Marko Jakše: MADE IN FRANCE, 2

On Friday, 25th of March 2005 at 8pm, an opening of the Marko Jakše painting exhibition took place.

This time he introduced himself with a new collection of paintings entitled Made in France, which were painted when he was living in France in the year 2004. Exhibition in the KiBela gallery was opened until the 17th of April 2005.

The painting is in again. Well, it was never out. Not out of herself at least. Maybe she just took a little walk to have a talk with herself, a confidential one. The ones that are needed sometimes. To find again the tranquility which she needs to stay wholesome and not to jut out or to miss anything. Because she can miss a lot in her excessiveness. So she just goes somewhere, then returns and goes away again. To get out of our focus, to disappear, to forget. She's also in a hurry a lot of times, because there are things that need to be discovered and even more things that need to be found, but hastiness and excessiveness don't become her. Well, sometimes she likes to stand out even though she finds vanity indecent when she looks in the mirror. Sometimes she even finds vanity pathetic. But she belongs to her and that's the way she is!

But why should we talk only about her, who does't want to and must not to, but she must alone, if she must, because there is he who wants and musts. Who must! In this way or another, but always. He, whose brush is searching without ever stopping, following him, suggesting colors, not allowing anything else. He, who covers all the traces as if choosing the ground to stand for the trees or showing the swimming fish to the streams. He, who opens himself wide to the brush stroke like allowing the clouds to grow or birds to sing, frogs to croak, horses to neigh. Sometimes it's enough to just listen to the grass growing and catch the throb of the sun. Another time is enough to count the stars and turn the planets around. Even in the middle of a forrest, because it can never be to dense to see through. Or on a mowed lawn when the scent enters the head and blurs the thoughts. But he would probably rather go somewhere where he can be alone, where he can be with her.

He's in painting and painting is in him. Together they are lovers and a couple! They are going before the altar. Meanwhile as She is arranging herself, He is embellishing her. With a gesture, which is far from the eyes but near to the ears. With melody. In heart and mind. In rhythm. Somewhere, there, where She found her place and would not leave, as She knows that only there is all so pure. Somewhere, there, where He had for the first time intercourse with her image, which revealed to him the wide world. Somewhere, there, where He later unveiled himself and they danced away their first dance. Then She told him everything. Sincerely. And now they are chatting and dancing and this music will never stop.