened, with the eyelashes symbolically illustrated as teeth, replacing the eyelids,  an account on the un-obviousness of the truth;  the sight of truth must be brutally stripped off the world of appearance, as it does not reveal itself willingly.