The aim of Art is to express its own self by the means of its specially codified articulation. Whether one choses to employ language, paint or plastic, as a mean of expression, it matters little in the outcome. Art has always had its way, and never failed – what has is public reception. In this day, when much craving for realism and concrete is asked for, it has embraced the shape of abstract and ideal. By opposing the modern demands of Life, it stirs us from our sensing percieving, and points to the introspecitive and intuitive. Turning to these two, which go hand in hand, we are likely to find closely associated romanticism. The meaning of romanticism has shifted its form and rules in the past centuries, but it was always present in them. There is in Thebes the young girl professing she was born for no other purpose than to love. Amongst the reeds, there shifts the nymph into the laurel tree, its bark swollen by sweet – liped god's tears. On the island of Albion the king passes into the shadow of Avalon. Back in Italy, the maiden pots her lover's head with basil and mourns for her life. The young prince in the North sacrifices his life in attempt to avenge his kingly father. The doctor's wife ruins herself and her family, to end her life in sorrow and agony. The modern Narcissus achieves eternal youth for the price of his soul. We feel a certain deterioration from this image in the time that came afterwards, which may be attributed to the external circumstances that spun our beliefs, culture, taste and thought. Something deeply changed grew within the contemporary thought, and through Life realises itself by strict exactness. Through Art, it realises by fluid abstractness. As a result, many refuse it, some agree with it, while the minority strives to feel it. The good question to ask oneself, when facing the contemporary Art, would be how to reach for the meaning with what is present in front of one. For, very so often, we might feel an isolated vagueness scratching at our minds and emotions, and turn away from it. The starvation in the incomprehensible frightens us, because it is the answer to the strict exactness – for which we haven't asked a question. In this light and its shades, we search for the long lost ideal of romanticism. „Romanticism is always in front of life“, Oscar Wilde stated in The Decay of Lying. In the past century we have witnessed a few attempts of applying it to the modern Art, but in vain. Where Marsyas once used to cease in his song, in his being, there came an ever – fulfilling silence. It is not uncommon to see young readers or admireres of Art returning to the old masters nowdays, and it delights their teachers to see so. What should disturb us, is their lack of notice for their contemporaries. It simply urges us to refine our methods, reach for the pure and unbroken visions – untouched - and confront our self – restrictions. We have become overfocused on self – protection and preservation from crude attacks, imposed by the fashion of our time. What is needed, much as ever, is to embrace the emotions, purified by their sense of rawness. This comes to be the vital substance of all creation. Without it how much longer are our inner worlds to endure?
Oh, give us complex beauty, tender beauty, distant beauty – but always, always – our cry is for beauty.