i talk 2 the trees

accumulation of anything but love, leads to unhealthy obesity.

akumulacija bilo čega osim ljubavi, nezdravo deblja.

i’m looking at the treetops..it sings with sparrow’s voice.

gledam krošnju drveća..ona pjeva glasovima vrapčića.

David talks to the trees. 🙏

love is unicorn aka bruce lee

..rumi said ”you have to keep breaking your heart until it opens”..easier to say than to do. guess some persons don’t know any other way. love is anything but logical. so if a person is to turn out ‘stupid’, then love is the most legitimate place for such act. in any case, best place 2 be is 2 be in love.

great love requires strong heart for love in its essence is extremely strong. she saved me many times. pure love, don’t know how to explain it. let me put it bluntly: i’m alive, that’s the best evidence..it’s too personal to write it further in this binary mode.

as people get older, i noticed their hearts tend to shrink. and if they had a tough life, the shrinking gets even more progressive. as if they’ve earned excuse to justify their insensibility, lack of interest for others, lack of respect for love. it’s easy to be ‘good hearted’ when everything is going good. but as soon as life situation changes most people turn into zombies and continue living their dead life until the day they die. being a zombie is scary. and it’s totally unhealthy.

i’m working on my new painting series, in2 the wild. personally it’s my most sincere work so far, apart from beloved braining series. this one has colors, lots of it. i was ‘afraid’ to step into something i felt beautiful within me coz beautiful things are not ‘cool’. i thought it might show off my most personal treasure chest, my extreme sensibility that i was forced to hide since i was little. i’m truly happy i’m alive: in my darkest moments there was a teeny tiny gut feeling, softly whispering, ‘you think you have nothing, but you do have a gift you never dreamed of having..so why don’t you live to see where your painting’s gonna take you..your time will come and then you’ll paint again, a new.. just have patience.

..how does a person become strong? bold? how does a person become an artist? guess everyone has its own way. one thing is certain: talent is a gift and it’s a huge responsibility given to very few lucky ones. no matter how difficult life is, those born with a talent are the lucky ones. truly the rich ones.

this existence is in the utmost need of unicorns. they do exist but most of them are forced to hide under layers of fake costumes..if spotted, some of them are sadly bullied to cut their own horn.. what is important is that unicorns do recognize each other. then they instinctively watch one over the other, truly love and care for each other. seems as if no one else in this world is capable of doing it the unicorn way.

bd as brad mehldau

..if i weren’t introduced to music/piano at early age, i would never become a painter.

to those who don’t understand jazz, it’s 1st about feeling it, not understanding it. i felt it as a simple kid, heard it on a radio. it was love at first hearing.

jazz is like poetry in sound, like the truth. either you love it or hate it.

i paint either in silence or on jazz. only.

well earned final day

it was a lovely sunny day, a day right after 1st of may. he was never tired. he used to say “nobody can make an old man tired”. 

i guess he is the only person i knew who was the only child and wasn’t spoiled. on the contrary. he lost his mum as a young man and father would often beat the life out of him. my grandma would mention that from time to time, in silent, sad voice. still, he never said anything bad about his father.

he was very smart. best student in school and great in mathematics and mechanics. teacher wanted him to sent to Zagreb for better school. his father didn’t allow it coz they were poor and there were no scholarships at that time.

he fought as partisan in ww2 and won some medals. he did some very brave thing and only 3 of them survived the battle. later he was working as mechanic and professional bus driver. remember telling me how he drove team of manchester united. he had enormous energy and was extremely disciplined: he would wake up at 4 or even earlier depending on a bus shift. guess that’s why he was never ever late to pick me up or drive me whenever it was necessary.

he knew everything about electricity, motors, in general he was maestro with hands. nevertheless he loved to be freshly shaved, always dressed as a gentlemen and always always had a wonderful scent. young people adored him coz his spirit was young too. also he could sang perfectly. and he could swear like no one..i could  right a book only on this topic.

in my teenage years I lived with him and that was my favourite time. it was perfect, we had our own routine and I loved his alpha male energy.

for these past couple of days i’m fixing things in my new apartment and thinking, ‘boy if he could only see me with my black ‘n’ decker machines’. my mum says that’s not lady like and I say i’m happy to be great with hands, i can build or fix almost anything.

past started to haunt him. he would tell me about nightmares he gets, horrific scenes from ww2. he was living alone, his wife / my grandma died before him. most of his friends were gone and his coffee routine was not enough to hold him. he was afraid of dying alone. I felt he is finally tired, his soul needs a final rest.

on that perfect day he was staying in a hotel. my mum&aunt thought it would do him good to take some spa. he had his breakfast then took a long walk on a promenade to the centre, where he took his daily routine, coffee and newspapers. after that he again walked the same way back to hotel for lunch.

they served him a soup. he didn’t eat it till end, rather dived with his head right into it – an instant death.

instead of dying slowly alone, he died as if thunder stroked in full hotel’s restaurant. on that day, the hotel hosted some doctors’ symposium so lots of doctors gathered when he performed his ‘soup free dive’.   yet they couldn’t do anything for he already passed to another dimension. he was proud that his grandson / my brother was a doctor. and he was proud of me as a painter coz he knew nothing about art.

he is my grandpa Jure Maslaĉ, human being that never let me down.

r.i.p. ❤


one life, one chance

”Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” Master Yoda

life is not primarily quest of pleasure as Freud believed, or a quest of power according to Adler. i see life as a quest for meaning, the greatest task for any person is to find meaning in his or her life. Victor Frankl saw three possible sources of meaning; in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person) and in courage during the difficult times.

‘long’ time ago i saw it written in big letters ‘one life. one chance’. that simple deep sentence changed my view of life forever for better.

to add: from my humble life experiance i find fear to be man’s best trick ever created.

personal note

when separate we are ordinary.

when together we are exceptional.

ps. digital sketches, continuing with ideas from sketch planet 6278 (version 1 and version 2)


big boys don’t cry

from motion picture ”Interstellar”:

Cooper: You’re a scientist, Brand

Brand: I am. So listen to me when I tell you that love isn’t something we invented – it’s observable, powerful. Why shouldn’t it mean something?

Cooper: It means social utility – child rearing, social bonding

Brand: We love people who’ve died…where’s the social utility in that? Maybe it means more – something we can’t understand, yet. Maybe it’s some evidence, some artefact of higher dimensions that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen for a decade, who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can’t yet understand it.

personal note:

she saved my life. did it more than once.

guess she will never ever leave me.

probably not even when I ‘die’.

She >> Love