by Wolfgang Denk

Every genuine piece of artwork is a pilgrimage to an altar in the wilderness of the multidimensional foundations in the depths of the psyche; the artist and his work go hand in hand, both need this mutual guidance. The work creates itself when the matrix, the inner perception of its author, is fruitful. Art is ritual. Ritual is, as Mircea Eliade says, "Reconciliation of the Myths " (the everlasting beginnings).

Susanne Wenger: "Creative thinking and art are not measurable, they are testimonies of truth, and this truth has many faces: “All Religions, after all, are the Religion of Mankind: 1000 Monks / 1000 Religions.

In our sacred groves, there is an eminent sacred species of forest trees called “Agbaayin”, representing “Orí” (“head”), the logos, the sacred spirit of the scriptures (the word). Once a year, they lose their gown of leaves to clear the way for the New. The tiny leaves float like clouds on the lightest breeze to the forest floor, sentimental, sensitive as “Orí.” In Tibet, clouds are a representation of God. A Yoruba proverb says: "Little children can not count the leaves of the Agbaayin tree, nor can the wise old folks count the leaves of the tree. (Omo kékeré kò lè kà ewé Àgbàáyín, àgbàálègba náà kò lè kà ewé Àgbàáyin).

Who can count the faces of truth? Humanity should learn to live with this wisdom! Our projects are like tiny leaves on the tree of life, dedicated to the Logos, which is the Sacred Centre of the Universe and the Source of all Life. Throughout the world and on the most remote horizons of human genius, there are altars of wilderness, sacred origins, altars of perfect sound, the great composers known or anonymous. Their creations are primal power sounds in the emanation of spiritual fertility through eternity. They do not obtrude themselves upon us, they give themselves to us as a generous gift. And there are people, men and women, of sovereign spiritual and physical beauty. They are old. They do not teach because they do not want to change us. They do not want to tailor their delightful wealth to our form. They will take their phenomenal knowledge into their graves, into a deep reservoir, from where they will once again fulfil the genius of our consciousness with this knowledge. The Logos like a Phoenix, it rises from the Ashes.