Correspondences





Poetry and graphics are related arts. They both communicate subjective emotions by means of specific aesthetic devices. 



Poetry, the language of languages, is a vertical and temporal art, whereas graphics is a spatial art complementarily working at the representation and re-creation of reality.  Golden Apple , Poem  by George V Precup  and  Beyond Boundaries , Digital Painting by Diana Coatu  are transposing the beholder to a fascinating realm .



Poetry complements and enhances the image, forming an originary unified whole, rediscovering a secret cosmic order within the human innermost universe, awakening the archetypal Image.



Diana Coatu's art invites the viewer to find the mystery of this primordial image at the interference of colors, graphic gesture, and words, the incidence angle of a genuine Genesis.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                
                                                    Golden Apples                                                                                                                                                                              
                                               By     George V. Precup

She’s ruling the distances between us slamming the lid on hate.

Shedding pearls astern she smells like sage.
She’s singing lain on clouds. When she’s caressing you forget
old feelings, she’s waking up some more, new ones.
She’s chaining and forgetting you on her crystal shoulders. Her role -
make me forget I’ve been happy. Sometimes I forget her name
but give her another, like game playing.
Looking at her sleep I distinguished on her left breast, left negligently uncovered,
a mark, the beginning of a leaf on which something was written. But no matter how hard
I was trying to read the word it wouldn’t let me, so on that morning when she was smiling in the sleep, after a reckless night, I called her Golden Apples. Next day, no name.

Now, as I am writing about us, she’s singing lain on clouds,
burning the distances. Her name is Today, mine it’s forgotten. Honey and light are oozing
out of us but we’re not terrified.
We have been there.
	




https://www.artconnect.com/profile/george-v-precup                                                                                                                            https://www.artconnect.com/profile/diana-coatu                 


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