We Have Brought Heaven Nearer To You - Part 2

A few days ago I posted the first part of this exhibition, which is maybe one of the most out of the box type I've ever visited. Seeing these paintings was one thing, but understanding them was a bit more difficult and required a lot of research. Each has a deep meaning and it puts your brain and your knowledge to the test. I don't mind as these are the ones you will remember for the obvious reasons.

Damsel Picking Figs

First of all, I looked at the painting and saw a very unique style, similar to naive art, but I'm not sure this qualifies as naive art. Based on what I saw from the artist, I don't think it is. Next thing I did was try to research if there's a story behind it, but I either failed or there's no specific story. However, with this occasion I could learn what damsel mean, as I've never heard the word. Most likely it's not widely used either.

Wet Nurse Fish

Fish have their own life, different from humans, but the artist merged the two on this canvas and depicts fish as nurse and infant. There's a huge milk bottle on the desk as well, none of which fish uses. I'm sure I don't understand what the artist means, but it's an interesting one.

Do Not Anger The Gods

Gods have always been a topic liked by artists and you can see various interpretations of different Gods all over the world. However, I haven't seen many, if any at all in the past few years, so I was happy to see one here. Based on the paintings I saw from the artist, the sea, water and seamanship takes a central role in his art, so I suppose the God we're seeing in this painting could be either Neptune, God of the Sea, Member of the Dii Consentes, or Poseidon, King of the sea, God of the sea, storms, earthquakes, and horses.

Most likely at first glance the painting can be confusing as the dark blue dominates, but at a better look, you can see the angry face of the God. That dark blue represents the angry sea storm, which most likely is created by Neptune, as a punishment to sailors. It's quite impressive in my opinion. It's not easy to paint such a concept in a subtle way, but the artist nailed it.

The Fisherman And The Seagull

If you run a search you can see, there are several paintings, photos and stories with the very same title. It's a common topic as there's no fisherman without seagulls (but there are seagulls without fishermen). Legend has it that a seagull can be a blessing and a curse too. Blessing because a seagull can spot a fish and a curse because it can catch the fish before the fisherman. In this case it may be the latter as the fisherman is taking out his net of the water.

There are four canvases merged together here and if you have a closer look, the background looks like made of small tiles.

Dancing Cloud

Looking at the painting above, was trying to remember if I've seen cloud paintings, but I can't recall any. I love this. It's unusual to say the least, but fantastic.

This is a bit confusing to me now as both the Hungarian and Romanian title says My God, but in English it is God of Dandelions, which is a totally different thing. The size and form of the canvas is just as unusual as the painting.

Blue Sea

First Time On Waters

Most likely that's how I would feel in such a tiny boat in angry waters.

Pilgrimage Of The Little Mouse

Rainmaker Charmers

And we arrived to the artwork I loved the most. It's everything but unconventional and maybe that's why I love it. For me it has less significance as a concept as my culture has no such beliefs, I don't believe in such things, but from artistic point of view, what you see above is wonderful.

Rain charmer mythology, a captivating side of folklore in numerous cultures worldwide, tells the captivating stories of people possessing the electricity to summon rain and manage the weather.

Rain charmer mythology has its roots in humanity's deep connection to the natural world. Early agricultural societies depended heavily on favorable weather prerequisites for bountiful harvests. When rains failed or droughts persisted, communities became to men and women believed to possess the capacity to have an effect on the skies.

Throughout history, rain charmer figures have taken on quite a number forms, from shamans and medication guys to religious leaders and sensible women. In Native American cultures, for instance, the "Rainmaker" was once a respected figure who carried out rain dances and rituals to call upon the spirits for much-needed rain. In India, the "Monsoon Priest" or "Varunastra" invoked the deity Varuna to bring monsoon rains to parched lands. source

If you have a closer look at each of these paintings, you can see representatives of different cultures. My knowledge is far from enough, to recognize which character belongs to which culture, but maybe that's not the point.

African?

Asian?

If you're from these continents, let me know if there's such thing in your country, as rainmaker.

Magic Moment

Most likely, when you find yourself face to face with such a big fish, you can consider it a magic moment. What I like about this painting is the colors used by the artist. The black background and the vibrant green, combined with a little purple is wonderful.

Smuggled Goods

I think this one speaks for itself, so no words needed here.

As you can see, there's nothing conventional in Levente Csatlós's art and that's the best thing.

There was a story printed out on the wall. I took some photos, as always, but the story was quite long and the story on the photo is difficult to read, so here's the story.

We have brought Heaven nearer to you
At Heaven's Gate a Saint had three slices of bread. All his wealth. Beside him a white wolf sniffed the air. Three dewdrops, gentleness and peace of soul united the two. After giving the wolf Living Water, the Saint patted him on the top of the head, saying: "Heaven is within us, my dear, in us, my beloved," and handed him the bread.“
The Universe is discrete. In His magnanimity He does not let Himself be heralded when He gives. It is spatial, and precisely this infinite containment exempts it from the alteration of time. The reflection is of each of you depending on the Light you carry inside your soul, which is why dialogue, as an elaborate form of representation, exempts the demonstration of authenticity through the very recognition of the Source as the original mother of Creation.
The eurythmic cadence is born and in turn gives birth to the perfect order, exemplary of a perpetual cosmic rigor. In this perfect balance, the Watcher, by appropriating the Divine Logos opens windows, worlds, gifts precisely where oblivion has taken the place of the joy of being. The resurrection of the memory of Heaven brings us together now. The story of the one who exists continues with the story of the one who gives from what he received so generously from the High. Absolution to dreaming bears with it the release of Creation in its fundamental form of connection with absoluteness, and thus the navigator in the blue tunic fulfils his mission as the keeper of each passage through the Universe through a living memory, made possible only by recalling the initial being.
Poseidon kisses his forehead. Wary and slightly clumsy, he unwraps the first gift: The Story of Seven. Alpha and Omega. Dawn was breaking. In the light of the sunrise, the woman-Soul-Mahram was allaying listening as the closest witness, to the story of the Resurrection. She was wowing existence with the rigor of bathing so as to purify the spirit into lavender bouquets, thus preventing the temptation of Roman laurels to crumble down and bury perfection. "Give onto Caesar what is Caesar's and onto God what is God's" once uttered, elegantly solves the trap of duality by bringing to light the fullness of the Grail and the restoration of the Heavenly unity under the weight of the body suspended and nailed to the canvas of the Ascension. For Light, dear ones, is nothing but the rejection of instinct, of the gross nature of being, the transformation of duality through verticalization into the Immaterial Beginning.
The sea had brought a piece of wood to the Shore.
– I carved the Angel from the Cross. I melted the nails in longing and that's how the wings were born. Copper wings. I craved for the upper realms and the bridge between Heaven and Earth. Know that they still carry Your Ascension. Nothing changed. Gold is the Soul. Silver is the thread you let me weave my self-forgetfulness. Quiver wings. The lavender flowers are for all those who crucified you. I share them in the joy of forgiveness and healing of those who spat.
Poseidon kissed his forehead once more. God was already there. He was smiling at him. The Soul Treasure was safe.
In Oltenia, the Caluşari had finished completing the Earth and were bringing their peace to the seventeen days dedicated to the Soul. The constellation Yod was lighting the sky. The Pleiades were shining. In their light all the rainmakers of the air were invoking Heavens protection over the crops. In Bărăgan, the slender fountains in their composure were watering the spirit of immortality into magic, joy and chronical. The dragoons lit the fire in the hearths, blowing plumes of smoke in the heat of midday. In the distance, only the water-melon could be heard splitting ripe. The traveling mouse respectfully greets the sailor, solemnly promising him the fulfilment of all his wishes. The seagulls, keeping up with the mouse, urgently arrogate the role of herald, announcing the approach of the shore. Three dolphins and two waves broken on the stern were happily splashing. A bulbous perch, something more serious, blesses the sea, the sky and the freedom of the two. In the Sinai Peninsula, the Monastery of Saint Catherine was preparing for praying. The Book of Creation, once brought from the Altar, carried with it the blessed bride to the joy of all. At home, on the shores of Baikal, Peter was distributing the fish blessing the water for its gift. Luca was nursing the wounds of humanity as he had been allowed to do longside the doctors who still remembered him. Anton and John were sitting under the leaves of the birches in autumn, blessing the next day. Eagle Feather was worshiping the sun as his ancestors did, and thus the birth of the Sun Dandelion was fulfilling its destiny in embodied desire. The carpets were wowing their story leaving room for the Orient to dream in peace. It smelled of bread and fresh baklava. It was like the beginning. In front of the darkness, at the bow, the Angel was keeping watch. His own fragility and unwavering faith in kindness, joy, admiration, gratitude, unconditional love, truth, freedom, and hope had managed to save an entire humanity from oblivion.
“Heaven is within us, my dear, within us, my beloved," said the Saint and wiped his tired forehead.
Three dewdrops and the gentle peace of the Soul united the two. It was like in the Beginning. The Living Water we were talking about is our gift to you, the gift of the unaltered memory of the one who is. The Giver. source

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