Rarefied Air

December 7, 2024


As artists, we all strive for mastery, but there’s something uniquely isolating about reaching a level where there are very few, if any, who are walking beside you. That feeling of being in a space so far removed from the everyday experience can be both empowering and lonely. The solution, for me, lies in one of the most profound and ancient forms of connection available to us: dialogue with the past.

Conversation Beyond Time

The past holds a wealth of knowledge, and the great masters, though no longer here in the physical world, still speak to us through their works. When I engage with their paintings, their sculptures, their writings, I’m not simply looking at what was—they become my contemporaries. It’s as though we are in the same room, discussing the nuances of color, form, composition, and emotion. I find that in many ways, this is a more direct and meaningful conversation than any I could have with a living artist today.

Why? Because those artists of the past are free of the distractions and trends that so often cloud the modern artistic experience. They created not for the approval of critics or the expectations of the market, but out of a pure dedication to their craft. Whether it's the genius of Leonardo da Vinci, the haunting melancholy of Rembrandt, or the groundbreaking innovation of Picasso, their works contain a kind of timeless wisdom that transcends any temporal limitations.

When I look at their work, I don’t just see technique; I see an approach to life, a commitment to understanding the human experience in ways that few living artists can offer. There’s a level of depth and focus in their work that often feels impossible to replicate today, in a world of constant digital distractions, quick trends, and ever-shifting tastes.

Rarefied Space of Mastery

What sets these masters apart isn’t just their technical skill, but their way of thinking about art as a lifelong pursuit, an ongoing dialogue with the world and with themselves. This is the playing field I find myself on—a space where the competition is not with other artists around me, but with those who have come before me, those who have defined the very boundaries of what art can be. I’m not dismissing the work of modern painters; instead, I’m recognizing that the truly profound insights into the human condition—those that transcend trends and fashions—are found in the dialogue across centuries.

It’s rare to find anyone in the contemporary art world who feels like they are operating on the same level, in the same realm. Sure, there are those who may come close, who may show flashes of brilliance or offer moments of insight, but most often, I find myself looking inward or backward rather than outward. This is why the past serves as such an important touchstone for me. Through it, I can engage in a dialogue with likeminded souls who are dedicated to the same ideals of mastery, who sought answers to the same eternal questions. And though they may not be here in the flesh, their work speaks louder than any contemporary commentary ever could.

A More Direct Way to Dialogue

In the modern world, it's easy to get caught up in the noise of the present. Social media, viral trends, and the endless churn of modern art circles can often feel like static, pulling us away from the deeper truths that art is capable of revealing. But when I turn to the past, when I sit with the work of those who shaped the course of art history, I feel as though I am connecting with something unfiltered, unmediated, and pure.

This dialogue is a conversation of equals, even though I am separated from them by centuries. Each brushstroke, each chisel mark, each decision made in the process of creation speaks volumes. It's a direct conversation, one not influenced by any outside noise, but instead shaped by a shared commitment to something eternal and profound. And for me, that is the beauty of engaging with the past: it’s a way to have a more direct, unclouded conversation with the minds that shaped the very essence of art itself.

The Journey Continues

In the end, it’s not about elevating myself above others. Rather, it’s about finding a space where I can explore art in its deepest, most challenging forms, without the distractions and superficialities of modern trends. As an artist, I look to the past because it offers me the opportunity to speak with like-minded individuals, even if they’ve long since passed from this realm. Their work is a gateway to a higher plane of understanding, a place where art is not simply about aesthetic appeal or technique, but about capturing the very soul of the human experience. And as I continue my own artistic journey, I know that the conversation with the past will remain my most treasured dialogue—one that will never grow old.