Pilgrim's Bowl

"He was focused all his life, like a monk; like them, isolated from the world, in his own small studio; isolated from the world, with his back to the world, and the sun and moon of this world."

In a lifetime, over and over again, coming and going, just a few flowers, a little scenery, and a few bottles and jars.

Within the limited form, there seems to be endless appearance.

Outside Rome, on the road to Emmaus, pilgrims were leaving. The heart has become scattered. And the reappearing Christ gathered it together. Morandi's paintings also have this miraculous effect.

It's mysterious. As complex and profound as an alchemist, as simple as crabapples and green grass.

This secret of Morandi... The poet Jacobite tried to see, and what he used to see was the summons: Rilke, Dante, Pascal, Leopardi, Bach, Rothko: Poets, philosophers, painters, and musicians all came one after another during the call, reflecting each other.

"The mystery must be approached from various angles. It must be completely innocent."

The French poet Jacobet walked gently in front of the painting, looked deeply and quietly, and wandered in his mind: In Morandi's paintings, there are poems and thoughts, leading us to soar.