Near the fields with the sheep with red numbers on their backs, I am reminded why nothing could convince me that not all artists believe they are eggs.
They point at rain clouds and out falls snow. We may have not much concept of marketing yet…still more important is We have a voice.
The voice.
Out of intellectual
property.
Our own.
I understood nothing of what Ismo Alenko sang about. However we cannot allow a pornography ban in Europe affect art by the old masters.
This rather politically motivated choice (not made but discussed highly in the press) would reverse the Renaissance…and let’s not speculate about Da Vinci.
Every master piece was an ode to the human body, an intimate study between object of perception and the artist himself. Every shadow drawing a fine line between animal and beauty.
With this rigidity in opinion, they might mark history as blank and make us all eggs.