"Traveler, your footsteps
make the road and nothing more;
traveler, there is no road
you build it as you walk
As you walk you build the road
and when you turn your head
you see the path you will never
step on gain.
Traveler, there are no roads
only wakes in the sea"
Excerpt of "Traveler there is no road", by Antonio Machado.
This is one of my favorite poems by Mr. Machado, the whole poem is beautiful, but at the same time very sad. It was made into a song many years ago by Joan Manuel Serrat, and it was listening to this song that I started working on this piece. It reminded me of my life 6 years ago, before we moved here; more complicated (and less lonely) times. I like the metaphor of the path and how each one of us makes his/her own, because that's how life is, and the idea that it exists because we are willing to walk on it, until we realize how it ceases to exist once we've traveled on it...who could have said it better?. I did this piece thinking about this particular poem, it is in a way a self portrait or, should I say, auto biographical. As I begin a new period of my life, I look back at my old trail disappearing before my eyes, realizing, at the same time that I can't go home again; the only way to travel is forward.
make the road and nothing more;
traveler, there is no road
you build it as you walk
As you walk you build the road
and when you turn your head
you see the path you will never
step on gain.
Traveler, there are no roads
only wakes in the sea"
Excerpt of "Traveler there is no road", by Antonio Machado.
This is one of my favorite poems by Mr. Machado, the whole poem is beautiful, but at the same time very sad. It was made into a song many years ago by Joan Manuel Serrat, and it was listening to this song that I started working on this piece. It reminded me of my life 6 years ago, before we moved here; more complicated (and less lonely) times. I like the metaphor of the path and how each one of us makes his/her own, because that's how life is, and the idea that it exists because we are willing to walk on it, until we realize how it ceases to exist once we've traveled on it...who could have said it better?. I did this piece thinking about this particular poem, it is in a way a self portrait or, should I say, auto biographical. As I begin a new period of my life, I look back at my old trail disappearing before my eyes, realizing, at the same time that I can't go home again; the only way to travel is forward.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment