Exposed

A while ago, in October this year, I’ve been honored with an unexpected gift: a review of my art as well as myself as an artist by a deeply spiritual person and a great artist – Claudio Miklos. This review will definitely be featured in my upcoming book, but I would like to include it here as well.


Claudio MiklosI’m not used to be talkative about someone else’s artworks, or even about my own art creations and experiments – mainly (I suppose) because my silent nature, and also due some sense of self-restraint about any kind of analysis on the ways of art (I’m not a critic; I’m just an observer, at most a mere witness) – but today, when I was just passing by Sabina Nore’s artworks Facebook page I realize that, sometimes, it is worth to express our inner feelings about that bizarre human condition: to be an artist.
 
It’s quite amazing to see how Sabine Nore creative mind has been growing up and bursting out in different aspects. I’m an old man – I mean, I ALWAYS was an old guy, even during my young years – so I often engaged in long contemplations, calm measurements and lonely reflections. That’s why I value highly the maturing processes of other people’s mind and creativity.
 
Therefore, to me it’s important recognize some kind of maturing knowledge, perhaps even wisdom, in the work of an artist. And I’m not talking about maturing skills; I really trying to pointing out something very subtle (even completely imperceptible sometimes) which lurks inside all strong, passionate artist: the true aesthetic bonding between life and art.
 
And I see that in Sabina Nore’s art. At first glance it seems too much self-centered, always calling out her own image, persona, anima. But I don’t think that it should be the case. To think about Nore’s imagery as selfish is to disregard its deep, wonderful implications. I sense a huge quest for self-discoveries in Nore’s artworks, a passionate exploration of the non-being which dwells the boundaries of any personal identity, like a eerie ghost of our true nature.
 
Obviously, I see Nore’s art with Zen Buddhist eyes. And also I see her as an uncanny person, far beyond my reach. I’ve never really meet her; never hear the sound of her voice, the glow of her eyes, the colors of her soul. And such condition gives me an unsuspecting advantage to unravel the mystery of her face. Because, for me, there is no Sabina! I’m only able to catch her image, her name, perhaps to read about her thoughts, but it is just a glimpse of her true reality.
 
And then, there is her imagery, her fantastic world, full of passionate representation. Sabina Nore present us her very identity to be considered and interpreted as we wish, in a surprisingly generous way. And such courage – to lay bare yourself, exposed to view – represents to me how Sabina is humble and detached of herself. There is in fact an empty, selfless quality beyond the painted layers of Sabina’s art.
 
Who is Sabina Nore? As a distant witness of her intense, creative nature, I’m eagerly looking for the answer, as if it was a Zen Buddhist koan investigation. And at the very end of such artistic quest, after going through all her iconic dreams and bizarre landscapes, I’m suspicious that perhaps I’ll only find the echoes of Shakespeare’s alluring conclusion: “the rest is silence”.

~ Claudio Miklos

The Key

A Short Story by Sabina Nore

 
He didn’t know if there was still time.
He ran up, as fast as he could, to climb on top of the book case and see if the key was still safe behind the least favorite of all his books. But alas, the key was gone.
 
Who took it?
When?
How did they know of his secret place?
The box could now be unlocked by someone else.
Someone else?!
 
A cold shiver ran down and up his spine and a million things he hadn’t thought of before suddenly clouded his mind. A chaos of incomprehensible noise and numbing silence blasted like a hurricane through his brain.
 
How could he allow something so precious to slip through his fingers?
He had it. No.
More than that!
Not only was it his but he was the only one who knew of its existence.
Now everything was in question. Suddenly everything was possible.
The box could now be opened by anyone in the whole wide world.
 
If only he would have kept it close by, close to his heart. No. Closer! Under his skin, as part of him.
There it would have been safe. There no one would have ever thought to look for it. Nobody.
 
The Desperate Man by Gustave Courbet

Painting: “The Desperate Man” by Gustave Courbet

Fantastic Art

There are several paintings I have completed in the last few months that I haven’t yet added to the gallery. The reason is ridiculous: labels.
I have a gallery of surreal artworks and one for pop art (or fun art), both of which need to be updated as well. The recent artworks however, don’t really fit in either gallery! I think that’s one of the reason why I like the phrase “art of imagination”, it always fits, but it is also a bit boring and general. So what to do?
 
I am still thinking about it… but here are my fantastic artworks. Not very surreal, not really pop art either…
They are all available for sale, as limited edition prints. If you are interested, please contact me!
 
Sub specie aeternitatis by Sabina Nore

Honesty

Turn me to StoneMy world is filled with beauty, all very safe inside my head.
Then reality hits.
Then I tell it to go away.
We play that game, reality and me.
 
What would happen if I embraced it?
Would it kill me?
Would I still be able to paint?
What would my paintings look like then?
 
All I ever wanted was honesty.
Ruthless honesty.
But is that a lie?
If I really want honesty, why do I prefer my version of reality?
 
I am drowning.
Honestly.
 

Dare to be Magical

( An essay I wrote about a couple of years ago, in May 2010. )

Realistically speaking, who would dare to be magical nowadays? In a world in which everything is measured and calculated, ruled by facts and figures, where a dose of skepticism is a necessary trait for the overall mental well-being.

I shared a personal magical experience with friends, merely my recollection of a walk I took, and felt strangely awkward doing so, even though magic is something very real and very present in our lives, I always have the feeling that it needs to be downsized with humor and sometimes, possibly, even sarcasm.

Occasionally I meet people, online or in real life, which sound slightly (or considerably) loony… they fall for any story they come across, they don’t question things, not enough anyway. I have always questioned everything. And despite of that, I have magic in my life. I could even go as far as to say that my life is magical. Not all the time, or at least I am not aware of this all the time, but every once in a while.
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A Sketch Story by David White

A sequence of events has led to the creation of this very short story by David White, a writer and my friend.
A few days ago Vesna Krasnec, a painter and also a friend, took this photograph of me in a local restaurant close to the museum of fantastic art, during the long night of museums in Vienna.
David, upon seeing the photograph, spontaneously wrote this short story, the term “sketch story” may be fitting. I think I like this term in this particular case not only due to the length of the story, but also because of all the artistic implications.
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Let’s get read to Ramble!

Chances are you don’t know me personally. You may know my paintings, you may be familiar with some of my ramblings, but you don’t know all my stories. You haven’t lived side by side with me to witness me in a multitude of situations in life and so know, for a fact, who I truly am.
 

It’s time to get self-absorbed and self-centered. Here is an exercise.

Who am I?

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