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One artist about another

What would happen if a person would not keep his memories and feelings inside his head or brain, but carried them in his hair of around his head? What would happen if a person could be seen with an exotic-eyed lovely, wonderful face of a girl, drawn in muffled, luminous colors and mercifully strong lines thet grow into a multidimensional sphere? What would happen if we could lift up the purples turning to pink and the golden grayish green colors, and we could just touch her silky skin? What would happen if suddenly the world were destroyed and God were only left with Miklós Farago’s paintings to recreate Creation? What would happen if aesthetics could finally and irrevocably define exactly what beauty is.

According to László Garai, “beauty is the symbolic living experience of the human need for freedom.”

What is freedom? To have endless space, eternal time and the totality of choice. If I live eternally and if I’m always present everywhere, then everything possible and everything impossible will happen to me and I cannot make a wrong choice, since error will have no consequence.

A work of art is all the more beautiful if more and more space and time can be fitted into its boundaries, the larger and larger window it opens to its still-frozen deity and into an unrepeable mold and frozen momentum.

I’m looking at Farago’s paintings. I do not exactly know what genius is. It is a wild-scale and relative category depending on several factors. It is full of historical, sociological, pre-determined random factors and elements. Besides this I will attempt to describe it.

In my opinion, genius is the 21st floor from where a lot of potentials will jump, but only those survive who at 13th floor grow wings, and fly to the heavens. I do not know if Farago is a genius or not. One thing I know for certain though. He is now at the 16th floor and his wings are already grown. In the heavens he is eagerly awaited by those smiling and crying exotic-eyed girls with non-worldy light shining in their star-speckled hair, full of houses promising lodging and burning bushes of prophecy.

I believe in Miklós Farago’s vision that the world is such, and if I were God, I would use his pictures to create the universe a second time, a third time and through infinity over and over again.



Gyula Hernádi
writer, historian