Art, poetry, and the stories behind the canvas
Welcome to a space where thoughts on art, poetic musings, and the personal narratives woven into each painting come to life. Here, you'll find reflections that invite you to explore the deeper meanings and inspirations behind Valeria's Corner. Whether you're an artist, a collector, or simply an admirer of beauty, we hope these insights resonate with you.
Creative work is always judged. By experts, by non-experts, by anyone who feels like having an opinion. And that’s fine. But what’s interesting is how quickly those opinions can change.
The same artwork can be criticized one day and praised the next, without changing at all. The only thing that changes is how people see it.
When an artist becomes recognized, something shifts. Doubts disappear. People who once didn’t understand suddenly admire. It’s as if approval gives permission to see value.
So maybe the question is not whether the work is good or bad.
Maybe it’s about who decides when it is allowed to be seen as good. These are my thoughts in rhyme about the issue
The crowd
Who knows why crowd is always proud
Why has no doubts, never fades
Why screams so proudly and loud
About decisions never made
About ideas born by others
About feelings never felt
Why common sense often melts
In front of crazy screaming crowd?
Do we really say out loud what we think? Do we express our thoughts as they truly are? I doubt it.
This is what I reflected on while painting “Secret Thoughts.” What we mean to say is often softened, wrapped, or carefully hidden. Our words become a kind of lace delicate, decorative, and sometimes obscuring what lies beneath.
So much is left unsaid, or only half-revealed, that even we can lose sight of our own true meaning.
I roughly draw an oval,
Then some lines inside.
Somebody primitive looks at me,
A face with no shame or pride.
With no emotions, no desires,
I start working on this figure.
I refine the oval, draw eyes that have seen
What my soul has seen.
I doubt if I should make them blue or green.
I draw lips that are ready to speak,
I draw breath that is ready to seek
The meaning of coming to this world.
I mold the being and give her a name.
Does the Creator do the same?
Who are you?
Why have you come?
What do you do
In this picture of mine?
Where are you from?
From what distant lands?
Where does your gaze wander,
And where does it end?
A cat
A little cat and a big vase.
His dreams are huge, he wants to chase
All butterflies in the world.
He wants to be among the bold
Who dare to throw a vase on the floor.
But for now, he needs to grow…