Short tale about LOV

LOV is a way to perceive art. LOV is a way to perceive life. LOV is the attempt to perceive the whole existence like an artistic process and, at the same time, like a total ongoing work of art.

LOV is looking for debate and conflict, because LOV is in love with knlowledge. LOV is looking for a bond between all art forms, because LOV hates the limits due to specialization.

But, before being all that, LOV has been, and currently is, a tangible place.

A real red and white chamber with a leaning wooden bookcase, an oblong abstract canvas, a big white closet containing n°19 diaries full of coloured secrets, n°7 boxes of old photos never getting old, n°63 notebooks full of real dreams, a fake camera, n°34 numbered telephone-books containing, in alphabetical order, each species of living being belonging to the animal kingdom, for whom the human being had cried at least one time over the millennia.

There are two ceilings, one is red, the other one is white, for the rest they are identical, n°0 doors and n°2 windows, one has no curtains, the other one became a mirror. There's also another mirror, but this one always smiles and for this cause it's reasonable to think that its smile is false. Anyway, if you look through it, you can see the reflection of: n°15 pairs of Polaroid, n°1 spherical globe map that never stops rotating and always shines, even during the day, and a chest of drawers with two drawers, each one containing a happy memory and a terrible one.

It's a small room, offering a reduced walkable area and even less breathable air; for this reason, those who wanna enter it must believe in the existence of several places inside a place. It happened that the two right angles of the wall that was used to receive the biggest amount of sunlight during wintertime, with the passage of the equinoxes and solstices, got more and more warm and their shapes became more and more soften, to the point that they fell in love and they melted in a single angle, that was neither right, nor round, nor flat, because love can't be reduced in only one word and that wasn't even an angle in literal terms, because we can't have any sureness when we speak about love.

In wider terms, the only certainty we have about love is that its strength is always able to produce something astonishing. On this specific occasion, the one that was occurring in the red and white chamber, the strength of the love between the two angles was capable of producing a place inside the place.

For several years, that place inside the place was the perfect location for the proliferation and accumulation of beautiful but unspeakable stuff. One day, after a long period of mute confusion, the beauty could no more recognize itself and decided to leave the place inside the place with a set purpose: beginning a dialogue with the world, which would have put that deafening silence to rest and would have filled its identity with a brand new security.

On the other hand, the unspeakability, which could pronounce not even a word to persuade the beauty to stay, choose to keep on hiding itself into that silent place inside the place, where it still lives, daily watching over the beauty from afar, gradually forgetting the reasons why the beauty used to be such beautiful.


LOV aims

On the one hand, LOV aims to organize all the beauty existing in the world, probably because organizing the world means understanding life. To this purpose, it will use specific means and tools: you (your opinion, your collected beauty), a call (a theme, a debate), a magazine (a real proof of the result of the debate) published at the end of each call.

On the other hand, LOV wants to celebrate beauty as well as we celebrate love: through intuition and passion, without the application of particular tools or methods, rather finger-pointing a beauty, waiting until someone directs his gaze to it. LOV will speak in plain terms, because art is communication and communication must be clear.

You are the world.

Every single existing beauty on earth owes its life to you.

Thought and raised by Smich Lov. 

Loved from the first.

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