What a beautiful sentence! “We wrest ourselves out of marble when maybe we just longed to be a sketch on the beach.” i loved your point of the apollonian perspective being so entrenched, and it is certainly amplified by capitalism and the pressure to show productivity/constant progress rather than instinctual, unguided expressions
Love your article about art, but surprised by Miro's quotation. I love Miro pictures; they remind me of a happy child's pictures. And i am happy that we have Miro and the best Italian painting of all the times, I can open my art books any minute and enjoy them.
Thank you, Iris, for liking my comment. I love Vittorio’s articles on art. I write about the great Russian poetess, Anna Akhmatova; in some ways, her poetry crosses the lines with Art in the whole. So, the theme is close to me.
This article offers a poetic reflection on the tension between permanence and ephemerality in human life. Through the imagined scene on a Spanish beach and the evocative story of Miró, it challenges the dominant “Apollonian” mindset that pushes us to construct rigid, lasting identities. Instead, it celebrates a more “Dionysian” approach—one rooted in spontaneity, humility, and acceptance of transience.
The metaphor of drawing on sand is particularly powerful: it suggests that meaning does not require durability. On the contrary, beauty may lie precisely in what is fleeting. The friend’s decision to pursue monastic life illustrates how this insight can transform one’s entire worldview, shifting the focus from achievement to presence.
By contrasting Michelangelo’s sculptural ideal with Miró’s ephemeral gesture, the article invites us to reconsider our obsession with control and legacy. Ultimately, it argues that a fulfilling life may not be one carved in stone, but one freely sketched, lived fully in the moment, and gracefully surrendered to time
I loved this line, "The more I endeavour to be like a sketch on the sand rather than a glimmering statue, the more I discover the gentle joys and freedom of changing my mind, forgiving errors, and beginning again when the tide recedes." There's something perfectly right about the fact that the epicenter of the essay is peeing a sketch onto a beach—something so primal and bodily —it opens the door to spiritual equanimity.
Beautiful, very human writing. I really enjoyed reading it. It feels like I might see Joan Miró a bit differently now.
I like Italo Calvino, but I’ve never been to Italy, and of course I don’t have a friend in a monastery in Florence, so parts of it felt almost surreal to me, like a dream. I wrote about a night I had in Tokyo recently, and someone commented that it felt a bit surreal to them, which honestly surprised me at the time, but now I think I understand what they meant.
Lately I’ve been thinking about what it means to write personal things on the internet. With the rise of the internet, we can easily access information, and at the same time it feels like there’s never been a time when so many people were writing with the assumption that anyone could read it. Somehow, at least for me, writing that is too perfectly organized in terms of context doesn’t feel that interesting anymore. I like writing that feels alive.
Your writing has had a very contemporary kind of awareness from the first piece, and I’m really drawn to the way you talk about something like authentic art through that lens.
Also, that story about Miró peeing on the sand really got me. Whether it’s true or not almost makes it more compelling. It actually reminded me of a scene in a novel by Osamu Dazai, where a fallen aristocratic mother quietly urinates in the garden while standing, in a strangely elegant way.
This ended up a bit messy, but thank you for such an inspiring piece 🐈
Vittorio, what a beautiful piece!! You turned a tiny, almost mischievous image (a sketch in the sand, destined to vanish) into a whole philosophy of living with so much grace.
I especially loved the tension you hold between the Apollonian urge to chisel a life into marble and the Dionysian permission to be traced, risked, and washed away. That line about not needing to become a “shining statue” to live a life as a work of art really stayed with me, it’s both liberating and oddly demanding (because it asks for presence, not performance).
The last lines are everything... the idea that impermanence isn’t a flaw but the condition that lets us change our minds, forgive errors, begin again. Thank you for writing something that feels like a tide coming in: gentle, inevitable, and transformative.
A beautiful reflection on impermanence and the quiet courage of not needing everything to last. I really liked the contrast between the «sculpted» life and the «sketch in the sand», it challenges the obsession with control and permanence. It’s a powerful reminder that some moments gain meaning precisely because they disappear.
In art (all of the arts) I value expression over perfection. There is no such thing as a perfect circle after all. In life— well what does one actually live for? it’s not a perfect Linkedin profile or to climb to the top of the ladder no matter how many hands you step in. I do value safety and harmony over chaos but I try to not feel useless over all my failed attempts to live… I write poetry but I don’t fully understand what it is, make visual art without knowing what I’m doing most of the time. My neurology makes me struggle with the whole, therefore I live(and write) in fragments, thinking I will somehow build something out of it.
Your piece is very engaging, and beautifully crafted, transmitting the ideas through poetic imagery. I struggle sometimes with longer pieces because of attention deficits but this piece was easy to follow except for maybe the names, even though I know most of them.
I enjoyed so much reading this, and the parallels that you did with the Apollonian way where so spot on.I write about authenticity and I've never connected it to the Apollonian the way you just did here — the idea that we don't perform inauthenticity on purpose, we just got so used to chiseling that we forgot we were allowed to sketch.
That Miró quote was so beautiful. Looking forward to read more of your work.
Strong perspective! It clearly highlights how attachment often comes from wanting to extend moments beyond their natural life, while real appreciation comes from accepting their impermanence.
This reminds me of the Tibetan monks, making their beautiful, complicated, deeply meaningful mandalas on sand, and once they have finished, sweeping it all away. It's so hard for us to be in the moment, creating for creations sake, like children do.
Yes, indeed, I think in the West we got a bit more accustumed to a strive for eternity, particularly in arts. Whilst the East is more in touch with one’s caducity.
So beautiful Vittorio! Loved every bit of it, but using such a small anecdote from Miro's creative process as a kick start of an entire philosophy of living and celebration of human lightness had me hooked. Great job!
What a beautiful sentence! “We wrest ourselves out of marble when maybe we just longed to be a sketch on the beach.” i loved your point of the apollonian perspective being so entrenched, and it is certainly amplified by capitalism and the pressure to show productivity/constant progress rather than instinctual, unguided expressions
Love your article about art, but surprised by Miro's quotation. I love Miro pictures; they remind me of a happy child's pictures. And i am happy that we have Miro and the best Italian painting of all the times, I can open my art books any minute and enjoy them.
Thank you, Iris, for liking my comment. I love Vittorio’s articles on art. I write about the great Russian poetess, Anna Akhmatova; in some ways, her poetry crosses the lines with Art in the whole. So, the theme is close to me.
Indeed, we own both within, though the Apollonian in us would hate to admit it!
Love your essays on art. Serious and brilliant. Thank you.
This article offers a poetic reflection on the tension between permanence and ephemerality in human life. Through the imagined scene on a Spanish beach and the evocative story of Miró, it challenges the dominant “Apollonian” mindset that pushes us to construct rigid, lasting identities. Instead, it celebrates a more “Dionysian” approach—one rooted in spontaneity, humility, and acceptance of transience.
The metaphor of drawing on sand is particularly powerful: it suggests that meaning does not require durability. On the contrary, beauty may lie precisely in what is fleeting. The friend’s decision to pursue monastic life illustrates how this insight can transform one’s entire worldview, shifting the focus from achievement to presence.
By contrasting Michelangelo’s sculptural ideal with Miró’s ephemeral gesture, the article invites us to reconsider our obsession with control and legacy. Ultimately, it argues that a fulfilling life may not be one carved in stone, but one freely sketched, lived fully in the moment, and gracefully surrendered to time
I loved this line, "The more I endeavour to be like a sketch on the sand rather than a glimmering statue, the more I discover the gentle joys and freedom of changing my mind, forgiving errors, and beginning again when the tide recedes." There's something perfectly right about the fact that the epicenter of the essay is peeing a sketch onto a beach—something so primal and bodily —it opens the door to spiritual equanimity.
Beautiful, very human writing. I really enjoyed reading it. It feels like I might see Joan Miró a bit differently now.
I like Italo Calvino, but I’ve never been to Italy, and of course I don’t have a friend in a monastery in Florence, so parts of it felt almost surreal to me, like a dream. I wrote about a night I had in Tokyo recently, and someone commented that it felt a bit surreal to them, which honestly surprised me at the time, but now I think I understand what they meant.
Lately I’ve been thinking about what it means to write personal things on the internet. With the rise of the internet, we can easily access information, and at the same time it feels like there’s never been a time when so many people were writing with the assumption that anyone could read it. Somehow, at least for me, writing that is too perfectly organized in terms of context doesn’t feel that interesting anymore. I like writing that feels alive.
Your writing has had a very contemporary kind of awareness from the first piece, and I’m really drawn to the way you talk about something like authentic art through that lens.
Also, that story about Miró peeing on the sand really got me. Whether it’s true or not almost makes it more compelling. It actually reminded me of a scene in a novel by Osamu Dazai, where a fallen aristocratic mother quietly urinates in the garden while standing, in a strangely elegant way.
This ended up a bit messy, but thank you for such an inspiring piece 🐈
Vittorio, what a beautiful piece!! You turned a tiny, almost mischievous image (a sketch in the sand, destined to vanish) into a whole philosophy of living with so much grace.
I especially loved the tension you hold between the Apollonian urge to chisel a life into marble and the Dionysian permission to be traced, risked, and washed away. That line about not needing to become a “shining statue” to live a life as a work of art really stayed with me, it’s both liberating and oddly demanding (because it asks for presence, not performance).
The last lines are everything... the idea that impermanence isn’t a flaw but the condition that lets us change our minds, forgive errors, begin again. Thank you for writing something that feels like a tide coming in: gentle, inevitable, and transformative.
Thank you so much Emma for your comment. I am really glad that you liked it. It means a lot!
A beautiful reflection on impermanence and the quiet courage of not needing everything to last. I really liked the contrast between the «sculpted» life and the «sketch in the sand», it challenges the obsession with control and permanence. It’s a powerful reminder that some moments gain meaning precisely because they disappear.
In art (all of the arts) I value expression over perfection. There is no such thing as a perfect circle after all. In life— well what does one actually live for? it’s not a perfect Linkedin profile or to climb to the top of the ladder no matter how many hands you step in. I do value safety and harmony over chaos but I try to not feel useless over all my failed attempts to live… I write poetry but I don’t fully understand what it is, make visual art without knowing what I’m doing most of the time. My neurology makes me struggle with the whole, therefore I live(and write) in fragments, thinking I will somehow build something out of it.
Your piece is very engaging, and beautifully crafted, transmitting the ideas through poetic imagery. I struggle sometimes with longer pieces because of attention deficits but this piece was easy to follow except for maybe the names, even though I know most of them.
I enjoyed so much reading this, and the parallels that you did with the Apollonian way where so spot on.I write about authenticity and I've never connected it to the Apollonian the way you just did here — the idea that we don't perform inauthenticity on purpose, we just got so used to chiseling that we forgot we were allowed to sketch.
That Miró quote was so beautiful. Looking forward to read more of your work.
Strong perspective! It clearly highlights how attachment often comes from wanting to extend moments beyond their natural life, while real appreciation comes from accepting their impermanence.
Beautifully written, when art meets words ✨️
Thank you!
This reminds me of the Tibetan monks, making their beautiful, complicated, deeply meaningful mandalas on sand, and once they have finished, sweeping it all away. It's so hard for us to be in the moment, creating for creations sake, like children do.
Yes, indeed, I think in the West we got a bit more accustumed to a strive for eternity, particularly in arts. Whilst the East is more in touch with one’s caducity.
So beautiful Vittorio! Loved every bit of it, but using such a small anecdote from Miro's creative process as a kick start of an entire philosophy of living and celebration of human lightness had me hooked. Great job!
Thank you for your efforts , I spent some good time reading it.
"We see our destiny as an act of subtraction." Felt. Chipping away at ourselves to become something we never wanted in the first place.
Thank you, Rene. That line came from the sculptors, who know better than anyone that what you take away is what makes the shape.
That is really cool and I totally felt it.
Thank you, Brian. That feeling was the whole point of writing it.