Confidence is a feeling of security and comfort with the object or person being tested. It is the certainty that that trustworthy person is in place within the circle of reassurance. The first degree of confidence is a person’s self-confidence and self-belief, which if absent, there is no place for trust in anything or another person. In the case of the creator, his confidence is his belief in his product and its impact on the community around him. Certainty of its importance and belief in the extent of its impact. Therefore, the artwork before you is the best depiction of the creator's struggle with himself, starting from his skepticism and loss of confidence in the importance of its production to confidence in the extent of its impact and the extent of the receiver's confidence in the sincerity of the creator.
The painter asked a poet one day: “Do we represent a value to the people?
I wonder if the sun rises tomorrow and people wake up and find us missing,
will they notice our absence?! Do we leave a remembrance and rememberers behind?”
The poet drifted silently in thought and did not talk for a moment that lasted for ages.
He finally said: “We do not exist in the eyes of the people and are overlooked.
Indeed, we live among them; however, we are but faint ghosts of the night.
We are a phantom of imagination and breezes of a sleepless moaning dawn.
We move among them silently like the swish of drifting wind that does not rest,
roaming, looking for minds troubled by conscience and worn out by longing
and hearts chained by the force of life, their backs bent by living in sorrows.
We sip the defeat and drink from [the people’s] tragedies to water a deep sadness.
Then we turn the grief in their eyes to a remedy curing them; if only it cured us.
If we cannot find our own tragedies, we would create them and whine about them.
We [pretend] we were created from defeat by misery, whereas we were the creators.
We created a world where we alone shall live and breathe life into whomever we please.
And we shall annihilate whomever we please and die and live each day as we desire.
Among [the people] we are prophets with a [holy] book that mankind would not read.
So we turned water to wine and transformed the rod publicly, but they remained in denial.
We split the sea in front of them and passed; they answered: “They will drown us!”
No prophet is honored among his people until the punishment comes and they almost perish.
[Only] then do the people come bereaved, seeking salvation from the life of human beings
for we have everything they were deprived of; our world is the wish of the cravers.
But we did not promise them another life; if only we could keep our promises.
We are the sound of a God in whom the eyes of the bewildered confide at night.
We are the brush in the hand of God that draws beauty in the eyes of the miserable.
We took a handful of dust from the track of messengers and deceived the people.
God affirmed that we deceive people and here they are obeying “Amen” behind us.”
The poet here speaks with his tongue and with the tongue of the painter, the musician and the photographer. And the photographer sees with their eyes all. They speak with a tongue and see with the eyes of every human product whose aim is to improve humanity. This will not happen unless the creator's confidence in himself and his production and the recipient's confidence in the creator and his sincerity meet.
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