Art is not what the artist puts in front of us. But it is the -inner- struggle to reach love. The presented pieces have come true despite the mind, although it seems as if they are products of mind. Knows it but cannot predict generally where it stands between genius and madness. When he falls into the deserts, and when there are mountains in front of him like the same as Ferhat's, he would never behave different from an ant even if he knew he would become ash. He gets bends at each of his work like a diver diving deep under. He shakes. The recognition of the size he reached in his exile feeds his loneliness. He delivers one of his biles to the world in each of his works. Adventure is only a vehicle he rides in this adventure.
Art is not what the artist puts in front of us. But it is the -inner- struggle to reach love. The presented pieces have come true despite the mind, although it seems as if they are products of mind. Knows it but cannot predict generally where it stands between genius and madness. When he falls into the deserts, and when there are mountains in front of him like the same as Ferhat's, he would never behave different from an ant even if he knew he would become ash. He gets bends at each of his work like a diver diving deep under. He shakes. The recognition of the size he reached in his exile feeds his loneliness. He delivers one of his biles to the world in each of his works. Adventure is only a vehicle he rides in this adventure.