Public intervention through the “P” of the paternal visual artist Nikos Pressas

Public intervention through the “P” of the paternal visual artist Nikos Pressas

His first public intervention, with an allegorical, but particularly caustic text, does through “P”, the acclaimed paternal visual artist and professor of Aesthetic Education at the University of Patras Nikos Pressasenshrining the signs of our times and the forfeiture of moral codes.

The meticulous visual artist, who is known to be strictly limited to his artistic and educational work, sends his own message through “P” about the emptiness of public discourse and the flattening of distinct lines.

In detail, the intervention of Nikos Pressas, through “P”, is as follows:

Desperates, get together, concentrate!

There is one more force that is pending. The forgotten map, wayfaring beings, young people and teenagers (beggars of happiness and power) in the super-market of Mr. Arristos (representative of the generation: here Polytechnic, here Polytechnic) where maturity – which became brutality – still lingers in the year 2024!

– The cynical mantle I wear, perhaps hides an obsession from which I am trying to escape; the banality of Modern Greek Prose, which I have been living unrecognized lately, almost every day, due to topicality.

– Admittedly, in classical times, publicity was not just an event, but a real event that reflected the worldview of each generation. At least!

– Today, publicity – due to topicality – invests in percentages of power, narcissism and arrogance! Panicked, the socialites of the place are desperately searching for words.

– Words that have boundaries with special content weight. A carpet of variety of words for the euphoria of life and the tax of coexistence! Also, guiding words for respecting otherness! Thus, as we live, however, unrecognized, we appreciate – without shame – that everything is the same, without limits, from which emerges the otherness and its respect.

However, knowledge (not current affairs) lists deeply experienced limits, limits of concepts…! Those that inhabit us, worked criteria.

– Save, search. If you don’t visit your roots, best man, your habitat, you’re never going to feel good about yourself.

– Usually deserted, predictable, unexpectedly present. You are already different! You have no one; a nightly diet of loneliness, like a summer’s evening breeze. Cool without the burden of responsibility.

– Fine; no objection. However, as “ours” leave in silence this ungraceful, sexless, chattering world idol of our times, I keep my body in the mouth, in the beak, where according to the Universal Order: “When you fly, you are silent; you rejoice”: The limb aton of humility e.g. the instinctive trust in the self-evident and the animal longing… the pleasure!

– Yes, in the beak, then, of peace and understanding, where Food, Breath, Reason and Soul enter and exit from there. Our copies; like a final sob and calculation, narcissism Existentialism, cynicism and all forms of… ism: Vandalism, obscurantism, sadism, masochism, consumerism, masturbation, humanism, culture!

– Yes, no objection best man; ours! Come, search. You do not deserve the non-existence and hypocrisy of respect for otherness. Have you become a habit of neutering your pets? Unrecognizable anyway, the glow of life was exhausted by the insolence of hope: “Let’s go wherever it comes out…!”.

Young and old. Take a stand, courage!

“Vastered Hopes” of course: If there was no hope of eternity, I would never have seen from my daughter’s neck, hanging (above the center of life), like an adamantine sob, the Word stalactite of expectation, determination and of Sophia.

– A message to my grandson and to all the youth. It is a mistake, I think, because we happened to be born on sacred soil full of history, to take for granted our Future that has just begun!

Epilogue

I was in the ethers a coward; riding on an invisible power, I forgot and slipped. The sky laughed at me; and I fell, and Icarus kissed me on the lips and was silent; carving in the Universe the word: POWER next to the word PISCES!

Are these words left at night in the firmament so as not to lose their way – in this promising carpet of words – Mr. Aristos and his generation!

Good volley! That’s a word too! Maybe… the last one?

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