In the storm of events, the ship of salvation, now helpless, is art, and the self-taught artist is the captain, sometimes a distinguished castaway and sometimes an outcast of a self-sufficient current affair.

A dog barking or a bird singing amidst the noise, believing that its voice could cover the clamor of the world and give it rhythm and meaning.

And the more he realizes his weakness, either he despairs and remains silent forever (to the satisfaction of his unsympathetic friends) or continues to bark even louder, to sing sweeter, until he bursts.

His only possible reward, the fleeting comments of others regarding his case. Rarely a historical testimony, as he eagerly hopes. According to the whims of the merciless God.