Godwin Cutajar Gallery


or my walks

along the paths of relief, belief and make believe.


quote :


(2nd. December 1965)


today I took out my brush and paints from the cupboard because i am making a new painting. i want to do a seascape.

i fill the sky with very dilute light cerulean blue. then i fill the sea area with ultramarine blue, a bit thicker on the brush to make the sea look dark. i squeeze the paint tube and put more ultramarine blue paint on my fingers, rubbing it on the sea area to make it more and more blue.

on the right side i paint a boy. he is sitting, giving his back towards the front plane, gazing at the horizon. i paint him wearing a prussian blue coloured t-shirt. on the back of his t-shirt is written "is blue really blue ?". he is also wearing a cap of cobalt blue colour. when i grow up i want to be like this boy.

should i add some viridian to the sea ? viridian is a green, but a very bluish green and looks like blue. no, only blues for this seascape or bluescape.

i have finished the painting but still have not decided its name. i write my name and the day on the left side. my parents like it. it has already dried and they hang it in a gilded wooden frame on the bare naked yellow stone wall in the living room, so everyone would see it. the painting with so much blue looks nicer surrounded by the yellow. i am happy. if i grow up i want to be like that boy, gazing, gazing, forever lost in an infinity of blue.

blue paint still daubs both my hands, its odour pleases me like perfume and i will not wash it off for today. i am very happy. maybe i should call this painting "GODWIN BLUISH BLUES".

(1st. December 1973)


It is Sunday. I am at my art lesson and today my teacher is teaching me the rules of linear perspective. He tells me these rules are very useful if I will draw houses and architecture. In the previous lessons he taught me to draw the fork, the spoon, the umbrella, a pair of shoes, the cloth and other still life. For these exercises I use soft pencils and a rubber on paper. I am the only student in this class. My teacher’s name is Michelangelo. My father brings me every Sunday in our white Mark1 Ford Escort to my art lesson as the venue is distant from home. During the lesson father waits for me in the car, reading the journal.

My parents are very dedicated to my spiritual and academic upbringing. At home they see me frequently drawing, painting and modeling in clay.

Once when I returned home from school I narrated to them what had happened during the art class. That day our art teacher gave us an exercise to make an abstract design by drawing straight pencil lines with a ruler, randomly from one perimeter of the page to another, and then filling the resulting spaces with colours. Everyone in class did this exercise following the steps as teacher had told us. But when I finished the colouring, on my own initiative I decided to make a step further passing over and reinforcing the pencil lines with a black ink pen, and this made my design throb with contrast and energy. Our teacher noticed this and successively invited my classmates to see what I had done. Returning home I proudly narrated this to my parents.

My parents are very dedicated to my spiritual and academic upbringing and they desired that I should have more art instruction. So they took me to the nuns, but these gave lessons only to girls. Then they took me to this man called Michelangelo, and luckily for me he accepted.

Now my hour and a half lesson is over today. I have tried to observe, to draw, to shade, to give an in depth illusion, to erase, to correct, and to discipline my spirit. Teacher tells me to draw boxes in linear perspective as exercise during the week, and then to show him for correction next Sunday. He tells me next Sunday he will teach me to draw the cylinder.

As I walk back to my father, I ask myself what perspective my life should take. I remember to have seen in books some paintings with elements represented in different perspectives which defy the rules of natural perspective giving them a trascendental spirit. I ask myself which may be the best choice, between designing my life in perfect natural perspective I learnt today or in other perspectives. Maybe I should try to walk along the narrow path in the middle, if I ever succeed to find it.

(December 1980)


This cold grey december afternoon I was walking along via Gallia, a very big busy street and stopped in front of the church. I sat on the steps of the church parvis, watching the cars and the people rushing by.

On the parvis, rising up behind my back is the gigantic wooden crib I designed and coloured some weeks ago. Joseph is standing looking calmly, in an effort to understand what is really happening. Mary is on her knees in silent adoration. There is one shepherd, who with a lamb has brought the can for water, but forgets it there overturned. This kneeling shepherd outstretches his hand to touch the manger and the Saviour. The Christ is the very centre of the composition, with his hands wide open, maybe to welcome everyone, or else to herald His crucifixion. All is set in front of an abstract background which looks like a tent to shelter our Lord who made his home in this World.

The composition is a triangle which gives stability, with very bold diagonals. Very light transparent glazes of violet, pink, blue, green, red, brown, white and yellow in a deep black contour, stand out brightly in contrast with the greyish brown church fascade.

The crib was set up some days ago for the very first time on christmas eve. It was lighted for the dark. In deep appreciation people of the neighbourhood brought and put flower bouquets in front of it. I was told that a homeless old man even spent the night behind the crib, sheltering himself from the cold.

I have now taken a handful of peanuts from my pocket, as I sit on the cold steps of the church parvis. This evening I was wearing my favourite dark blue jacket on which is written "rome monochrome". As I slowly munch a peanut, in front of me life, people and cars are passing briskly by ; no one knows me, but I don’t mind. I have no home of my own, I am not sure if I will have a shelter for tonight, but I don’t mind. I don’t know if I can buy something to eat for supper with the little money I have in my pocket, but I don’t mind. As I munch another peanut, I look back over my shoulders and realize how colourfully coloured is my work, presenting the BIRTH OF THE KING to one of the major streets of Rome, and to the World. I don’t know why, but I feel like a king of kings.

(Rome, December 1988)


It is early afternoon and I am sitting in the church. It is very quiet. In front of me looms a huge dark apse with a central window through which streams a golden sunlight. This stream of light has departed from its source millions of light years ago, found its way through this window and is now generously giving me Light, healing my spirit. A light that has been strong enough to make this long journey across the Universe, and yet soft enough not to hurt my senses as I contemplate it.

I am sitting in the church during the break from work. The Institute I frequent is carrying out conservation and restoration treatments on two 14th century frescoes in the cloister annexed to this church. The frescoes depict "Santa Margherita" and "Sant’ Omobono". I am fascinated how these artifacts have lived and survived all these centuries and arrived to our time to instill to mankind an emotion. I feel blessed to contribute to their conservation that in future they may continue to instill an emotion to mankind. I am healing them and they are healing me.

It is early afternoon and I am sitting alone in this church. Some minutes ago I was by myself in the cloister garden, taking a quiet walk. The silence sang awesome gregorian chants to my spirit and the solitude wrapped me making me one with mankind, with the World and with the Universe. Seduced by this bliss I sat down, took out my blue ink pen and white fabriano paper and made a sketch of the cloister architecture massing. I always carry my design accessories with me, wherever I go.

This cloister complex is the "Abbazia delle Tre Fontane" and I think this is my favourite spot in Rome. In the years I am living here I come again and again to this church of "Santi Vincenzo e Anastasio" to pray. This church seduces me as its eloquent stone structure shapes it so naked and yet so sacred. Trappist monks live here and no visits are allowed inside the cloister. Now by pure luck destiny wanted that my Institute be commissioned to carry out this conservation and restoration project inside the cloister, and in addition I am part of this team. Destiny has always generously showered me with blessings, there seems to be a Hand mysteriously giving me a hand. At the cloister entrance is a big statue of St. Benedict with written “Ora et Labora”. This afternoon I have made up my mind one of my future projects to be an exhibition of my paintings with the theme “Ora et Colora”.

I am now smiling as I am remembering the Saturday afternoon some weeks ago when my friend asked me to take her to my favourite place in Rome. She is Greek, young and very lively. Some days I think maybe she is my girlfriend, other days I think she is not, I don’t know. When she asked me to accompany her, a bit because I forgot she likes the World with its pleasures, a bit because I may be an "omo bono", so I brought her to see this church and the outside of this cloister, narrating to her the little I knew about the complex yet doing my best to seem I knew a lot. As time went by her face became more and more blank, till at one point she asked me when will we arrive to my favourite place in Rome. Her questions and her thoughts sound like Greek to me, but I admit she is a lovely or a very very lovely girl.

It is afternoon and now it is time for me to go back on site to resume the work on the frescoes with my schoolmates. I look again at the window and let its light caress my senses, till next time I come back again, maybe tomorrow during break. As I walk back to the scaffolding, I look at the modest drawing I have done today in the garden. It may be or it may not be a work of art, I don’t know and I have little or no desire to know. But I hope this drawing will one day bring back in me the bliss I was given as a gift this afternoon. Maybe in the years or centuries to come this drawing would be instilling the wonder of my emotions to someone else, still.

(Abbazia delle Tre Fontane - Rome, September 1989)


This morning I am in Piazza Navona. I come frequently here early morning to make some drawing practice from the Bernini fountain. I love this square at this hour because it is very quiet, the shops are all closed and I am alone. The only sound are the doves around me.

I left my room at about half past five, got bus 87 and at about six I am already on the spot. As I alight from the bus, approaching this square is always exciting as it is hidden among the buildings ; a short walk along a relatively narrow street, and the square suddenly opens up, welcoming me, embracing me, absorbing me.

At this early hour the air is cold and blue. As I take out my design accessories, I say good morning to the fountain Giant, who smiling returns with his usual “buon di`”. He begins to talk, asking me if I slept good and what plans do I have for today, I tell him not to move as I have to draw, and draw and draw again.

The sun is rising, the white sculpted stone slowly turns orange and red under a fiery sky of pink and blue. The shadows are dramatically long and emphatic.

As I draw, today the kind Giant tells me Bernini made him in a position of fear as if the facade of the church in front is about to fall. Perched high on the church is a statue of Santa Agnese reassuring the Giant that the rival Borromini facade will never decay or fall. Then the Giant’s face takes a sad look as he confides with me that he is actually in love with Santa Agnese.

I have finished the design now and packing. As I walk away, I hear the Giant singing softly :
 “‘gnese vie’ giù
 lo sai quanno te chiamo
 che morirebbe si
 nun t’avessi accanto
 ieri sera nun t’ho detto
 quanto t’amo
 e te lo dico mo
 tesoro santo

 La luna è sparita
 e facce di score
 il giorno c’invita
 vie’ famo l’amore
 l’aria serena, dorce e delicata
 e ’na carezza de innamorata…”

(Rome, September 1990)


Today early morning I returned to Piazza Navona to continue the HB pencil sketch I began yesterday of the Bernini Fountain nude Giant.

Today morning I made quick 3 minute black ink line drawings of the Italian provinces nude sculptures at the Stadio Olimpico.

Today I finished an original charcoal design for the 5 metre high crib, to be set up at the "Parrocchia della Nativita` di Nostro Signore Gesu` Cristo" facade on the 1988 Christmas eve, and for another 18 successive Christmases.

Today during the lecture at the Institute I frequent I felt very bored and so secretly made two or three quick green ink drawings of the lecturer.

Today on the scaffolding I made blue ink drawings from Giotto’s "Life of the Virgin Mary" fresco cycle, at the midday break during the conservation and restoration project my Institute is carrying out at the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua.

Today on the same scaffolding I made a blue ink portrait from life of one of my schoolmates, which afterwards I gave her as a gift.

Today during my 3 hour train journey I made blue ink drawings of male nudes in great toil from my dreams of Virgil’s "The Odyssey".

Today afternoon I drew in sepia pencil from the female nude model at the Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato.

Today afternoon, walking aimlessly in the streets, I entered a church in which to my surprise there happened to be a Bernini angel sculpture, so I made some pencil sketches from it.

Today late afternoon I sat at Stazione Termini making quick ink line drawings of people (without their knowing).

Today evening I made a self portrait in burnt umber pastel pencil with the help of a mirror in my little nest number 52, at Via Iberia 27.

Today late evening I went back adamantly on the bus making quick ink drawings of people on board, despite the fact that I had already been sent to hell for this.

Today late evening using a mirror and drinking several glasses of wine to keep me warm, I sketched myself, wearing only the wrist watch my uncle’s gift for my First Holy Communion on the 4th. of June 1972.

Today night I began the pencil design for a low relief sculpture end of scholastic year project with the theme "Love", in which I have decided to depict the Love story between Penelope and Ulysses. Today night I am continuing, I am continuing, I am continuing the pencil design for the same low relief sculpture, in which I am shaping my beliefs of solid spiritual and family values in which my beloved parents have made every effort to bring me up. Today night I finished this pencil design for this low relief sculpture, successively successfully executed in gesso and exhibited with the best 10 at the Istituto Poligrafico and Zecca dello Stato for a whole year.

Tomorrow my design will shine my golden yesterday.

(Rome, June 1992)


Come stai ?

Ma, me sento in una situazione parecchio strana, perche` per un terzo so’ mezzo sposato, per un altro terzo so’ ’na via de mezzo tra un eremita pressappochista e un emo qualunquista. Dell’urtimo terzo, i primi due terzi so’ mezzo cazzaro. Poi per l’altro terzo dell’urtimo terzo, che te posso di’ . ..me sento p o e t a me sento.. .


(Rome, 1st. December 1993).


quote :


(2nd. December 1993)


"FIL-HEMDA" (a rhyme)

 F’inzul ix-xemx ghall-hemda
 Wahdi l-Lunzjata kont,
 Gurnata kollha bnazzi
 Li nkun hekk dejjem hlomt.

 Lejla kienet li fiha
 Hassejtni wisq ghajjien,
 B’dan mohhi dejjem jhewden
 Jistaqsi u hosbien.

 Madwari bdejt infittex
 Harist ma’ l-erba’ rjieh
 Forsi xi ftit intieghem
 Id-duwa tal-mistrieh.

 W’ghajnejja bhal infethu
 Mohhi nhall mill-irbit
 Donni bil-mod bdejt nara
 U gheb kull hsieb imqit.

 Il-Jien ra lwien hekk sbejha
 Li qalbi dlonk imtliet
 Bil-hena liema bhalha
 B’ tas-sema il-hlewwiet.

 Iz-ziffa li mellsitni
 F’dik il-lejla ta’ Frar
 Nessietni ta’ di’ d-dinja
 L-ugiegh, il-hemm, l-imrar.

 Min jaf kienx Alla nnifsu
 FiH tant fittixt serhan
 Li f’dik il-lejla hiemda
 Ghamilni hekk ferhan ?

(25th. March 1998)


"X’INHOBB" (a rhyme)

 Inhobb il-hbiberija
 Ta’ tnejn tlieta min-nies,
 Li maghhom gieli naqsam
 Bil-ghaqal jew bla qies.

 Inhobb iz-ziffa friska
 Ghax meta nkun gharqan
 Lil mohhi u lil ruhi
 Taghtihom is-serhan.

 Inhobb nahseb fuq Alla
 Misteru daqstant kbir,
 FiH nehda u nithenna
 Minghajru kemm jien fqir !

 Inhobb il-gmiel tal-mara,
 Mieghu wiehed insir.
 Gieli jsewwidli qalbi
 Ghax tieghu jiena lsir...

 Inhobb nara z-zmien jghaddi
 Bilqeghda niggustah,
 Nitbissem meta nara
 ’L min minnu jimpurtah.

 Inhobb il-platt imfawwar
 Bil-qalb innizzlu zgur,
 Ma ngergirx fuq it-toghma
 Jekk bl-imhabba misjur.

 Inhobb is-solitudni
 Ghax timlieni bis-Skiet,
 Hija habiba ghaziza
 F’di’ d-dinja kollha swied !

 Inhobb ix-xoghol li jghinni
 Mohhi nzomm dejjem frisk,
 Jekk nibqa’ hekk nistaghna
 F’elf sena nsir bhac-Cisk.

 Inhobb nara lil ommi
 Biezla tahdem id-dar,
 Tithabat forsi tara
 Id-dinja ftit ahjar.

 Fuq kollox inhobb Lili,
 Kapulavur sabih
 Ta’ dan nizzi hajr ’l Alla
 U b’ hajti gieh naghtiH.

(July 1998)


Yesterday afternoon I set out for my daily walk. The walk took me towards "Il-Ghajn il-Kbira", a very old fountain situated in my native city Fontana. It is sheltered under a stone ceiling held by robust stone arches, out of its rocky walls water is always flowing. Its old stones narrate the story of the many people who came to get water throughout the ages.

It was dusk. Lured by the soft sound of gurgling water amidst all the stillness, I stopped and sat there, gazing around aimlessly. To my surprise, I see an unusual vision coming alive in front of me. Opening my eyes wide I realized they were all the works I had done till then with the theme "Il-Ghajn il-Kbira". They were six, four oil paintings on canvas, and two pencil designs on paper.

The works were alive and arguing among themselves which of them was the best. Between belief and disbelief, I reached out with my finger to touch them and yes, I could feel the canvas, the paint, the paper. Hearing their hot discussion, the fountain water flow began to diminish as if struck by this unusual scene.

One work was The Nativity of the Christ, a drawing I had done when the Fontana Local Council commissioned me to design a Christmas card. For this I had designed the Holy Family, set in our fountain. The birth of the Christ framed by the huge front arch conveyed the strength and the hope this event would bring to mankind. In history the arch was frequently used to convey a sense of triumph, such as framing tombs in early christian catacombs, and also the triumphal arches built by the Romans to welcome the return of a victorious emperor. I believed this was an original thought for a christmas card, most befitting my native city. "I am the best because I depict the Nativity of the Saviour", this drawing was insisting.

Another work present in this apparition was a painting which again had been commissioned by my Local Council to be given to the Prime Minister of Malta who happened to be visiting Fontana. The subject I chose for this occasion was our fountain. I composed this work as a painted mosaic, with only red and blue "tesserae" which are the colours of the two main political parties in my country. These two parties are in disagreement all year round except on "Our Lady of Sorrows" day, where some follow this devout procession even barefoot. But in this painting I made an effort to compose a harmonious whole. Of course with red and blue I also put their derivatives (orange red, violet red, greenish blue and violet blue) in a myriad of tones. Having successfully made it with such a restricted palette added to the pride I felt when my work was being presented to the Prime Minister. "I am the best because I was proudly presented to the Prime Minister".

There was another design I had made when the Local Council commissioned me a trophy to be awarded annually to whom in some way gave a positive contribution to this city. For this I had turned my attention to the Fontana emblem, of which there is an old one and a more recent one, but both refer to "Il-Ghajn il-Kbira" and its flowing water. So I shaped this trophy as a fountain consisting of three elongated vertical arches from which water is flowing (the old emblem), resting on top of a half dome base on which are wave lines suggesting flowing water (the new emblem). For this I successively prepared a clay model, which was later cast in bronze. This trophy is still used to this day. "I am the best as I became an important emblem in bronze" was saying repeatedely this design.

While all this was unfolding in front of me, I slowly took off my shoes barefoot so my body and spirit would have closer contact with my works and with the environment.

Another artefact present was a painting which had been sold to a private collection in Sliema. I had made this painting just after I had successfully finished my artefact conservation studies in Rome, so I decided to give this work the look of a painting during a cleaning process. In fact, after painting an elevation of "Il-Ghajn il-Kbira", I put a dark blackish transparent glaze to blur and dirty some areas, leaving some windows to indicate the "cleaned" areas. "I am the best as I remind everyone that life sometimes is blurred and sometimes bright".

Yet another work was a painting with which I had participated in a fund raising collective exhibition for a charitable community in Malta. I depicted "Il-Ghajn il-Kbira" in elevation, with heavy shadows cast by giant buildings gradually approaching in from the front plane and threatening to engulf and bury this relic. This painting was mostly pointing at the threat excessive land development is doing to the natural beauty and history of these islands. "I am the best because I protest against the destruction of the environment" cried this painting.

There present was another painted depiction I had done of how "Il-Ghajn il-Kbira" might have looked on Christmas night. No figures this time, it shows the fountain at night, with a mysterious light glowing in the sky. I exaggerated the flow of water abundantly flowing at the very centre under the arch, pointing to the abundance of goodness the birth of the Christ would bring to the world. There is also a prickly pear tree, the sweet fruit with the thorns on its outer skin, so common in my native country, and which reminds that "no pain, no gain". This painting remains in my private collection. "I am the best, for my mysterious aura" was yelling.

At the end, the six works quieted down and were all looking at me. By now the flow of water had completely stopped, as if to hear what would my reaction be. "Each one of you is fruit of God’s will and Godwin’s toil. Go back to where Destiny has located you, you are the best every time you bring relief to anyone who tries to dialogue with you". At that instance, my six works smiled and disappeared. The fountain water began dripping and gradually flowing again.

It was dark by now. I put on back my shoes and was suddenly feeling cold. I felt so glad to have seen these six works again as they connect me to my native city, to my roots. As I walked towards destination, the fountain of my spirit was vigorously flowing with a renewed Hope.

(Fontana Day, 1st. December 1998)


quote :


(2nd. December 1998)


c a r a,

.....stamattina presto abbiamo fatto colazione insieme con cappuccino e cornetti caldi (due al cioccolato, uno alla crema, uno e mezzo alla marmellata) al bar sotto casa tua............... ......

..stamattina abbiamo fatto una foto in bianco e nero insieme nel laboratorio delle tele dell’istituto........

.......................oggi mi hai regalato una t-shirt grigia (con scritto "la vita e’ a colori, ma il bianco e nero e’ piu` reale") per l’estate, un maglione blu scuro per l’inverno, ed una fiaschetta per il whisky per tutte le stagioni....

..questo pomeriggio m’hai invitato a salire sui ponteggi della chiesa del gesu’ dove lavori, per farmi vedere da molto vicino gli interventi di restauro sul grande affresco centrale del gaulli` e sugli stucchi.........

....questa sera mi hai per un’altra volta invitato per cena e gli gnocchi al formaggio che hai cucinato erano una favola.....................

................... ........questa notte mi hai ospitato a casa tua, e sulle lenzuola pulitissime sentii il profumo afrodisiaco della tua bellezza eterea ed eterna.......

........oggi lo sguardo dei tuoi occhi restaura l’equilibrio nel piu` profondo del mio intimo...

..oggi, o forse da sempre, il tuo sorriso conserva l’equilibrio nel piu` profondo dell’universo.....................

........ ...g r a z i a... .........grazia........

... :: :: : AVE grazia GRAZIA, GRATIA PLENA :: ::....

............ ..........g r a z i a................

(Rome, September 1999)


You were a teacher and my teacher. You taught me to paint an arch of violet indigo blue green yellow orange red next to another arch of red orange yellow green blue indigo violet in aerial perspective, when my palette was grey or too grey.

In return, I painted your sky with very heavy lead dark greys.

(24th. October 2002, first anniversary of my father Joseph demise and inauguration of my permanent painting exhibition at Galerie Aux 3 Aches, Lyon)


These days I am living in the garden of eden. Around me nature grows abundantly abundant, free and wild. In the middle of this garden is an apple tree.

I walk barefoot on a greyish coloured sand along the seashore. I feel the warm gentle sea waves coming up and down wetting, caressing, kissing and cleansing my feet. The air is clean and clear. The only sound is a slight hush of the water waves. A butterfly is flying around me, its wings are of red, blue, with a white equilateral triangle containing three, 5-pointed stars and an 8-rayed sun of yellow. Sun flowers have their face turned attentively following the walk of the sun. I am in the garden of eden, I walk in the garden of eden.

Beside me is a girl. She is brown, slender, with very long straight deep black hair hanging free and wild down her shoulders and her back. The penetrating look in her dark brown eyes narrate infinite mysteries and desires she treasures deep in her being. She puts levander oil to keep her skin always moist. She looks perfect, like the garden of eden.

She reclines on pure white bed sheets and I begin to paint her. In this daylight her black hair beautifully gleams with blue reflections which complement her brown complexion. She smiles as I paint her as it satisfies her ego knowing she will be in line with the Giorgione, Titian and Velazquez Venuses, with the Goya Maya Desnuda, with the Manet Olympia. On her slender body the lighter signs of her bikini are clearly marked by her golden sun tan. Today she is wearing a pale yellow flower in her hair.

I am still working on the painting. The girl gets up and holding me leads the way to the apple tree in middle of the garden. She slowly outstretches her hand and cuts an apple. Whispering I remind her that we could eat any fruit in the garden except from this one. She bites it and smiling sweetly hands it to me to bite. I look in her eyes twinkling like precious pearls. I am burning with desire and my heart is throbbing wild. Smooth in my hand I feel the apple still warm with her touch. Confused, I bring it very close to my lips feeling the seductive natural taste of her lips. As I open my mouth, the butterfly stops flying and with its wings open stays suspended in mid air waiting to see what I will do. The sunflowers also turned their face away from the sun and look at us. As I hesitate the girl’s eyes mirror her broken heart and gleam with a thick transparent veil of tears, but I do not bite.

We go back hand in hand to the painting. I finish the work successfully and on her desire begin and finish another, another and another painting as she turns to another, another and another position. The butterfly is flying again around us, as the sun flowers turn their smiling face towards the sun. Even an unusually big moon has come out in the skies now.

The girl is brown and I am white, but we are one as we walk together forever and ever in the garden of eden.

(April 2004)


This afternoon I am looking at an apple tree in the garden. On the soil under the tree many apples have fallen, no one seems to notice them. I walk to the tree, kneel on one knee and look closely at these apples. They look identical, yet each one is unique in its shape and sfumato, each one is a masterpiece. I am always awed by Man’s inventions and genius, but the greatest of these looks clumsy compared to the effortless Beauty of just one of these apples.

I am spending some days in this guest house in Ehreshoven, as I am having a personal painting exhibition. The room I am staying in impresses me for its pure whiteness and cleanliness. The only sound out of my window is the singing of the birds and sometimes the mooing of the cows grazing in the nearby fields. In the distance I admire a medieval castle and the mountains further on. The receptionist knows I paint and as she accompanied me to my room told me smiling that during my stay here I should paint the view with the castle from the window. I reply with a serious tone that my one and only intention is “to eat and sleep, to sleep and eat, to eat and sleep again”, and her soft laugh showed me this made her day. It is healthy for me to spend some days here where silent Silence silently pollutes the noise and noisemakers of the World.

These days I spend lots of time in the small quiet chapel in this house, just sitting, letting the Silence invade my spirit. Sometimes in this chapel I read pages from the Hermann Hesse “Wanderung”, which is the only book I read these years, over and over again, the only book I always carry with me in my travels.

These days I make long walks along the main road in the vicinity. My walks have no destination, just to waste time and keep my spirit in shape. Along the way, for about a hundred metres this road is thickly flanked on each side by very tall trees, giving it a peaceful shade. From the beauty of this World, each one of these trees seems to be proudly rising in an endeavour to reach the Beauty of the sky.

Yesterday I went for a day to Cologne which is quite near. I spent most of the day just sitting in front of the Cologne cathedral belfries. In their presence I am overwhelmed, as they humbly rise from the beauty of this World, reaching and touching the Beauty of the Skies.

This afternoon I am in this garden, kneeling in grateful admiration or adoration, contemplating the sacred Beauty of each one of these Apples, of this Apple Tree, of Nature and its Maker. I pick all Apples from the ground under this Tree and stand up on my feet. I wash and eat two, tasting their sweet goodness as I munch them very slowly ; the other ones I will eat later. I count them and to my surprise I realize that I have picked fourty one Apples, same as my age, one for each year I have lived till now. I smile as I remember that fourty one is also the number Judas Ben Hur was assigned while he was prisoner on the Roman galleys. With a fanfare of Silence, this afternoon my spirit rejoices in a renewed Hope.

(Ehreshoven - Germany, September 2006)


"YOUR SMILE" (a rhyme)

 Night stars are shining brightly
 My Soul is very sad
 The hours go by slowly
 It’s long, it drives me mad.

 And now it is late morning
 I’m tired still in bed,
 The yellow sun is dawning,
 Black clouds fill up my head.

 I’m trying to start working
 My heart is full of dread
 All round me bored and boring
 I feel as if I’m dead.

 In my past education
 With good thoughts I was bred
 Search truth and you’ll be happy
 Was told and also read.

 As I munch down my dinner
 Meat, fish, good fruit and bread
 I should be feeling thankful
 And yet it tastes so bad.

 As I mix up my colours
 Blue, orange, white and red
 In vain I search for Beauty
 Been better wish I had.

 But now Kharine you’re smiling
 My heart starts feeling glad
 My troubles get so lighter
 From me black thoughts have fled.

(January 2007)



 84 Triq il-Kappillan Hili,
 Fontana FNT 1012, Ghawdex.

 L-Onor. Prim Ministru Dr. Lawrence Gonzi,
 Il-Berga ta’ Kastilja, Valletta.

21 ta’ Lulju 2008

Onorevoli Prim Ministru,

Jien malti cittadin komuni u gentilment nixtieq naghmel zewg suggerimenti dwar il-progett tal-Bieb tal-Belt Valletta u s-sit tat-Teatru Rjal.

L-ewwel suggeriment hu li kemm Bieb il-Belt kif ukoll il-fdal tat-Teatru jigu kkonservati kif inhuma u jigu pprezentati b’mod xieraq. Fi ftit kliem dan isir billi :

— Wiehed jara jekk jehtigux xi tishih strutturali. Dan zgur ighodd ghall-hnejjiet li baqa’ tat-Teatru, li llum qed izommu mirfudin b’injam u gebel.

— Imbaghad kemm Bieb il-Belt kif ukoll il-fdal tat-Teatru jigu mnaddfa minn haxix, min-nugrufun u minn elementi estraneji ohra li ngabru fuqhom maz-zmien.

— Wara dan, ghall-fdal tat-Teatru, jekk ikun mehtieg issir ir-reintegrazzjoni jigifieri l-fdal jigi pprezentat b’mod li jkun jidher iktar maghqud u sabih ghall-ghajn.

It-tieni suggeriment hu li wara li jigu kkonservati u pprezentati b’mod xieraq, dawn jigu kemm jista’ jkun rijabilitati, jekk possibbli. Gieli fuq Bieb il-Belt rajt arbli bil-bnadar u nahseb li dan ga pass ‘il quddiem. Kemm il-Bieb kif ukoll il-fdal tat-Teatru jistghu forsi jigu mdawla (jekk mhumiex ga), l-iktar taht il-dahla tal-Bieb biex ma jkunx hemm abbuzi fid-dlam. Fil-btajjel pubblici jista’ forsi jsir xi spettaklu ta’ dwal fuq il-Bieb. Fil-qrib jistghu forsi jitqeghdu xi qsari jew sigar b’ward imlewwen.

Inhoss li Bieb il-Belt u l-fdal tat-Teatru mhumiex xi mostri koroh. Ahna u resqin biex nidhlu l-Belt, il-fethiet tal-Bieb joffru “serial vision” (juru hjiel tal-gmiel u jahbu bicca mill-Belt fuq wara, halli tikber ix-xewqa biex wiehed jidhol u jara iktar). Il-fdal tat-Teatru wkoll ghandhom seher.

Huma parti mill-Istorja tal-Belt Valletta u z-zewg suggerimenti li qed naghmel ikomplu jirrispettawha. Madanakollu ma nixtieq b’ebda mod infixkel xi pjanijiet li ga jista’ ghandek ghal dan il-progett. Inselli ghalik u niehu din l-okkazjoni biex nirringrazzjak ta’ hidmietek b’rizq il-gzejjer maltin.

Dejjem tieghek,

Godwin Cutajar


the fab 4 :





ps : a me ringo, george, paul e john me fanno ’na pippa.

(Paris, June 2009)


My alpha(omega)bet :

 b for Beauty,
 c for Creativity,
 d for damnatiomemoriae,
 e for energy,
 f for fulcrum,
 g for golden Godwin,
 h for hallelujah,
 i for infinite infinity,
 j for journey,
 k for Kharine,
 l for lumaca,
 m for majjistral,
 n for Nature,
 o for oooooooooooo,
 p for Peace please,
 q for quiet quintessential quest,
 r for ramaya,
 s for Spring,
 t for tequila,
 u for Universe,
 v for Venus,
 w for walk,
 x for xoxo,
 y for yellowish yellow,
 z for zero,
 a for adieu`(a to, Dieu God).

(February 2010)


quote :


(London, 30th. June 2011)


I am walking along the path. I look back over my shoulders and see the long path behind me. I have been walking along this path for almost nine months and now my body feels heavy and exhausted.

My spirit is aching and I want to make a painting. I stop on the edge of the path and prepare my painting accessories. I feverishly begin to stain the canvas with yellows of ochre and cadmium. Kyrie eleis on. With prussian and cobalt blues I shape out a big yellow rectangle near the lower right corner, and two bright yellow spheres on the upper left corner. Pain in my spirit is increasing dramatically as I try to make the rectangle contour look like the xlendi tower, the spheres’ contours of a moon and a star very near each another, almost one body.

I look back over my shoulders. My path is full of golden childhood memories, when father and mother took me with the family to swim and spend the day at xlendi bay which is very near where I dwell most of my life and where my ancestors worked as fishermen. The xlendi tower stands at the opening of this bay for centuries, facing the wildest of wild storms, winds, rains, seas, wars and most of all shows no signs of surrendering. The far off horizon may look sleepy or sleeping, but this tower stands very upright on its feet and constantly awake. It stands lost in stoic solitude gazing, gazing and gazing at Infinity. This tower injects my decay with Faith, Hope and Clarity.

I am on the side of this path and my spirit is screaming with the throes of birth as I struggle with my painting. Ky rie e lei son, c h riste el e is on. If each tower stone narrates so much history, I want each one of my painted stains to radiate the equivalent of mystery. In pain and paint my tower is lost in the very dark blue night sky, but bathed in the redemptive Light of the moon and the star. I add a spot of titanium white to the moon and the star to make them the brightest. I infuse this painting with energy to an exponential power of a million millions, so I dab it once with vermillion, the colour of passion, life and strife in rife. With the tip of the brush I sculpture the names of my mother and father in the soft paint impastos.

I think I have finished this painting. For long I have been pregnant with it, now I feel very relieved it is born. I sit down and look at it. Against all adversities, I want to resist like this tower. Among all distractions, I want to contemplate Infinity like this tower. I pray my mother to call out my name as she did during her lifetime. I pray my father and my mother to continue light my walk. Kyrie eleison. Christe, christe eleison. Kyrie eleison. Kyrie eleison. I kiss my painting and hang it along the path.

It is time for me to proceed with my walk. It is getting dark and night is approaching. As I walk I look at the sky, it is full of shooting stars.

(10th. August 2011, 53rd. anniversary of my parents’ marriage)


She was a girl with a pair of rosy cheeks and red coral lips. She played and fell, but always got up on her feet. She liked to wear colourful dresses. I nicknamed her Rose.

She grew up to a fine teen with a pair of rosy cheeks and red coral lips. She met a man who on an August day in which she wore a magnificent black dress made her his Queen. After that day she worked and fell, but always got up back on her feet. She wore colourful dresses and a crown with four shining stars. I nicknamed her Violet.

The thunder crushed, the rains poured, the sun eclipsed, the torrents roared, the stars twinkled, the winds blew and the sun shone. She worked and fell, but one August day she never got up on her feet. As she was laid to rest wearing a white dress and white stockings, a very magnificent bright white dress and white stockings, I put some makeup on her pale yellow face so she would have coral red lips and rosy cheeks. Flowers I put in her cold hands so she would still look colourful like when she wore her dresses. Her name was Phyllis.

(22nd. August 2011, first anniversary of mother’s demise).


Dear Kharine,

If you and I will ever make a son I wish to call him LANDA. If you and I will ever make a daughter I would also like to call her LANDA. All the children we may make together I would like to call them LANDA, why, I don’t know.

If I will ever have a dog as a pet I will name it DOGWIN.

(Sunday 27th. November 2011)


Dear Kharina,
 I like music.
 When I grow up I dream to play music in discotheques and nightclubs working as a DJ.
 My nickname will be DJ MISTER MINESTRA.

(Sunday 27th. November 2011)








(Tuesday 29th. November 2011)


Ciao, come stai oggi ?

Sto bene, oggi e’ il mio compleanno. Faccio quaranta sei anni.

E cosa hai fatto in tutti questi anni ?

Questo me lo chiedo pure io.

(2nd. December 2011)


Dear Kharina,

The sun is rising, it is eight. As I begin to make my bed, Chabuca Granda is singing "Puente De Los Suspiros". Echoes of an effortless Beauty drain my brain.

Today I will continue to walk my Walk, exploring black realms for another precious pearl or two. I will touch the cold cobwebs and the wet dark of my broken yesterday, but the warm yellow light of hope is my dope. Yellowish and reddish blues, with pale pain hues, strain and stain my brain.

I slowly even the many wrinkles in my four bed sheets. I have the illusion of being a little Maker of order in this disorder, putting my bed in its best, till it is time again to rest. Wow, will I arrive to the next eight ? How ?

"Puente De Los Suspiros" has ended. My bed, or the bed is ready and white. The sun is shining bright. Today I will live, sigh, die, cry, give, live, live, try uncover an endless Beauty for the universe to behold. My spirit silently begins to hum the fab four "Let it Be".


(Wednesday 7th. December 2011)


a thrilling trilogy :

in god we trust,

i n g o d w i n t r u s t,

in good wine trust.

(Thursday 15th. December 2011)


Come stai oggi ?

Oggi me sento emo.

E che vor di` ?

Ma niente. Vor di` che trascorrero` quest’oggi vivendo la tristezza, la noia, la malinconoia, la malinconia, la malinchromia, la monochromia, al limite pure la depressione, l’oppressione, la repressione, la regressione e la confusione.

Ma va a caga` va...

(Sunday 18th. December 2011)


quote :

too blue to blue today

(Wednesday 21st. December 2011)


 Tonight I got in bed, but I am sleepless.
 Tonight in bed I am day dreaming of your sweet devil or wicked angel face.
 Tonight I got out of bed, picked my paint and brushes to proceed with my endless endeavour to capture the wonder of your naked browns, black and blues.
 Tonight I am again in bed praying God to give you a sleepy night and not a sleepless one like mine.
 Tonight I am feeling cold, so I made a cup of green china tea to warm my spirit.
 Tonight I sit with closed eyes in the dark, hoping sleep would envelop me from head to toes.
 Tonight I peeped out of the window, the moon outside is unusually big, bright and shaped like a sleeping letter “C”.
 Tonight the stars are coloured of your light pink, light blue and bright red dresses.
 Tonight I am still feeling cold, so now I make a cup of yellow china tea to which I add thirty two drops of whisky.
 Tonight in the dark I contemplate your natural shapes and colours, which everyday are my light and my delight.
 Tonight on utube I softly play and sway with the missa luba """kyrie eleison""" which transmits the same powerful rythms of your Beauty.
 Tonight I try to remember what I was doing that day and that hour you were born.
 Tonight I am remembering the very first night we were together.
 Tonight I light a candle in the dark and the shadows it casts entertain me as they dance like very crazy frogs.
 Tonight the thing I desire most is to be raped and enslaved by the sweet chains of your Beauty which frees me from every pain.
 Tonight, echoes of your smooth brown velvet voice warm and heal my spirit in this infinite silence.
 Tonight I get again in bed and I am trying to sleep.
 Tonight I gave birth to a new painting and successively rubbed its rear with levander oil to give it a special scent.

Carine, tonight the night feels a hundredfold more night then usual, but I am a thousandfold blessed as tomorrow you will be thirty two years young.

(January 2012)


It is afternoon, I am sitting in the garden at the house where I live.

Today is a very cloudy day. The sky is very thick dark grey, and I have had to struggle to keep my eyelids open all day. Air is very humid and everything is sticky. I have tried to continue the painting I am working on, but I can barely see, so it remained at a standstill. I had an appointment on the bridge with a close friend but he never showed up.

Now I am in the garden. I have taken out a small table. I have taken out also my box of colours and a drawing book. I still keep this colour box of wax crayons and this drawing book from my childhood. The crayons are very much worn out, but they never seem to finish and I hope they never will. The drawing paper sheets are veiled by a yellow patina. The day is very grey and dark but in the trees I could hear some birds singing. Strangely enough I seem to have heard this melody before, but I cannot remember what it is.

On the paper in pencil I draw a garden full of flowers and the sun in the sky. Near the centre I draw two butterflies flying on the flowers ; I draw them close to one another as if they are fast friends. How will I colour my drawing ? The sky, the sun, the flowers and garden I decide to make in monochrome and fill all outlines in grey. I have only one grey crayon, so to achieve different tones I rub it in different densities. But the butterflies I want to make in polychrome. I colour the wings of one butterfly in brown and in this brown I draw red and white broken hearts in a black outline. As I colour this butterfly I ask myself where do broken hearts go ? I think they go to the Sun, the golden goddess that gives hope, light and life, so I colour the wings of the other butterfly in navy blue, with a big bright yellow orange sun in the middle across the wing span.

My drawing is ready. I look at it and the playful colourful butterflies I have made on this grey background on this grey afternoon are my spirit’s delight. The birds are still singing and now to my surprise I realize it is the melody of the Gypsy Kings’ version of “Volare”. My day, my afternoon today is grey but I don’t mind. My day tomorrow may be grey and I don’t mind. My days tomorrow may be very grey, but I have no fear.

(13th. February 2012)


Come stai oggi ?

Oggi me sento proprio bene me sento.

E come mai ?

Perche` c’e’ nell’aria odor de femmina.

Senti nell’aria odor di femmina ? E come ti piace la femmina, bionda o mora ?

Non conta se e’ mora bionda gialla o rossa, alta o bassa, grossa o magra. L’importante e’ che sia insaziabile, imprevedibile, incomprensibile, impossibile. Insomma in poche parole deve avere gli ormoni sballati, molto sballati.

Ah bene. Molto bene.

(Friday, 8th. June 2012)


Mi dici quali sono per te i tre valori piu` importanti nella vita ?

Si, il primo e’ pensare a cosa mangiero` per pranzo.

Il secondo ?

Il secondo e` pensare a cosa mangiero` per pranzo.

E il terzo ?

Il terzo e` pensare a cosa mangiero` per pranzo.

Complimenti. Hai dei valori molto alti.

(6th. July 2012)


Au, ciao, per chi voterai domani ?

Votero` per il partito degli Estremintegralisti Anticocommunisti Edonisti Non Poco Tristi.

Santo cielo e che razza de partito e’ questo ?

E` il partito de quelli che non hanno piu` nulla da perde’.

C’avrei giurato, allora in bocca al lupo.

(8th. March 2013)



Au ciao senti questa. De recente stavo cercando de scopri’ l’albero de li antenati mia e ho scoperto che vengo da una famija artistocratica e forse anche un po’ aristocratica. Ho inoltre scoperto il mio proprio nome.

Si` e che cos’e` ?

Il mio nome completamente completo e` Drater Godwin Bruno de los Reyes Bajos de Santa Fe. Te piace ?

Si` tantissimo, miei coglioni.

(16th. March 2013)


you ask what... ???

 who is the person who remembers all your birthdays from when you were 21 ?
 who is the person who has a passion for your fashion ?
 who is the person who gave you presents including a valuable xxxxx ?
 who is the person who shows interest for your health, for your swollen gland, for your carbuncle and other illnesses ?
 who is the person who understands you more than you understand yourself ?
 who is the person who travels thousands of miles for just one of your smiles ?
 who is the person who for many years spoils you and offers you a shoulder to cry on when you are feeling frustrated ?
 who is the person who remembers all your hairstyles ?
 who is the person to whom night and day, day and night you are the light and delight ?
 who is the person who goes crazy for your natural brown complexion ?
 who is the person who painted your portraits and which are now exhibited in painting collections around the World ?
 who is the person who knows the deepest feelings of your heart by just looking in your eyes ?

(Saturday, 29th. June 2013)


 Such a long time that I have not written to you before I go to sleep. I think you know by now how much I like to write to you after my day’s work. I have so much to tell you tonight.

 In the past weeks I was working on a painting and today I finished it. The subject of this painting is a self portrait that is I painted myself. On my bare back I have painted a tattoo, this tattoo is one of those sensual designs I had showed you months ago. This tattoo is that one in which a white man and a brown girl caress each other lovingly, the girl rests her head sweetly on him, she is crying softly on his broad shoulders because she is brokenhearted, as he surrounds her and protects her body and soul from all harm and illness.

 Right beside me I made a portrait of you. Yes your portrait, I painted you with that hairstyle where your hair hangs very long and straight down each side of your face almost touching the outer corner of your eyes. I painted your hair in its natural deep black colour and for this I use Prussian Blue which is a very dark blue which complements your brown complexion perfectly. Your eye shadow and lips I also made blue because blue are your thoughts, blue are your habits, blue are your words, blue are your tears, blue is your soul and blue is your universe. This hairstyle suits you so much because your hair frames your face just like a cornice frames a painting and thus your facial features look more concentrated and penetrating. Know what, the way you stand right beside me in this painting you look as my guardian angel.

 At first I could not figure out what to put in the background. But then I told myself why not put some of your swimwear, I think you know how obsessed I am with your fashion and swimwear. So I painted a washing line and hanging on it there is your bright orange bikini drying. I know you had alot of swimwear but this orange bikini was and remains my favourite. I wonder if you remember it, you were wearing it when we were swimming together that day you took me to the Paradise Island. I can never forget that day, I could just sit and look at you, look at you, look at you till the end of times. The sun was shining brightly but your sweet and sour grin shone much brighter. Do you remember what we did together in the sea ? My five senses, my fifty senses, my five hundred senses got drunk as you lay with your long hair spread out bathing in the sun to add a golden glow to your brown body. One day I may lose my mind but I will never forget that most wonderful day. In this painting I painted your bikini in every detail, it even had a small white ring with white fringes in the middle of your bra and in the middle of your shorts, I made these little details too.

 I forgot to tell you that in this painting I painted myself giving my back to the front plane thus giving my back to the World, because when you and I are together I forget all my troubles.

 Dear it is night now. I look out of my window, it is very dark and tonight there is not even one heavenly star in the sky I could talk to. The radio beside me is softly playing Pietro Domenico Paradisi’s Toccata in A major for the harp and strings. These days life has not been so kind to me and there is so much darkness inside me and around me. I look at the painting I have finished today and see you by my side as my very blue guardian angel. Actually I don’t know if you are my guardian angel or my guardian devil or both. I don’t know if I like you or hate you, or both. I don’t know if I am sane or insane. I don’t know if I have failed or succeeded. All I know is that you are the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.

 (Wednesday, 10th July 2013.)


 It is night now I will soon go to sleep. Today all day long I could not wait for this moment to come as I am dying to narrate to you what I did today. In fact I did something really special.

 This morning I visited your facebook page. On it besides your pictures there are also pictures of a creature, he has a beard and sometimes he wears spectakills, I think he is a man. Well guess what I did. I printed these pictures of this creature on soft paper, then I used them as toilet paper to wipe my ass clean when I went to the bathroom. I felt so good when I was cleaning my ass in fact the printed paper felt smoother than normal toilet paper and I told myself not even the king of kinks has toilet paper like mine. I looked at this printed picture with the creature all dirty with feces, I realized the two forms complement each other well. I threw this toilet paper in the water closet and it seemed this creature was swimming in my feces and in my urine.

 As I looked at this creature in the water closet I thought he might be sad all alone so I dressed up and ran to the garden and caught two cockroaches. I brought them to the bathroom and threw them in the water closet. I think they liked because they began to swim I said well the creature will be happy now because he has some company.

 I have a radio in the bathroom and when this creature began to drown in my excrements the radio miraculously began playing “Osanna in Excelsis” from the Great Mass K427 in C Minor by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I thought this music was perfect for this moment and as I flushed to clean the water closet I increased the radio volume to MAXimum to make the moment more exciting as it gave me pure satisfaction to see this creature on his way to the eternal hell of shit.

 Tomorrow I will eat lots of sweets and bananas and drink lots of milk so I hope to make a ton of diarrhea. I may also cook that brown pudding that I used to tell you about as it makes me do lots of diarrhea also. God willing I will make toilet paper again with the prints of that creature so for a change he will have a swim in diarrhea. I will bring him also some other insects. I hope when I am flushing there will be music fit for the occasion on the radio like today.

 On your facebook there are pictures of you hugging this creature tight to you, at first I thought I would print these pictures also for my toilet paper. But even as you know I am crazy, drugged and mentally ill, I could not bear to see you swimming in my excrements so I will not print any of your pictures on my toilet paper.

 I think your cat Jericho by now has kittens, I wonder what colour are they, I hope they have a lovely brown complexion like yours. Tomorrow, besides doing the diarrhea I plan to continue painting your portrait as I am doing a new one. About this new portrait I will tell you another time.

 Good night.


 Today I spent my day painting your portrait. In this portrait I paint you in that black shirt with neck pulled up you were wearing for that show some years ago. I think this particular shirt blends so nice with your brown complexion and also with your character.

 I hope to paint you beautiful. In the shirt I make a small change because I paint you with more open buttons and without bra so you are proudly showing off all the valley between your breasts. There are many beautiful valleys in the World, the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, the Indus Valley flowing through Pakistan China and India, the Grand Canyon Valley in the United States, the Loire Valley in France, the Shenandoah Valley, the Valley of the Moon, the Valley of the Flowers and who knows how many others, but the valley I admire most is the Valley between your breasts.

 Tomorrow I will continue with your portrait and I am sure I will paint you beautiful even if as you know I am crazy, drugged and mentally ill. This portrait will tell the World and the Universe the wonder of your body and your soul. And that everything, everything will decay but your Beauty is everlasting.

 On that occasion for that show your hair was all gathered up and as you know I prefer when you let your hair hanging free but it was fine. Your nail paint I liked so much it was black. Your tight blue jeans suited you perfectly as it shaped your curves very sensually. In this painting I made you still more glamorous because I painted you smoking a cigarette.

 How was your day today ? Did you go jogging ? Dear I hope your health is not bad and the gland which gave you so much pain is better.

 Good night.


 Today I spent most of my day painting another portrait of you. My day is always blessed when I spend it painting your portrait.

 I sketched this portrait some days ago but I did not begin to colour it because I could not decide which dress to paint you in. But this morning I decided to paint you in that top you were wearing that night you took me to teach me to play billiards. That top was bright orange and it covered you from your breasts down, leaving the upper part of your bust and your back bare naked, it suited you so much.

 I had already mixed the bright orange paints on my palette, but that instant another idea came to my mind. I told myself why not make a change and paint you in a wedding dress ? I think this idea was wonderful as I had never painted you like this. So I painted you in a white wedding dress and like that top it began from your breasts down, leaving the upper part of your bust and your back bare naked.

 With the wedding dress I thought it is a must to make you wearing some accessories. I know you have those big earrings that I like so much and also that necklace with small white and red beads, but I thought with wedding dress some special accessories are needed. So I decided to paint you with the accessories my mother was wearing on her wedding day. On that special day her earrings were like a small bunch of grapes of gold and her necklace like small beads with diamonds. So dear I painted you in these accessories and I think in this portrait you look like the Queen of all queens.

 I stood up and went a few meters away to see how your portrait looks and whether it needed any corrections. I thought I would add a transparent veil covering your head and your shoulders but the thing is that I had already painted your hair, I painted it very long, very straight and very beautiful and I was afraid I would ruin it with the veil. You know dear now much I love your hair, as usual I painted your hair with Prussian Blue colour but today I embellished it more with streaks of Cerulean Blue to make it more glamorous.

 I then painted like a black radiance coming out of you. I don’t really know why I painted this black radiance but I think I did it because the colour of your seduction is a very wicked black.

 It is night now and it is so calm. I am remembering that night you took me to teach me to play billiards. That night you looked so fine wearing that bright orange top and your tight blue jeans. As you see I remember what you were wearing but I don’t remember anything anymore about playing billiards. All I remember about this game is that it has something to do with hitting balls. I hope one night you would accompany me back to teach me how to play billiards. And when you and I are playing together please try to treat my balls gently, very gently.


 It is night but I have no sleep. I am sitting here, looking out of my window.

 The dark sky is beautiful tonight and it is full of stars. I look at the stars one by one. There is a pink star same colour of your short pink dress which shapes your female curves so sensually. There is a white star same colour as the trousers you had bought from Japan. A light blue star, the colour of your bikini that afternoon we went swimming together at the resort and very much like that bikini you were wearing at Lankayan island. There is a pale yellow star same as the top you were wearing when you came to have a nap in my bedroom. There is also a red star, identical colour of your red evening dress, my very favourite, with straps crossed like an X above your breasts and which makes everyone both men and women turn their head towards you for your sheer elegance.

 With all these stars, the universe looks wonderful tonight. I get my notebook and begin to make some quick sketches in blue ink and jot down some notes. Dear, tomorrow morning from these sketches and notes I will begin to paint a new portrait of you. And after this portrait, I will begin another, another and another one because I have a deep desire to make your Beauty shine forever like a Star in the darkness of the Universe.

 I look again at the sky and fix my attention on the light blue star which seems the brightest. I ask myself where you are right now, if you are asleep or awake like me, if you still keep your habits which made you so unique, if you still have that deep penetrating look in your eyes, if there is sunshine or rain in your broken heart. Inside me I could hear the echoes of my spirit calling out your name. Maybe you are somewhere watching this sky, who knows maybe this very moment you and I are gazing at this same brightest star.

 These coloured stars tonight remind me of your dresses. I think you know how much I admire your dressing style and how much I love to observe you in every detail from head to toes, from front to back especially when you change look. Each time I begin your new portrait I am always undecided which dress to paint you in. But tonight I have already decided and tomorrow I will paint you in the dress Mother Nature gave us.


 Today you called me crazy.
 Tonight I continue to paint your BROWN portrait.

 Today you called me drugged.
 Tonight I finished your SUPER SPICY, SWEET AND SOUR portrait.

 Today you called me mentally ill.
 Tonight I will begin to paint you as my GUARDIAN DEVIL, because you are the devil without whom my life would be a hell.

 Today you said I am crazy, drugged and mentally ill.
 Yesterday, today and tomorrow I paint your portraits not with brushes and paints, but with the eternally eternal love I have for you.


 Today was a very rainy day. The sky was heavily laden with thick clouds and the day was quite dark.

 I could not work much so I took out a chair in the little courtyard behind the house where there is also a small garden. I just sat there most of the day looking at the rain falling. In this courtyard sometimes comes a cat. It is not really mine, it comes from the nearby fields and sometimes I give him something to eat. This cat is blonde because it is white with yellow and brown spots. Frequently I call him on my laps to caress him and talk to him as he is very tame. This cat I call him Jericho like your cat.

 Today as I was sitting in the courtyard Jericho was tucked in a corner to shelter himself from the rain. I called him and he jumped on my laps. I caressed him and talked to him because he listens so attentively when I talk to him. Today I told him about the portraits I am doing of you and only of you, that I already exhibited these portraits and people who saw them remarked that you are very sensual. I also told him about these essays of affection I post on my website for you and only for you, that you could read them whenever wherever you like just switching on your internet. I wonder how many, right from Eve till today, have these privileges as you. As I talked to Jericho I tickled him with my finger under his chin and he rolled playfully on my laps.

 I showed Jericho a big tree in the garden. At this time of the year this tree makes beautiful red flowers like big stars with small yellow balls in their centre. I told him that during the Christmas season I cut some of these flowers and decorate with them the grave where my dear parents are buried.

 As the rain kept pouring I told Jericho about another cat I had when I was a boy many years ago. This cat was a she cat, she was black with a small white dot under her chin. I told Jericho I liked especially her eyes which looked so bright and wicked. She was a naughty cat and I was very scared of her claws, but I loved her.

 It is night now and I will soon go to sleep. I think Jericho is sleeping too. It was a nice day today even if it was very rainy and grey. About my she cat, I forgot to tell Jericho that her name was Carina.


 Van Gogh wrote many letters to his brother.
 I have written and sent hundreds of letters to you.

 Today I see you in your new hairstyle, wearing a big flower on your left ear. Your tight white T-shirt contrasts so perfect with your natural brown complexion, it makes your sweet breasts bulge like small mountains. Through your very long hair flowing like a wild river down your bosom I could see your nipples so clearly marked. Your dark brown eyes are twinkling more than the brightest stars. Your big sensual lips are red like coral at the bottom of an ocean. Your look today feels like a north westerly breeze "il maestrale" that caresses, cools, heals and refreshes. Today I see you like a garden of eden in which every man would want to dwell forever and ever.

 Some months ago I was talking to a girl about your charm and beauty. At the end she told me she had never heard a man talk with so much passion about a woman.

 I am making another portrait of you. Your eye shadow, your lipstick, your spirit I paint in blue. Your days, especially when you are feeling frustrated and brokenhearted I paint in the colours of a double rainbow.

 Van Gogh wrote many letters to his brother.
 The letters I send you are from a man who loves you more than he loves himself and who understands you more than you understand yourself.


 You and I are spending these few days together at this resort. Out of the window I could see the vast open blue sea, the white sand and palm trees all around. Far off on the horizon are immense clouds like sculptures. This place seems to be in the middle of nowhere. You invited me to this resort, I don’t know where we are but I don’t mind.

 These days I have seen you changing hairstyles everyday. Your hair is so long, so straight, so beautiful and so vane, very much as I like it. Its natural deep black gleams blue in sunlight and complements perfect with your brown complexion. I could stand hours, days, years just watching, watching and watching you doing your hair in front of the mirror.

 On the first day you arranged your hair with a fringe almost down to your eyes and with the sides hanging straight down your face. You ask me how do you look, I answer magnifique like an Egyptian queen.

 The second day you let it hanging down, but gathered it all in front onto your left shoulder and breast. You ask me how do you look, I answer you look better than an asian diva.

 Another day you pulled it all up behind your head and tied it in the style of a horse tail hanging down your back. You ask me how do you look, I answer too good to be true.

 Another day you let some of your hair hanging down almost hiding your right eye. You ask me how do you look in this style, I answer you look like a divine sinner.

 The fifth day you pulled it all up gathering it in a small knob at the back of your head. You ask me how do you look, I answer like my ninetyseven year old grandma who danced salsa and smoked hand rolled cuban cigars.

 Your hair is getting longer and longer. On the sixth day you let it all hanging straight down your bosom. You ask me how do you look, I answer like Mary Magdalene that day she washed the feet of the Christ with her tears and then wiped them dry with her very long hair. I say this is my favourite hairstyle.

 Another day you never combed your hair after you woke up from sleep, letting it wild and natural all day long and wearing a violet flower on your left ear. You ask me how do you look, I answer you are adorable, adorable and adorable.

 Today is the eight day. This very moment your head and your warm cheeks are right beside me and all your hair is spread wide and wild on my bare chest. Today I want to fulfill a lifelong dream, that is to count all your hairs. In silence you and I whisper sour and sweet words. Slowly I run my fingers in your hairs. They are so black and smooth, they feel like velvet and their natural scent fills my senses as an opium. I count all your hairs one by one and to my surprise they number 29,011,980.

 In silence you and I whisper sweet and sour words to each other. I ask you how do I look, you reply you will tell me only after I have given you a gift as a present. Slowly you light up a cigarette. I gaze out of the window. I don’t know where we are. I think we are in paradise.


 Please sit down as I have some curious questions to ask you tonight. I wish to ask you, about your fartner, I mean the creature with spectakills :
 on average how many times does he fart in one night ?
 does he make a simple distinction between black and white ?
 in which mortuary did you meet him and pick him up ?
 is he a retarded retard like me ?

 Now since you said you are studying italian, tonight I would kindly like to ask you a question in italian, I think you would be happy to translate :
 (parlamose chiaro, non gliene frega ’n cazzo a nessuno).

 Thank you for any information you may give me about this. Have a good night.

 (credit to the movie “Viaggi di Nozze” by Carlo Verdone)


Credo di essere cateolico.


Che la donna e’ puttana lo si sa dai tempi d’Adamo.
 Che l’uomo e’ ’mbecille lo si sa da li tempi di Eva.


Beauty is female, but never discuss Beauty with a female.


Woman is rarely inspired to give birth to a work of art, but is very often an inspiration.

 (Saturday 25th. January 2014)


C’ho gia` pisciato su un Prrrrrreti. De piscia gl’ho messo tanta per fargli un dispetto spero sagrilego, ma non abbastanza da danneggiarlo.
 Dio volendo un giorno o l’altro trovero` anche l’occasione de piscia’ su un Cacavaggio.
 Raggiungero` poi er massimo della goduria quando su un Pipicasso scarichero` o mejo sputero` un fiume de sborra disumana.

 (Monday 27th. January 2014)


About me Antonella said : “Ha una qualita` unica, parla poco e ascolta molto” (Rome 1992).
 About me Astro` said : “Quando t’ho visto arrivando ho detto questo e’ un artista” (Gozo 1997 circa).
 About me Gorg said : “In your spirit are the seeds of Poetry, take care of them” ( Gozo 1998).
 About me Andrea said : “M’ispiri fiducia” ( Rome 2000).
 About me Ioanna said : “Your emails light up my day” (Malta 2000).
 About me Daniela said : “You may be an introvert, but your paintings are an outburst of positive energy” (Beijing 2007).
 The marble helper declared at my family tomb design : “A monument like this we have never done before” (Gozo 2012).
 The carpenter asked me : “What will you do with this wood ?” His helper answered : “He will make of it a work of art” (Gozo 2012).
 About me Joe said : “You are the one who’s work is different from the others” (Malta 2013).
 About me Eric said : “If you crease that paper, it will become a work of art” (Gozo 2013).
 About me Joe said : "This exhibition will hammer you".
 About me Oliver said : "...is secure of himself all the way and handles figures and words with equal ease" (Malta 2013).
 To me Louis said : “Come now and talk to my students about the importance of drawing and the figure” (Malta 2014).
 To me Rob said : "Very fresh performance" (Gozo 13th September 2014).

 About me, I say : “EGOdwinSUM”.

 (last update August 2014)


 May your brown beauty be like makeup making my heart feel glamorous, everyday.
 May your brown beauty masturbate my thoughts a thousand times, everyday.
 May your brown beauty make my soul ejaculate a fountain of creative juice, everyday.

 May you have a rainbow coloured birthday with thirty four blue dreams, today.
 May your brown smile, your brown touch, your brown habits, your brown tears, your brown voice, your brown scent and your brown love live in me for a thousand eternities, everyday.

 (January 2014)


 i live, live, live and love beside the red hot flame of eden.
 i peel oranges and sculpt letters to queen carine under the orange moons of eden.
 on my knees with the blackbirds i sing very meaningless hymns to the pale yellow stars of eden.
 barefoot, hopeless or hopeful i walk and talk to my mother along my green ancestral path of eden.
 in destruction i remake insane winds, asymmetric dewdrops and blind suns as i abhor and adore the bright blue maker of eden.
 smiling unminded, i smoke phenol and swallow cadmium to masturbate my edenic hedonic extacies in the indigo shades of eden.
 crying unseen, i ejaculate immaculate torrents of tears into the very violet oceans of eden.

 eternally i will red, i will orange, i will yellow, i will green, i will blue, i will indigo and i will violet.

 (Friday 14th. February 2014, lovers’ day)


 There are THREE elements which have accompanied you from the beginning of times and will stay always with you.
 The second element is your RESTLESSNESS, that style of life which makes your habits and your looks unpredictably unique and seductive.
 The very first element is GOD. It is God who made you the way you are : brown, blue, brilliant and beautiful.
 Third element is GODWIN, myself. In my diary is written that you and I have been unhappily very happily married since the beginning of times and so will we remain everyday for eternity. Hate me or love me, love me or hate me but this is what destiny has wanted for you and for me. I spend most of my days and my nights painting your portraits and writing about the wonderful mystery that you are.

 Everything in life comes and goes. Travelling, experiences, sexperiences, fame, lust, illnesses, depression, tears, birthdays, everything will go by like the wind. But amongst all women, you will always be special as these THREE elements will be there to caress you, to support you, to heal you and make you smile again. Keep them close to your heart, especially the third one.

 Dear, today is a special day and so for dessert I have cooked the bread brown pudding I used to tell you about. In its recipe today I have doubled the portion of blackcurrants and tripled the portion of whisky, this to celebrate the fact that I am a member of your TRINITY.

 (Saturday 8th March 2014, Woman’s Day)


 Last night it rained heavily and once more from my broken ceiling water dripped on my sleep.
 This morning at the grocer I could not afford to buy two hundred grams of the cheapest cheese.
 I have zero, zero, zero likes on my facebook account.
 Uhh, my back is acheing more than usual.
 Today I realize I cannot glue anymore the ninetynine pieces of my yesterdays’ blue.
 Today around midday I died and heard someone say "at last".
 No one visited my painting exhibition, no one.
 After the rooster crowed, Egodwin sarcastically thrice told me that I am crazy, drugged and mentally ill.
 Today my name was put in the Taipei Hall of Shame.
 Today was so cloudy I had to struggle to keep my eyes closed and open.
 This morning I woke up hoping to make a work of art, instead I succeeded only to create another stinking farth.
 This afternoon I died again and heard someone say "good riddance".
 This evening staring at my one way mirror I caught a glimpse of the worthlessness of my nothingness.

 But tonight in satisfucktion I get lost again in the fucktory of your lustful smiles, and I will walk another thousand sinful miles.

 (Saturday 8th March 2014, Woman’s Day)


 I don’t know how crazy I am
 I don’t know how drugged I am
 I don’t know how mentally ill I am
 I don’t know how dry I am
 I don’t know how sinful I am
 I don’t know how lost I am
 I don’t know how rotten I am
 I don’t know how bored I am
 I don’t know how blue I am
 I don’t know how dirty I am
 I don’t know how useless I am
 I don’t know how godless I am
 I don’t know how low and slow I am
 I don’t even know how old I am

 All I know is that everyday I will die till you live
 And that everyday I will love you till I die.

 (Friday 4th. April 2014)


 I cry
 I cry for yyoouu,
 in the dark.

 (Sunday 11th. May 2014)


 Petrarch wrote 366 sonnets to his love Laura and for his work he was crowned poet by the senate of Rome.

 I wrote at least three times as much of essays about my one and only love which is you. I am also painting many portraits of you. All I got for this till now is that you told me I am crazy, drugged and mentally ill.

 (Wednesday 14th. May 2014)


 Hoping to heal my insanity, I give you oceans of love.
 Smiling, you just flush it all in the water closet with your excrements.

 Hoping to heal my insanity, I taste your affection.
 I am immortalising it all in my works, so generations may see how much you mean to me.
 Crying, I am immortalising it all in my works so generations may heal by my insanity.

 (Sunday 1st. June 2014)


 A woman gives birth to a human being that is always the image of God.
 A woman gives birth to an artifact that is almost always useless rubbish.

 (Wednesday 4th. June 2014)


 Do you still wear lovely swimwear when you go to the beach ?
 Did you ever buy that white bikini ?
 Do you still wear that bright orange bikini sometimes ?
 On your days at the beach do you still keep your lovely habit of wearing a bikini in the morning and then changing into a different one in the afternoon ?
 Do you still wear that light blue bikini ?
 Do you still love to get that sun tan which leaves wonderful marks of your bikini on your naked brown body ?
 Do you still wear those earrings like very big golden rings which made you look so young and so woman ?

 Tonight I dreamt someone took me to a room full of women and you were there with them. My eyes were blindfold and I was asked to choose one woman. With my hands I began to feel my way about. My heart was beating for you as it has always done from the very first time I saw you. Even if I was blindfold, at last I found a woman and when I took off my cover happily I saw I had chosen you.

 Dear do you still remember me ?

 (Thursday 5th. June 2014)


 Today I feel so much in love with you.
 Your long black hair with blue reflections, your dark brown eyes, your flat asian nose, your big sensual lips, your bright brilliant smile, your name, your scent, your style, your habits, your walk, your talk, I love every square inch of you and only of you.

 Today I am so much in love with you.
 With you today I am so much in love and in me it is raining, it is sunny, it is day, it is night, it is paradise, it is hell, it is paradise.

 I always loved you, love you and will love you from the beginning of Times.
 Without expecting anything in return.

 (Thursday 12th. June 2014)


 I looked in your penetrating eyes and read in them your deepest desires.
 I looked in your fiery asian eyes and trembling adored their splendor of creation.
 I looked in your sad eyes and saw them smiling.
 I looked in your brown eyes, framed by black diagonal eyebrows and saw them twinkling like precious pearls.
 I looked in your tired eyes and heard them singing hymns of sadness.
 I looked in your frightened eyes that were silently asking me for a caress.
 I looked, looked and looked in your big bright eyes and saw them gleaming with tears of toil and happiness.

 For eternity I look in your eyes and I want to dance and to sing.
 For a thousand eternities I look in your eyes and I am a slave and a king.

 (Thursday 19th. June 2014)


 Why are you frightened ?
 What frightens you ?

 Steady I stand by your side, day and night, night and day.

 (Friday 20th. June 2014)


 did you go gogging or to the cardio gym today ?
 does your gland still give you pain and how is your health these days ?
 did your heart heal or do you still feel it broken sometimes ?
 do you still keep your hair very very long and beautiful as i like it ?
 do you still put camomile or levander oil on yourself to keep your skin moist after the shower ?
 do you still glamour up yourself with estee lauder perfume when you are going out ?
 do you still look brown and do you still love to get that lovely golden sun tan on your body in summer ?


 (Thursday 26th. June 2014)


 I was born to dream, to dream and to dream.
 You were born to make me cry, fry and spit warm cream.


 Crying for you in silence gives me a pleasant pain everyday.
 Loving you in silence gives me sour sweet tears everyday.

 Living in you, with you and for you in silence gives me life for eternity, everyday.


 why am I a guapo ?

 because I barely have money to buy a few grams of cheese, but yet I smile,
 because with the God’s help I will walk another mile,
 because my ninety seven year old grandma danced samba and smoked Cuban cigars,
 because my mama cooked delicious tarts and taught me to like arts,
 because I mix paints and colours since I was thirteen
 but most of all because my one and only love is QUEEN KHARINE.


 Alone you were born and alone you will sigh.
 In me you are born and in me you will cry.

 With me and with you, die we will not die.


salve, salve REGINA CARINA
 vita, dulcedo et spes mea, salve.


 Has anyone noticed your hairstyle today ?
 I do.

 Has anyone noticed the colour and style of your dress today ?
 I do.

 Has anyone asked you how is your health and whether your gland gives you pain today ?
 I do.

 Has anyone ever told you that your smiles and your tears make you more and more beautiful ?
 I do.

 Has anyone ever told you that you are unique ?
 I do, I do and I do.


 to YOU my first thought when i wake up every morning,
 to YOU my last thought before i sleep.


 Today no one loved me and so I loved myself.
 Today everyone liked me but I hated my very own self.

 (Friday 22nd. August 2014)


sottane e puttane mi conducono aD IO


 il-bierah inzajt quddiem il-MARA u qaltli li jien il-bajju iblah t’alla.

 illum inzajt quddiem il-MERA, u qaltli li jiena xbieha t’alla. xbieha t’alla.

 ghada nerga’ ninza. u nibki dmugh lewn il-qawsalla.


 It is late night and I am thinking of you.
 All day, all day long today I am thinking of you.

 This week all week I am thinking of you.
 Throughout all this year I am thinking of you.
 For the past ten times hundred times thousand years every day every moment I am thinking of you.
 Because from the very beginning of times I live only in your love, I live only with your love, I live only for your love.

 It is very hot and humid tonight.
 I wish you were here, at this hour you would be fast asleep lying on the white sheets of my bed with your hair spread wild and black on my pillow, and your brown suntanned body proudly showing off the clear marks of your bikini.
 Luckily, I can still feel the natural scent you left on my pillow and bed sheets.

 Dear, tonight in a bluish blue dark I am here, thinking of you.
 Hello, where are you ?


 Tonight I am in my painting studio. I have just finished a new portrait of you. I look at it and feel very happy I succeeded to make yet this other portrait.

 In the past I usually painted all of you that is including your body. But portraits I am doing these months I paint only your face so it fills most of the painting space.

 In this portrait I finished tonight I made special emphasis on blue colour. I always painted you in blue eyeshadow and blue lipstick, but in this particular portrait I exaggerated in blue as I painted your eyeshadow very heavy and your lips very sensual, big and blue. I also put alot of blue in the background so it reinforces your eyes and your lips. For this I used different colour tubes of blue, that is Prussian Blue, Cerulean Blue and Cobalt Blue using them directly from the tube so they will retain their power and strength. I know dear how much you like to look glamourous and in this portrait I made you exceptionally glam.

 This portrait I really had finished it yesterday but tonight I retouched it a bit as I reinforced your eyebrows making them heavier. Your eyes look particularly penetrating when your eyebrows are full. Now I am very happy with this work.

 Someone once asked me why I always paint you with blue eyeshadow and blue lips. I just smiled and remained silent. But I really do it because loving you I go through pleasure and pain, heat and cold and most of all through death and life. This is what makes you distinguished, unique and different from other women.

 As I always do when I paint you, in this painting I also painted my portrait right there beside you. I do this because when you are by my side I am a god, and when I am by your side you are QUEEN KHARINE.

 It is very late now. I feel so addicted to make your portraits and tomorrow I will begin a new portrait of you. Your polychromies, your monochromies, your shades, your shapes, your scents masturbate my dreams continuously day and night and each portrait is my ejaculation of love for you. The radio is playing softly and John Miles is singing "Music was my first love and it will be my last". I smile as I know that Painting was my first love, but You and only you will be my last.

 (Tuesday 2nd. September 2014)


Dear, some time ago you told me I am crazy, drugged and mentally ill. And if this wasn’t enough, to go and get a girlfriend.

 Dear, the more you treat me worse than shit, the more and more I fall in love with you.


 Tonight I have so much to tell you.

 Tonight I inaugurated my new painting exhibition. Most of the paintings are your portraits. I tried to paint you very super, sensual, sweet and sour, as always. I think you know by now how much I am addicted to your asian brown beauty. Of all the girls in the World, the one I always paint is you and only you. Who knows why ?

 I inaugurated this exhibition with a short performance that I myself invented, wrote and recited. In it I mentioned your name. Several people came for this event and we had wine and some light food. I tried to be happy but all the time I was thinking about you and so I was sad. Someone asked me “who is the girl ?”, but I stayed silent. A friend called George who is a great artist and is brown like you, to make me happy and spoil me began to feed me with his hands and this made me smile.

 For the first time in my life in the posters and invitations of this exhibition instead of my real name I wrote Goatwin. I used this name because to tell you the truth sometimes I feel like a foolish goat loving you. But then I always fall in love again, with you and only with you. Who knows why ?

 Some days ago the television crew filmed the exhibition as these days it is being featured on television. Tonight the inauguration was also filmed and it will be uploaded on the net.

 This is the second exhibition I am doing with your portraits. I did another one last year, it was nice too. In that inauguration someone asked me “who is the girl ?”, but I stayed silent.

 In this exhibition besides the paintings I also showed a love note, one love note like the ones I usually write to you. The art critic who reviewed my exhibition on television said this love note “is a will of supreme love”. I am glad the World will recognize how much you mean to me. Of these love notes I composed more than a thousand, of all the girls in the World for you and only for you. Who knows why ?

 Each time I paint your portrait it is being with you again. Each time I write a love note for you it is being with you again. It is being with you again and again at the Grand Men Seng, at Paradise Island, at the Barcelo Pearl Resort, at the shopping mall, at the movie, at the restaurant. It is being with you in the Garden of Eden.

 It is very late now. Outside my window it is dark but I think I am seeing a double rainbow, I don’t know if it’s real or the wine I drank. I am tired but very proud to have succeeded to make this second exhibition with your portraits. My dream is to make another, another and for ever another portrait of you so I could make you a star. At my exhibition inauguration tonight someone asked me “who is this girl ?” I replied “she is the girl I loved at first sight, she is the girl who called me crazy, drugged and mentally ill, she is the girl I will love till I die”. The one and only girl I will love till I die. Who knows why ? Who knows why ? Only God knows. And Godwin.


 Patricia, Michelle, Iris, Maria Paula, Catherine, Juna, Marianne, Naecelle, Nicole, Mayumi and Sakura are all lovely girly names.

 But yours and only yours is the name I long for whenever I look around me.
 Darling please heal me whenever I whisper your name, your name, your name.
 In the dark.


this is the girl.
 this is the girl.
 this is the girl.
 this is the girl.
 this is the girl.
 this is the girl.
 this is the girl.
 she is the girl.
 she is my girl.


 (Wednesday 10th. September 2014)


 The last words Vincent Van Gogh said were that sadness will last forever.
 The first words I said were that my lust madness for you may last forever.
 The last words I said were that my love gladness for you will last beyond every forever.

 (Friday 24th. October 2014)


 before YOU there is nothing.
 after YOU there was nothing.

 in YOU i am nothing.
 and in YOU i am every everlasting everything.

 (Wednesday 19th. November 2014)


 Today I longed for your smile.
 Yesterday so much I longed for your smile.
 But I was left out.

 Tomorrow I will wake up for your smile.
 Tomorrow, I will live for your smiles.
 I may be left out and without.
 But tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow in silence I cry, I vie and die for just one of your smiles.

 (Saturday 22nd. November 2014)


 dear, anyone noticed the cut of your fiery eyes today ?
 anyone noticed the make of your luscious lips ?
 anyone noticed your long deep black hair flowing like an edenic river down your back ?
 anyone noticed the natural golden brown honey colour of your skin ?
 anyone noticed the unpredictable restlessness of your soul ?

 dear, in the portrait I made I make of you today your uniqueness is noticed by every universe, in glee.
 and adored, abhored, adored by ME.

 (Monday 24th. November 2014)


 My love for you knows no Time.
 My love for you knows no Space.

 My love for you knows you, you and only you.


 in my paintings you and i are we,
 nothing, no illness, no harm and no sin could ever tarnish your beauty,
 nothing, not even death or life could ever take you away from me.


i like brown bread, i like brown spaghetti, i like brown rice, i like brown ice cream, i like brown chocolate, i like my brown tie and I like my brown shoes.



Er mio primo passo verso l’intelligenza l’ho fatto quando ho cominciato a capi` che non capisco manco ’n cazzo.


 I feel alive, without money
 I feel alive without friends, without enemy and without family
 I feel alive without a car
 I feel alive without ipod, ipad and iphone
 I feel alive without a sky and I feel alive each time I’m about to die
 I feel good with and without god
 I feel happy with and without selfness
 I feel happy even without happiness.

 But I am very very dead when you be sad.

 (Sunday 14th December 2014)


 I look in your fiery eyes and read in them your deepest desires.
 I look in your asian eyes and trembling adore their splendor of creation.
 I look in your sad eyes and see them smiling.
 I look in your brown eyes, framed by black diagonal eyebrows and see them twinkling like precious pearls.
 I look in your tired eyes and hear them singing hymns of sadness.
 I look in your frightened eyes and feel them asking for a caress.
 I look, look and look in your bright eyes and see them gleaming with tears of toil and happiness.

 I close my eyes and I be thine.
 I close my eyes and you be mine.

 (Thursday 29th January 2015, on your birthday)


 i plod across the deserts of my spirit, in the dark.
 seen or unseen i suck and fuck my being, in the dark.
 i tell the raging winds to take me nowhere, in the dark.
 i pray the swelling oceans to engulf me, i pray the smiling sunshine to dissolve me, in the dark.
 i spit to hit the rainbow, it’s so dark.
 is it dark or is i blinded by the evil shroud ?
 my life is slowly dying, i’m so dark,
 ka wai sawawa shaua.

 today I found my LOVE and it shines blue
 my soul feels a caress because it’s YOU.

 (Saturday 14th February 2015, to my lovely one and only, on lovers’ day)


 With me I smile as the most sour smiles of your life you give them to me.
 With me I smile as the SWEETEST SMILE of your life you gave it to me.

 With you I smile as all the life of my life I give it to you.

 (Sunday 8th March 2015, to you wherever you may be, on Woman’s Day)


 Today I forgot my name,
 I forgot my age,
 I forgot how to walk, I forgot how to talk.

 But I did not forget your smile,
 I did not forget your look,
 And I did not forget your style.

 Today I forgot to live.
 But I will never forget to love.
 You, only you, my little blue.

 (Saturday 21st March 2015)


 In the dark I try to walk but I am blind.
 In the dark I try to glue the broken life I left behind.
 In pain and in vain I try to patch the missing pieces of my mind.

 Dear, yet in this dark I see your brown eyes, your pink scent, your violet voice, your golden charm, your white smiles, your black tears. And I can see your crimson passion and your bluest desires.

 With you in this dark I feel tranquil and bright.
 With you in this dark I dream bathed in light.

 (Sunday 29th March 2015)


 the only one hue i’m blue without is YOU.

 (Saturday 9th May 2015)


 La Clerici non vive senza fallo.
 Mi’ sorella non vive senza fallo.

 Anch’io non vivo senza fallo.
 E per di piu`vivo da fallito.

 (Sunday 10th. May 2015)


 La Clerici non vive senza cazzo.
 Mi’ sorella non vive senza cazzo.

 Anch’io non vivo senza cazzo.
 E per di piu`non capisco manco un cazzo.

 (Sunday 10th. May 2015)


 Today I was happy and painted a work that looks like fart.
 Yesterday I was unhappy and painted a work that looks like art.

 (Monday 11th. May 2015)


 In the eden I searched for a flower as glamorous as you, but I did not find.
 In the eden I searched for a sculpture as curvy as you, but I could not find.
 I looked up at the heavens for a star as bright as you and I did not find.
 I looked down in hell to see a devil as wicked as you, but I did not find.
 In the eden I tasted all fruits, but a cherry as sweet as yours I may never find.
 In the realms of eden, of heaven and of hell I adored all gods, but a shegod as godly as you I know I will never find.

 Tonight alone I cry for your love I left behind.
 Tonight with you I smile for your love that heals my mind.

 (Sunday 10th. May 2015)


 Many times I do.
 Few times I don’t do.
  ?With time I grew ?
 Every time at most times I’m untrue.

 Sometimes I want one, almost never I want two.
 But all times, at all times I want you, I need you, my sweet blue.

 (Friday 22nd. May 2015)


 For you I may be none.

 For me you are the sun.
 And for me you are the one.
 The only one.

 To you I may be none, but without you I am done.

 (Friday 5th. June 2015)


 Three times I talked to the stars today.
 Three times I drank, three and a half times I got drunk.
 Three times I peed.
 Almost three times my cock crowed proudly with its head high in the sky.
 Three times three times I washed my hands.
 Three times I cried and three times thirty times I died.
 Three times I prayed.

 Three times every second I whispered your name today.
 And three million eternitimes I do desire you tonight.

 (Wednesday 8th. July 2015)


 Beethoven composed his Fur Elise when he was practically deaf.
 I composed your portraits when I was practically dead.

 (Friday 10th. July 2015)


 I don’t know how to paint, but I continue to paint.
 I don’t know how to cook, but I continue to cook.
 I don’t know how to fuck, and I continue to fuck and to suck.
 I don’t believe in God, but I continue to love God.
 I don’t believe in Godwin, and yet I continue to be Godwin.

 I don’t know how to love, but love I will give.
 And when I am dead, forever I will live.

 (Friday 17th. July 2015)


 Today I wrote your name across the sands, but time will wash it away.
 Today I sculpted your name across the rocks, but time will wash it away.

 Two eternities ago I painted your name across my heart, and time will wash it away if forever ever loses its sway.

 (Sunday 19th. July 2015)


 Blue is your name and blue is your flame.
 Blue were your lips and blue are your lips.
 Blue is your walk and blue is your talk.
 Blue are your years, blue are your fears and blue are your tears.
 Blue were your words, blue are your worlds.
 Blue are your blues, very blue taste your blues.

 Your blue, the only potion that lights my emotion.
 Your blue, the holy jive that keeps me alive.

 (Friday 7th. Aug 2015)


 I smile even if my life is mostly a succession of failures.
 I smile even if day and night my soul aches in anguish.
 I smile even if I don’t have money to buy my daily needs.
 I smile even as I see Godwin turning into a Goatwin.
 I smile even when alone I am under the pouring rain.
 I smile even if I have lost every direction.
 I smile even if what was sweet now tastes so sour.
 I smile even if I unable to dream anymore.
 I still smile, even if I have no more reason to smile.

 Never never anymore can I be with you till I die.
 Forever and only for this I do endlessly cry.

 (Friday 14th. August 2015)


 I will follow you even if you don’t follow me.
 I will chase you even if you won’t chase me.
 I do need you even if you don’t need me.
 I desire you even if you don’t desire me.
 I am always yours even if you don’t want to be mine.
 I adore you even if you abhor me.
 I will never hurt you even if you do hurt me.

 Because I am a kink.
 Or because I am the king.

 (Saturday 15th. August 2015)


 here i lie,
 living day by day as i die,
 with you in a bluish blue, sky high
 in the truest lie.

 (from my legeniary imaGO DWIN)


 under the dark moon
 alone I recite
 the night
 of me and you
 in a sea of bright
 in a sea of blue
 that is never, never
 or forever.

 (from my legendiary imaGO DWIN)


 for you I sing
 in pain or in vain
 my poem of pink
 as tears of death flow down from my eyes
 as juice of life flows out from my vice
 to celebrate
 my most sour pleasure
 and my sweetest treasure.

 (from my legendiary imaGO DWIN)


 You and all the universe say AIM HIGH.
 But I will aim low,
 Low, low
 to taste your sour sweet camel toe.

 (from my legendiary imaGO DWIN)


 the only king i ever painted is myself.
 the only kink i ever painted is myself.
 the only dog i ever painted is myself.
 the only god i never painted is perhaps, myself.

- december 2018 ************