Giacometti comforts me.
Always.
His paintings, his sculptures and his words,
Even seeing his face in a photograph touches my heart.
Forever humble, doubtful and warm.
Him and his work.
His oeuvre is the pursuit of something unattainable.
A hopeless quest.
As he once said:
“It is impossible to do a thing the way I see it because the closer I get the more differently I see.”
A painting never looks the same.
Nor does a book.
Or a song.
It’s about distance, time and oneself.
Angle is key.
In art and in life.
Maybe everyday problems too are a matter of perspective.
Too close, too distant.
Who knows.
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