First of all, we must weigh the words we use, as none of them have a universal and unequivocal meaning that is comprehensible to everyone. The word "life" changes its meaning depending on who hears it, just like the word "world" or the word "Human". Human, from the perspective of a geneticist, is the result of a complex evolutionary development. From a religious perspective, it is the crowning achievement of creation, and so on.

When I speak of "higher (transcendent) values," my interest turns to the ancients who, even before knowing Art, sought Knowledge. Universal knowledge, devoid of doubts or opinions. Dances, as well as songs or depictions, were directed toward Knowledge and NOT toward earthly verisimilitude.

Once they had attained knowledge that we would now call occult or esoteric, they applied it to the arts. Material verisimilitude was neither a possibility nor an interest. Representation was aimed at the knowledge they had acquired, which was hardly expressible through words or figurative depictions. Therefore, the internal was more important than the external - a concept entirely lost in contemporary times, as it seems that the medium now prevails over the end.

As I mentioned, the task the viewer must undertake to understand a work of art (abstract or not) must be active. To make a notion or knowledge their own, my words or my efforts at dissemination are not enough. The viewer must first and foremost engage in assimilating a concept to make it their own. Truth is neither hidden nor obscured. Truth is within reach of anyone willing to see it.

That said, a title, in its simplicity, can guide the audience more or less toward the direction desired by the artist. However, the mistake many people make is seeking themselves or their own knowledge in the work before them, assuming that the level of Consciousness of the viewer and the Artist is the same. Yet, if when asked, "You, viewer, who are you?" the viewer cannot answer, they will not be able to grasp the meaning of the work they are observing, as it is the product of a different Consciousness and Knowledge.

To then understand the Why and How this representation found its way into material form is a substantial topic that I have elaborated on in an article titled "The Non-existence of Randomness and Considerations on Abstract Art." If the viewer reading these words is inclined toward understanding, let them begin by studying the ethical and spiritual motives, starting with this text of mine.

Randomness does not exist. Nothing exists without a sufficient reason for its existence instead of its non-existence. Similarly, nothing is created by randomness, and therefore nothing can return to randomness. Everything already exists, and everything is part of a unity. The differences present within that unity are merely symptoms of its expansion.

When I create something, even if it may appear "random," it is no more random than the design of a Boeing 787 with its seats, lights, and engines in their proper places—or a sandcastle built by a child. These are two applications of knowledge that are different but, from a Conscious perspective, perfectly identical. Would we ever say these are a matter of randomness? I don't believe so.

There is a flawed conception and perception of abstract art because the meaning of the concept is blurred. Representation, in terms of what is materially verisimilar, may be considered abstract, but it is never abstract in terms of intention.

It is no coincidence that people claim "Abstract Art" equates to "Randomness" or mere scribbles: "Even a child could do that."

This may be true to some extent, but such a statement cannot encompass the entirety of abstract art.

Exactly. The viewer should not approach the abstract work from a mere action-oriented perspective, but from a perspective of Non-Action. This does not mean a static viewpoint, but a contemplative one. The viewer must detach themselves from the expectations, whether good or bad, that the viewing of an abstract work might generate. The viewer must enjoy the whole, the unity, sometimes "only" the harmony of the shapes or the movement, much in the same way they would enjoy watching a dance. Equanimity.

In the question, the answer lies. "Traditional." Traditional is what is taught by institutions and learned from the culture of the place, but in the eyes of a child, the letter "A" is a symbol no different from the number 40 or a musical note. If I now type these symbols: ‘P455W0RD', you will agree with me that what I have wanted to express is the word ‘PASSWORD', using different symbols for the mere material representation of the word we know.

What is my work consistent with in this regard? With the feeling I have sought. Universal. Regardless of the representation used, if one is aware, the truth is before the eyes of the viewer.

As you said, I believe that the choice of colors, composition, and shapes is dictated by the series of knowledge and the entropy of the individual's consciousness. One compositional choice may prevail over another for the sake of representation, so it becomes more or less an effective means depending on its use, just as every other conscious choice made during the creative process. Sometimes a decision can be determined by recently assimilated information, such as the application of a color to a shape after watching a particular film. Or the use of a symbol may be emphasized or de-emphasized after recently understanding its meaning. We consciously decide to omit certain qualities to emphasize others, or vice versa.

A spiritual approach, for example, might lead to the removal of one or more parts of the pictorial representation to make room for a contemplative color like blue, with all the centripetal force it entails.

There are forces unknown to us, which we conventionally encompass with the word "taste," that are activated every time we make a choice. I repeat: This does not mean these choices are unconscious, but rather the opposite. Taste can be refined. Taste is a benchmark. As the culture and knowledge of the individual grow, so do the benchmarks, and taste tends to become more refined.

It is not my interest to provoke or confront the establishment with its shortcomings. It is not my interest to impose myself in the market through mere speculation. My duty is to create. If the establishment becomes interested in my theories and my Art, it will be because they will have, first and foremost, recognized what is lacking within themselves.

As mentioned before, I could give them the key to the world (if I had it), but they wouldn't know how to find the crack to insert it.

The most I can do for the passive viewer is to place the work in front of them, or even better, not show it to them at all. What I can do for the active viewer is to give the work in question a title and write about it as I have done. The conclusions they draw will be personal, but the meaning of the work is objective, and I possess the knowledge of it. To understand it as I do, they will need the same cultural, experiential, and conscious background as mine. A materialistic person will find only themselves in a work of art, not differently from the person who craves the exploration of Space.

For a comprehensive understanding of the collection, it is necessary to start with the title "Sullivan's Monsters." This is the title of one of the volumes of the Italian comic "Dylan Dog." In short, a man decides to physically open his third eye by hammering his forehead, thereby discovering the true reality of the world and the people who inhabit it.

From here, the misunderstanding in the collection itself arises. Titles of events and material subjects are represented by abstract figuration.

I believe that abstract artists lack intentionality. The key period for abstract art, as we know, was Abstract Expressionism, which emerged in America in the 1940s. From here, we can outline two variations of the same theme, two branches of the same tree: the action painters and the color field painters. Action and non-action. But both are driven by intention, far from the so-called randomness.

I don't think my work can be confined to either of these two movements, because my approach to creation can vary, not from an ideological point of view, but from a point of view of necessity.

Therefore, my work is neither better nor worse than that of other abstract artists. The real question should be: Are abstract artists aware of what they are doing?