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AGONIES OF DOUBT

Acrylic on canvas
90 x 120 cm

I always felt for the ancient monks, frozen in the high altitudes of unreality, doomed to their parasitic lives ordained by the sublime. Biology has been craving, since the start of mankind, for physical ecstasies, while the church was hiding behind a formless simulacrum. I believe that monks and cardinals albeit being suffocated in God must have endured doubt ridden elucubrations and agonies of the flesh. Drowning in God is nothing but an act of refuge from our own individuality, right? Here, we see a monk, painted in a tenebrist fashion, eying up several concubines, his hands folded in a prayer, this making us believe that he’s in inner turmoil. The expression of his eyes in stark contrast to his hands, almost antonymic. He feels cornered by shame but saturated by bitterness. A bitterness that maybe finds its roots in a Bible advocated pseudo-castration? Does Man exist in order to think, love and will? Isn’t theology nothing but speculative philosophy? The upper half of the painting we see courtesans toying with the monks mind. They remind us of American pulp illustration with a daub of Manara. The blonde women on the lower left, looks traumatised by the spectacle, she represents the collective sub-consciousness. Embrace and master your suffering, and get rid of your clerical domesticity, my little monk. I can hear Martin Luther is giggling somewhere.


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