Art Studio Elbe - Verband freischaffender Künstler.

  Author - Brian Hawkeswood                                                                           Nach unten scrollen für die deutsche Übersetzung There are moments, often when I linger before the mirror in the half-light of morning, that I find myself pondering an unspoken injustice—why beauty, in the language of dress, should have become the near-exclusive province of women in the modern world. For one cannot forget that this was not always the case. History, when turned back like the heavy pages of a forgotten missal, reveals centuries in which men rivalled women in their sartorial splendour, where garments were not merely coverings but declarations of power, sensuality, and the desire to belong to the theatre of the beautiful. In the Baroque courts of Europe , it was not the women who were m...

Author- Brian Hawkeswood.                                                                   Nach unten scrollen für die deutsche Übersetzung There are parts of Europe that seem to breathe more softly than others, as though time there is not something that presses upon the living but lingers beside them. In Saxony, I found that presence not in galleries or palaces—though there are many of both—but in the quiet, shaded cemeteries where the living still converse, in their manner of tending and remembering, with the dead.                                                           Loschwitz Cemetery in Dresden. In Australia, cemeteries often seem abandoned to a kind of pragmatic neglect,...

  Author-Brian Hawkeswood.                                                                Nach unten scrollen für die deutsche Übersetzung There are moments in the history of art when the solitude of the painter’s studio is broken—when, instead of retreating into the private intimacy of the canvas, artists step into communion with others who share the same restless longing to see the world anew. These gatherings, these temporary colonies of vision, are not merely social experiments but spiritual alliances—fragile, luminous intersections where ideas, colours, and philosophies mingle like perfumes in a summer air. One feels, reading of them or walking where they once stood, as though each place still trembles with the conversations that once filled it, with the laughter, the quarrels, the searching silences that precede the b...