It is always the same. Somehow deconstruction is inevitable; our drawings are not. There is an evening, a moment, a coffee in the canteen, a look into someone’s eyes… instants where somehow we step into one another. These intersections are indeed often a lifework. In our case there is a touch, a gesture — how one holds the brush, how one moves the arm. The dance on the paper, the composure, the attitude towards a drawing; this moment is the value of an artwork. The experience; adventures on the surface; the affair into the canvas.

The moment of painting, that trance is unique, it is truthful and sincere — as veritable as art can be — and it is the only thing that interests us. The moment of painting, that intoxication, highness and frenzy. The outcome is irrelevant. After “the moment” comes something, a thing (a painting, a drawing), that often does not matter to us. This moment can hardly be shared. Therefore the artwork has failed, it is a futile expression. The painting is no longer me, nor is the experience and trance, contained within, represented or explained. I am not that. That is not me. Maybe it is you. Our imagery encounters self through sound, converges into noise, zoom. Crash and hubbub. Riot. Vibrancy, to be rapid. The unmusical tone of a pencil.

Intuition. The search in a room. Another language — a dialogue of disquietude, a translation. That’s us: the interface be—tween symbol and intensity. Discussion and cognizance. Through the act of creation (drawing, moving the pencil, painting, singing) a new layer of thinking occurs. Therein one sees the world differently. One meditates in a variety of ways. This perspective exists nowhere else but in this relationship be—tween the paper and the artist’s body. The artwork resonates. A resonance imperative through the act of creation. One can understand oneself as a resonance chamber. As an echo that walks around, reflects sound, and locates it inside the lines of the drawing.

We release that dance to discussion, to dialogue. Because the experience of an artwork’s life is the value of our addiction. And because it doesn’t belong to us anymore.

“Notes on Dialogue”, extract from a conversation with the painter Pedro Moraes Landucci, January 2017