Painter of the Universe

Interview with János Szász Saxon by Zsuzsa Dárdai

Zsuzsa Dárdai: – Your career as an artist, including the formative years, spans nearly 30 years. You have your roots in village life – you grew up in Tarpa, the village of Tamás Esze (a general in Rákóczi’s war of independence, 1703-11), near the border with Ukraine. Like the Little Prince, you also had your own little planet, with trees and flowers, forests and fields, rivers, insects, birds, cows, a hill and the endless starry sky… and then work, helping the parents as it is usual in farmers’ life. How can you define the influences that you were exposed to?

Saxon: – That I come from Tarpa is important both in a physical and intellectual aspect. I believe that my view of essence and thus my artistic career are based on the know-ledge and experience gained as a child. I owe all this to my family, home and the natural environment of the village.
Using the basic elements of geometry does not make an abstract-geometric artist; what matters is if the artist shows sensitivity to abstraction. I have had personal experience from an early age. As a young child, I could all day study the movement of animals, the structure of insects. In an artistic point of view, it was at the same time cubist, geometric and kinetic. I was searching for glittering crystals, metallic leaks on stones and pebbles found in the quarry or at the Tisza bank. I watched the fine veins on tree leaves until I saw the tree and the structure of the tree in its leaf, I would say, a drop in the ocean.
Once I realised the transitoriness of life. I did not see my favourite old woman sitting on the bench since she had died. I was inconsolable for days, I hid and cried – ‘Why were we born when we have to die?’ I sobbed. My elder sister noticed it one evening and took me out to the garden. She pointed to the sky: ‘Can you see those bright points? The woman who you loved so much is not dead; her soul twinkles as a star from above and we also get there one day.’ From that moment I watched the sky almost every night. The space and structure of stars and galaxies I observed made me feel the astonishing notion of infinity. In my thoughts I skipped away on them, as if they were steps, farther and farther – until the unknown infinite space absorbed me.
Later I wrote down that the world is actually different from what we see, hear or experience, and that we only sense what is possible to perceive with our own physical senses and some ‘auxiliary’ sensors. There exists, then, a reality beyond our senses, the discovery of which is not only the task of scientists and inventors, but also the vocation of an artist. This ars poetica or guiding principle is my inspiration in my career.

– Sensitivity towards abstraction developed in you very early. The ability of abstract thought, the love of mathematics and your achievements in this area could have led you to pure mathematics, you could have become a mathematician… Why didn’t it happen?

– I did want to become a mathematician. However, during my secondary school years an incurable disease of the eye limited the outside world for me, so I programmed myself to deal with visual art. Today the two areas met and I am invited to many scientific and artistic conferences.
School meant learning and the home of gaining know-ledge. I turned to science subjects with a lot of interest, since I wanted an answer to the wonders of creation. I could not have enough of mathematics: apart from the compulsory material, I threw myself into solving more and more complicated problems. In the problems I discovered the logic found in nature too, that is, that the solution of a more difficult problem is hidden in an easier one. If we start from elementary arithmetic, let’s say 1×1, and go on step by step, even the most complicated mathematical problem becomes 1×1.
My first encounter with molecular structures and models of the atom, through which I tried to understand solar systems and galaxies made me conclude that atoms can also be stars. It was such a great discovery for me! It must be so with all children, when they realise that the smallest is at the same time the biggest – microcosm is simultaneously macrocosm. I connected it to other discoveries and a world view evolved in me, which I later called Poly-universe.

– Let us go back to the austere family background. How could your parents exert influence on you and help you in your artistic career? You lived in a small village far from everything, I suppose, there were no works of art around you, you could not go to the theatre, art galleries or concerts as intellectual families usually do in cities.

– I simply liked drawing and painting. I could not only practise it in class, but I also went to extra lessons. I took part in competitions, and won prizes, although I did not enjoy making life-like copies of nature. As a matter of fact, my interest in art was really based by my mother and sisters. My mother was a prize-winning embroiderer. With some other women she used to make fantastic abstract-geometric, ‘Rákóczi’ cross-stitch star-patterned tablecloths (see page 26). When I was about five, I asked her for a small piece of fabric and embroidered my first tablecloth, which I still have. Later I often helped the women in the family with embroidery. I particularly liked counting the thread in the unbelievably complicated designs. I did woodwork together with my father, who was a jack-of-all-trades. He inherited a lot of strange tools from my grandfather, who I did not know. My father still works with them.
My mother was the pivot of the family – she did her best to help us study and get on in life. All her life she wanted to create something in a world where there were only the hands of men between heaven and earth. We lost her very early. I dedicated a triptych called ‘CrossEye’ to her memory, the pieces of which belong to her three children, thus representing physical-spiritual-mental unity and transformation.

– How did literature or music influenced you at that time? Did you have any contact with the outside world besides school?

– I would mention a book I read when I was ten. It was The Royal Game by Stefan Zweig, which my sisters had in their student library. I was deeply impressed by the capacity of the human brain and new vistas opened up before me in the acquisition of knowledge.
I was about five when my parents decided to buy a TV set for the education of their children. It was the first television in the street. It cost the price of a cow, which was nearly a year’s income at that time. It was a good decision, because I could get acquainted with science, films and classical culture. The TV also meant social life, because several times a week people from the street would get together and watch the series and films.
Once my sisters got a portable radio. The greatest bene-fit of it was that I did not have to switch it off but could take it to the farthest corner of the garden, when my parents had enough of classical music. There I could listen to the pieces I liked and learnt the name of the composer too. The name most often mentioned was Béla Bartók. I realised where I belong. Later I had a record player and I could listen to these pieces again and again until I could ‘play’ them in my head. After some time I knew them from the beginning to the end so I could accelerate them until the message of the music condensed in one point.
This was how I created my Abstract Musical Project very early. The smallest units of a piece are its sounds, all symbolised by a single note. These sounds are embedded into the flow of time in a certain rhythm by the composer. That is how music is shaped in space and time. If I deprive the piece of one of its dimensions, placing it into a continuous time press, sooner or later I get to a stage where I have condensed its time dimension into just one point of time, which means that all notes will be sounded simultaneously on the appropriate instruments, and the work, although it retains its content, will collapse, the sounds falling onto the given moment will interfere in space, and TIME will wail painfully.

– TIME can be condensed in one point in the form of a piece of music then. What other important aspects does the point have?

– When I was a teenager, point puzzled me most, since the definition that the point is actually an entity without extension, the tiniest unit – an axiom in the mathematical sense – did not satisfy me. Surely, this infinitesimal point of no extension, a paradox of dimensional statuses, constitutes lines, planes and space, our physical world, and even our infinitely large universe. The point bears all dimensions in its sense and remembers them: either being the section of the straight line, or a micro-plane element of planes, as well as the basic particle of space. In fact, it is the border of the white hole and black hole where all the space-time dimensions of the given dimension structure will collapse.
For me until now the greatest secret is hidden in the point, since the point is at the same time the beginning and the end, the smallest and the biggest unit. I am trying to get to the core of the problem in my early study called ‘The power of the Point, or making the space and time more exact’, which was published by Shadow Weavers.
The dilemma about the point impressed me both mentally and physically. I wanted to see the smallest particles with the naked eye, to be able to get a visual insight into the world of atoms. I was frustrated by knowing that everything around me has hollows, matter has an infinite number of particles rustling in it but I cannot see them. It is not the question of technological advance or availability but physical limits. As a matter of fact, we cannot see smaller elements than the structure or the molecules of our eyes. Going beyond the physical limits, I created my own mental sense-aid, ‘Atomic Eye’, with a composition one scale finer. The material world disintegrated in front of me and I started to feel atomic clouds of different density around me for years.

– With this background and serious thoughts, you took excellent places at several mathematics competitions and gained admission to the best secondary school in the region. In the first year your art teacher took notice of you at a youth competition and took you to a Constructivist summer school, where you worked in the class of sculptor Tibor Csiky and painter János Fajó.

– I was sculpting by day and painting by night. Sometimes for three days without stopping until I tumbled down. I was pushing the envelope of my physical capacity. Although the body needed a rest, the mind wanted to soar and could throw off the shackles of the body. I acquired the form of expression of geometric art in this summer school from my mentors and these years established my devotion to the career of an artist. Since I could not find the secret of the point in mathematics, I turned my attention to art. During the course I made my first graphic work of art called ‘Universe’. The picture demonstrates the possible permutations of halving the diagonals of the square. This work contained all the previous observations and knowledge and gives you the pure feeling of the Universe. Then I did not think how important this work, which did not really fit into the works made there, would be in the future. I returned to that school every summer for years and created Constructivist, Formalist works there, due to the effects the course had on me. After a while, finding and using geometric shapes and colours in my compositions became a routine and took place on the surface. Like copying nature, it could not really hold my attention any more.

– It may have been the reason why you had left the summer school by the middle of the ’80s and started to ‘rebel’ against forms. A tribute to film director Gábor Bódy called ‘Dog’s Night Song’, a self-portrait called ‘Counting his Toes’, ‘Music’ in remembrance of Béla Bartók or ‘Yellow point’ about a dog which was run over and many others are the products of that period. I wonder why and how you were using cadmium yellow exclusively for a decade.

– It was not easy to break off with the influence of my masters and find my personal style. However, I had a smouldering feeling about my first picture, ‘Universe’ 1979 (see page 17) – I was interested in deeper relationships, the structure, the principles of operation of the Universe and the ways of depicting it by means of art. This is how I created ‘Structure’ 1984-1988, which I had been constructing for five years within myself, and the Star series 1984, which concentrates on the relationship and unity of immense and infinitesimal.
I closed my first, Constructivist period indeed. After an impetuous decision I destroyed all my works done before, except one. Later I recalled and painted them again but these works were lost on an exhibition abroad.
My first surrealistic abstraction, ‘Dog’s Night Song’ was a courageous step on the path of rebellion and split, followed by other steps. These pictures were beyond the physical world, since they were not constructions but spiritual and mental projections. I called this period ‘sensual abstractions’.
The last picture in this period was a white cross embedded in a disintegrating yellow circle, called ‘Cross’ 1990. This work, the contrast between yellow and white, the mystery of being and non-being, the transcendental meaning of the form calmed me down. I used these two colours in the ’90s, because to me the yellow colour in relation to white reflects the sensations of being and non-being, something and nothing, in a more vivid contrast than, say, black and white would do.

– All these works of art led you to a moment of decision: to open the tin you had closed in your adolescent years and to reveal your hidden treasures for the world, to show your theoretical and philosophical system through your works. Dealing with the Universe you discovered Poly-universe. What is the difference between the two notions?

– Since earliest times, mankind has been interested in learning about the surrounding world, understanding its operation and structure. In my opinion, evolution is repeated mentally in the development of the individual, therefore the most important part in every child’s intellectual development is to explore and understand the Universe in its narrower and wider sense. I consider the classical, materialist concept – unity of infinite concatenation of the matter in time and space – a rough approach.
In a philosophical sense, I attained ‘Poly-universe’ by contemplating an infinite ‘poly-dimensional point’. Looking at a point drawn on a paper through a magnifier, it will seem to be a plane with a fragmentary surface. I went on with the idea and asked: whether we can consider the atomic particle a point compared to the globe, the globe in turn compared to the Milky Way, the Milky Way compared to the immeasurable worlds built up of sets of Galaxies, or, to take a more tangible example, the (inseminated) ovum compared to a human being. Should this agreement be reached, we could define the point as a multidimensional phenomenon, as the space-time condensation of all dimensions and dimension structures. The point, indeed, is the impression of worlds on various scales, the world of worlds.
Having studied ‘0’ dimension, I discovered the ‘poly-dimensional line’ All of us have probably observed already that the trunk of a tree branches in two or three directions, the thicker branches in turn divide into boughs of smaller circumference, down to the thinnest twigs at the end of which we can find the leaves. If we continue our observation, we may see that the capillary vessels within the leaves reflect the image of a small tree. Taking our contemplation even further, we might conclude that the divisions of our own body resemble those of the tree – the limbs (boughs) extending from the trunk end in fingers (twigs). Moreover, the network of veins in our bodies (or, for that matter, the network of fountains, streams and rivers all over the earth) is characterised by the same divisions.
Of course, the divisibility of trees does not stop at the level of their capillary vessels; it carries on in the flow of molecular and atomic particles: the vital energy itself is radiated to the leaves straight from the star called Sun in the form of light. This is how the smallest and the largest perceptible are connected: the worlds of atoms and stars in relation to a tree – and, evidently, in relation to us, too.
POLY-UNIVERSE, revealed by me, is at the same time a MULTITUDE and a ONE, that is, the ONE has MANY kinds of dimensions, and this DIVERSITY concentrates in the ONE.

– The works you created by means of the form of expression of geometric art convey a philosophical message with vigorous visual elements. I would like to hear about the pure artistic aspect of what you have said. You must have increased the tension to breaking point there.

– After the poly-dimensional point and the poly-dimensional line I arrived at the creation of poly-dimensional plane-structures. We can admit that if we place geometrical elements of varying size or proportion, but of similar form, on a sheet of paper, our eyes will perceive the connections between large, small and even smaller elements in perspective. If, however, we connect and combine the same forms, perspective ceases to be effective, and we arrive at new structures constituted by the different forms attached to one another.
Later I called these plane structures functioning on the principle of scale-shifting symmetry poly-dimensional fields. Since the beginning of the ’90s I have made dozens of free-shaped panel paintings in oil: Fight, Micro-Macro, Dimension Gates and Keys, Meditative Structures, Planar Eclipse, Dimension Steps, Dimension Condensation, Immaterial Transit, Dimension Aerials, Spaces etc. I always give the names to my paintings after the process of creation.
It was art historian Géza Perneczky who first discovered in the middle of the 1990s that my works of art were fractals by nature, and he devoted a book to the presentation of this revelation. During the fifteen years of artistic work, isolated from the world, living in my inward solitude I had not had the faintest idea about this. That was why I could establish my own specific way of expression and world of images in this area.
The experience of spaces, the need for losing the material world and the artistic expression of transfiguration can be discovered in my sculptures too. As an example, I would mention ‘Space snakes’, which are based on the principle of dimension condensation, also used in my painting. At one exhibition they broke out of the gallery and covered the streets of the town in a length of 150 metres. Other examples are one of my main works, ‘Dimension Chess’ 1988 and the connecting ‘Footless Chair’. Creating a relative sense of space between the dimension structures I made my first moves on the squares of Dimension Chess, in real space with real figures. After the completion of Dimension Chess, sitting down on the dimension stool of sixteen or sixty-four or even two hundred and fifty-six legs, I soon realised that this game is not a battle between two players; the chessboard in front of me is a poly-dimensional field, which is the horizontal projection of the vertical texture of micro- and macro-worlds. I myself am one of the figures lined up on it, and I can move as I please – with each move, we dispose of the parameters of the previous world – within the Poly-Universe opened up by the vertically linked spaces.
In the real world, all of us make two such painful moves in our own lives. The first one when, starting from an ovum, we are generated into human beings in the bio-mass (a process somewhat like the creation of the world, perhaps), and the second one at the end of our earthly life, when we rise back into the subtle regions of the spirit.

– While painting ‘Immaterial Transit’, you nearly disappeared. Physically you were very weak, but mentally very intensive. Your transition into ‘the other dimension’ was a real danger. Jesuit priest, scientist and philosopher Teilhard de Chardin distinguishes between two material zones: one is the zone of materially or physically perceived material, where we cannot stay without sliding back. The other is the spiritually perceived zone offering opportunities of progress, exploration and filling with God. The border between the two is relative and altering…

– The essence of ‘Immaterial Transit’ relates to these thoughts. On the other hand, it gives you the feeling, possibility and experience of passing through the infinite material zone. No wonder it took me long years of agony to complete it, and as a consequence, I nearly lost my physical state. I summarised this artistic process in an earlier writing as follows:
This complete transfiguration, this absolutely transparent state, I could only model in painting by using elements which even in themselves represent the supremacy of pure sensation. Thus two basic suprematist elements, the square, and the cross formed by division of the square into four parts, have served as points of departure. In this case, the square bears a yellow colour symbolising existence, whereas its opposite, the cross is characterised by a white tone that creates an impression of emptiness.
During the construction of the picture, i. e. the deconstruction of the yellow square, I came to sense total depletion, or, more precisely, to set up a polydimensional net. The net that connects micro- and macro-worlds, is the virtualisation of an absolute mind which, stretched in infinite dimension structures as a hyper-filter, incessantly attempts to jettison the imperfect objects (yellow squares) of existence from its ‘body’.

– The reason you experienced the process of immaterialization in a physical and spiritual sense was that, being a worthy follower of Kassák, most of your energy was dissipated by setting up two artistic movements, ‘Shadow Weavers’, the media art creative group and MADI, the free-form geometric art movement, as well as trying to accomplish your own creative work and make ends meet. You established foundations, assisted in an association, founded a museum, organised hundreds of exhibitions and festivals, edited art magazines and published dozens of issues. The endless list of your activities for the public and universal culture shows signs of poly-universality. Where did you get your energy?

– The source of energy was an optimistic vision of the future rooted in the past. At the same time I believed in objectivity. However, I did not have the opportunity to comfortably cross the bridge of snobbery. I follow the steps of my ancestors, and with an avant-garde spirit, I balance on piles which I lay myself, trying to take art from the other side. For twenty years I have placed my life on the altar of public art. I have not considered things, I have not saved my energy, I have constantly taken the risk. Without much financial support, I have undertaken nonconformity, and from the morsels available to us, I and my friends have built intellectual spaces and meeting points in the world. Looking back, I feel it was the right decision, since I could remain an independent individual writing my own script. I hope that the ‘unbearable hardness of existence’ will continue to be easy for me and I will be able to devote my intellectual and spiritual energy to make our physical world happier.

– At the last moment you won a scholarship in 2000. During the six months you spent in the Espace de l’Art Concret in France you worked in the decent ambience of a studio, in financial security. Colours and experiments with forms appeared in your works. You came up with new ideas, systematized, wrote a book on methodology called ‘Dimension Crayon’, and taught children. You created in one of the citadels of concrete art. In the meantime you organized events of the international MADI movement in Central-Eastern Europe. What exactly is the difference bet-ween concrete art and MADI, and where is your place?

– For me the most important feature of MADI is polygonality, which renewed my art. In the ’80s I painted my poly-dimensional plane structures on a square-shaped canvas. The structures aimed for the infinite, but got trapped in the square, and ‘wailed painfully’. Although Lajos Kassák’s Bild-architektur (visual architecture) theoretically bears the possibility of free-shaped geometry, in the objective aspects these pictures stay within the square form. Early Russian Constructivist artists, such as Tatlin, El Lisicki or the Hungarian László Péri created the free form in art. We also find free forms in the studios of later Constructivist artists, but they were mainly made under the influence of the North American ‘Shaped Canvas’ movement (1960s), appearing after the South-American ‘MADI’ movement (1940s). Most art historians and artists prefer not to mention the priority of MADI and the nearly twenty years between the two movements. All in all, for me MADI has been the determining one. While aiming for the infinite through its polygonality, it created the free-form object painting in geometric art both theoretically and practically, which helped me make my ‘Poly-dimensional Fields’ from the beginning of the ’90s.
I consider Carmelo Arden Quin, founder of MADI, my master; there was personal contact between us. I could always find a home in his house in Savigny-sur-Orge near Paris. He lived a simple life and never promoted MADI or himself; he did not want it to be overworked. Nevertheless, MADI is developing and changing in a dynamic way even today, so it is not at all a closed era for the history of art. I think the most important message of MADI lies in its principles and philosophy, which can throw both creator and receiver off their routine even after nearly seventy years. These principles are only condensed into good works of art, and are available for any part of the world in any age. Works of art, then, have significance beyond the creator, the artistic groups, beyond the history of art, that is, they have no limits.

– You were the inventor of the concept and one of the main organizers and directors of ‘supreMADIsm’ festival in Moscow in 2006. You have strong ties with the world of Kazimir Malevich. Why?

– The ‘supreMADIsm’ festival in Moscow was one of the most important events of international art in 2006. This journey in time connected past and present, east and west, and the experience shared there was definitely imprinted on the pages of art history. I will never forget feeling as if I had shaken hands physically with the avant-garde artists of the 1920s, Malevich, Rodchenko, Tatlin, El Lisicki…
At the beginning of my career Kazimir Malevich had the greatest effect on me, I consider him my master in a spiritual sense. He created the pure sensation of art with his ‘world without objects’. In other words, he urged the primacy of pure sensation, and he still encourages us to experience it in any area of life, including religion. By the beginning of the ’90s the square as a basic suprematist element had become the main component of my art. For ten years I only painted squares, or other object forms originating from it.

– By the way, let us talk about faith. According to Teilhard de Chardin, cross means removal from sensual world, invites to rise and go beyond the last stage, the critical point where the ground of the perceptible reality slips from under our feet. You talked about the perceptible world; what does cross as sacred form mean to you?

– A few years ago I took part in an exhibition called ‘Sacra Geometria’ in Budapest. Last year I was invited to the conference: ‘Sacred Art’ and the connecting individual exhibition ‘Sacred Geometry’ in Pécs.
In the first case the organizers wanted to open up the possibility of sacredness of geometry, whereas in the second event my dream came true – I had the opportunity for spiritual, mental and artistic manifestation. Artistic work skims the moment of Creation, so I think the works of art should convey God’s love, harmony, beauty and purity. I have always lived through the moment of creation as a meeting with God, therefore my works are the impressions of this meeting. On the other hand, I would define my role as mediator, the monk of art.
The question arises: how can my geometric, Constructivist, concrete and MADI objects be transcendent, mystic or even sacred? Or the other way round, can God be the greatest reality? According to some art historians, geometric art and the particular works made in that way contradict sacredness. Perhaps because they are too real, too physical, too scientific etc. However, the black square, the cross and the fluttered forms of the deeply religious and mystic Kazimir Malevich can make sceptics uncertain.
The other suprematist element, the cross in my art appeared a bit earlier than Malevich’s influence, since I did not know his art when working on my first pictures. When creating ‘Immaterial Transit’, I did, and obviously, on the objects of my series ‘supreMADIsm’ poly-dimensional Malevich crosses are forcing the black squares apart with boundless energy. I often find that a child’s ingenuity outshines the creator himself. One day there were children in my studio and they started counting the elements of the poly-dimensional cross in the picture ‘Immaterial Transit’. I had never had this idea before. The result was 44. In that year I was 44 years old, actually.
I have never based my work on theological or scientific principles, but on a testimony coming from the microcosm, the individual inner mental necessity of the creative mind as a person with a true vocation. For me art is not handicraft, not a skill or an occupation, nor a profession based on some knowledge. It is vocation deriving from being affected, which is definitely not a personal merit.

– The name ‘Poly-universe’ does not only refer to a painting module, but also to a toy, a knowledge produce, a tool for developing skills, a source of joy. What made you create a toy besides the paintings?

– As an artist, I have done similar research to that of a scientist – I want to explore unknown territories of reality for mankind. In my creative work I have gained knowledge about the basic principles of the Universe and I manifested it in my geometric works. Wandering in the Poly-universe, besides making pictures and sculptures, I started to feel the urge to give a playful form to the findings of my artistic research and share it with children and adults alike.
I first dealt with playful pictures in the Espace de l’Art Concret, founded by Gottfried Honegger in France. My hosts asked me to join Atelier Pédagogique and convey my method to children. At that time I did not have the faintest idea how to involve them in the creative process.
I systematized my painting method and did experiments with form, intuitively following the laws of the basic forms. In this way, formally free polygonal geometric constructions emerged, poly-dimensional fields pulsating between micro- and macrocosms. From time to time I left didactics behind, I changed the structure, contracted and condensed without harming the core.
I realised that the system will construct itself, provided that I approach it with appropriate sensitivity. I could consider the problem solved once all my questions had been answered satisfactorily during the visual dialogue. This was the point where the work of art in its physical reality became complete.
During the play of forms, however, the squares, triangles and circles led to minimal-art elements which alone did not fulfil the criteria of a piece of art. But if I took two of these elements, and attached them by various points of connection, I had at least a dozen of ‘playful images’. Then I saw that these images would remain open in the physical sense of the word, too, as I could continue the construction using more compositional elements. Infinitely complex strings of images unfolded before my eyes.
This was how playful elements of Poly-universe were created, which I improved in the last decade until I got the final version. When dealing with the different-scale basic geometric shapes and primary colours, the children gain experience, discover and see the correlations, linkage points and shape connections, the sharp borderlines between colours, not knowing that they are learning. They can explore ‘POLY-UNIVERSE’, the realms of mathematics, art and philosophy wandering in them engrossed, without being aware where they are.

– You often take part in exhibitions both in Europe and overseas, but not so often in Hungary. To stay or to leave?

– It was nearly thirty years ago that the disease of my eyes limited the outer physical world in front of me. Since then I have been living and creating in my inner solitude, my microcosm. I have never cared about career development techniques nor success. I only want to multiply my talents. It is only possible by taking off the ‘ego’, by throwing yourself on God, through vocation. On the surface there is the hustle and bustle of life – the essence is hidden somewhere deeper. My answer is to stay whatever the cost, in the innocent purity of our selves.

Zsuzsa Dárdai
Szokolya, 15 October 2010
(Translated by Éva Lachegyi)