My lamp and my white paper

Abstract

When you remember a far past of work, when you rethink the numerous, but monotonous, images of the stubborn worker, reading and meditating under the lamp, you begin to live as if you were the only character in a painting.

A piece with faded walls and as tight on its center, concentrated around the man who thinks, sitting at the table illuminated by the lamp. During its long life, the table has received a thousand variants, but retains its unity, its central life. Now it is a constant image in which memories and dreams merge. The dreamer concentrates on her to remember the man who works. It comforts and longs for the piecitas where you worked, where you had the energy to work well. The real space of solitary work is, in a small room, the circle illuminated by the lamp. Jean de Boschére knew this when he wrote: Only in a small room can work be done. And the work lamp concentrates the room in the dimensions of the table. How the lamp of yesteryear, in my memories, concentrated the piece, restored the loneliness of courage, my loneliness as a worker