Medium Model
According to Friedensreich Hundertwasser, one of the contemporary masters of organic architecture, the human being’s ‘extension’ does not end at the skin. Clothing, the room, the house, the country, the stratosphere, our planet, and so on may all be understood as layers of skin. Antoni Gaudí and Imre Makovecz, observing the movement of air around trees, developed architectural articulations of the ‘vault drive’ in which tree-like supporting pillars appear: arches reminiscent of branching boughs bear the weight of the superstructure. Such holistic modes of thought also generate the cosmic symphony of the continuously expanding universe of the visual arts, of which contemporary Hungarian art forms one distinct theme. Our artists perform this symphony on different instruments and in different keys, thereby simultaneously articulating the principal theme of Hungarianness. For harmony to emerge, one must be familiar with the vertical and horizontal dimensions of voices and movements alike, since our culture and traditions manifest themselves on multiple levels of reality. Recognising the free, space–time-filling, sinusoidal nature of this multifaceted composition, and presenting the meanings distilled through different interpretative methods, allows the examination of a single artist to penetrate into his life, his thoughts, and the private terrain of his mind. Beyond a certain level, the artist, philosopher, or scientist – or the ‘singular’ individual – no longer merely solves problems: his entire oeuvre, his life, and his very being begin to function as a model of reality. Such a ‘singular’ figure, capable of intuitively grasping and comparatively apprehending the elementary phenomena of the visible world, and of cultivating their effects through art, is the model for the present portrait of a literatus: István Kulinyi. His lifelong aspiration towards a form of absolute hearing ensured the originality of his propositions and the precision of both comprehension and transmission, thereby enabling the fulfilment of the crucial task of safeguarding values. When he first entered the Hungarian College of Applied Arts, he was immediately struck by the diversity of its specialisations: in one department students were hammering away in the goldsmiths’ workshop; in another they were making sculpture; elsewhere houses were being designed; in the next room weaving and sewing were under way. He thus instantly acquired a comprehensive vision of the visual and manual arts, which became inseparable from his own formation. Through all this he grew up – and continues to work – within a Bauhaus-inflected mindset. For a cosmopolitan artist takes into account even such seemingly simple phenomena as the fusion of tradition and practicality (upon entering a church, the energy-saving light bulbs form part of the minimum of thirty visual-artistic details that immediately present themselves). Through the creativity of model-making and an approximative attunement to the whole, understanding in Kulinyi’s case arises primarily from the realm of emotion. By the time he reached maturity, the universal extension of systematic organisation had become his principal measure. The horizon of meaning in his works is always unconfined. His creations – aesthetically charged, endowed with a strong sense of beauty, consistently bearing surplus meaning, and polyphonic even in their function – come into being through the dissolution of the harmonic closures between inner and outer worlds.
Eye
“The eye is the mirror of life, not only of the soul. The whole of life is concentrated, reflected, and shaped within this marvellous little apparatus: the world with all its beings, facts, atoms, tremors, colours, and horizons…” (Kulinyi, at the exhibition Szemtől szembe [lit. Eye to Eye], Mono Gallery, 2009 – works selected from, and created out of, a multitude of animal eyes.) A recently published book of his, written in a spirit of reckoning, signals the close of an epoch and the marking out of new paths. In this creed-like collection – dense with images, memories, texts, and ideas, and even supplemented by a poem – he arrives at a self-definition: “eye”. An eye of the world. A creative being endowed with eyes of visual sensitivity and an abundance of information. A person who sees, who understands through seeing, and who conveys what is seen. This is not mere self-assertion born of confidence, for in the idiom of old Hungarian thought a “person” could only be one who grasped the causes of the processes at work both around him and within him, who was capable of reflecting on them, and who, in fulfilling the tasks assigned by destiny, could bring under control the nature of the forces thereby released. István Kulinyi, an experimental, many-sided figure, answers this calling by surveying his environment, his age, and the processes unfolding within artistic life with a probing gaze, and by attempting to exert a beneficent influence wherever he is able. A many-layered being, his universal receptivity within the arts ranges across the broad spectrum of the visual: he works in graphic design; in the design of scenery, objects, and installations; in photography; in teaching; and in writing. He traces his comprehensive, cosmic outlook back to Bartók. Bartók’s foundational ideas, expressed through music – the manner in which feelings and experiences are given voice – can bring nearer even the alien atmosphere of the cold, distant, star-filled sky, rendering it more intimate, more hospitable, and more intelligible. For Kulinyi, Bartók’s music is an artistic measure: a genius that opens space not only within the realm of sounds and melodies, but also serves, amid the many contingencies of life, as a signal light, a spiritual and moral maximum. This is how Kulinyi recalls one of the decisive masters of his fate. That formative experience accompanies him everywhere as a faithful companion and continues to shape a character that is at once tradition-conscious and modern, capable of combining modes of behaviour and ways of seeing. His timeless outlook does not place him in the vanguard of this or that tendency; rather, he is marked by a strong pedagogical and cultivational intent. For him, art serves the labour of cultivation itself – always allied with an untiring social sensitivity – and constitutes the only power capable of transcending problems. His creative activity is ‘subordinated’ to these categorical imperatives. “A glance, the sudden flare of light in an eye, signifies life: the miracle; the mystery of seeing, perceiving, and coming-to-consciousness; the window upon our outer and inner worlds; the possibility of perceiving one another; the possibility of a shared life flowing on without end.” (Kulinyi, 2009) It is striking, however, that the eye – considered in purely biological terms – cannot see through even the sheet of paper placed before it. The ear, by contrast, ‘crosses’ that barrier, skirts it, and thus ranges more widely. When we speak to someone on the telephone, for example, we form an image of a person we have never seen: from the voice we ‘sound them out’, sketching their contours with the inner eye. The ensemble of the senses guides the human being more reliably through the domains of reality. A further danger lies in the fact that the eye sees from a single perspective only. The whole, the totality, can be apprehended only in accordance with one’s gifts. At this point the discipline of inner vision becomes indispensable, for it projects a wider angle of view; so too does art’s capacity to convey, which opens a further standpoint. Together, the two make it possible for all external and internal perspectives to flash forth and to be presented at once. Following Kodály, one might call this ‘musical vision’: a mode of seeing that encircles reality and, through its ‘sounding mathematics’, renders the intelligible world in the form of formulae. According to this other Hungarian composer, whom Kulinyi also holds in high esteem, music possesses an exceptionally powerful capacity to form character; once acquired, it makes the process of learning – whatever the subject – far easier. János Pilinszky, in his work Szög és olaj (lit. Nail and Oil), writes: “In contrast to the partial truths of the sciences, proven step by step, art is a vocation concerned with the unprovable whole. Every art is a model of the world: a report on the ‘whole’. Yet because it is unprovable, it is no less real. Whereas scientific truth is determined from moment to moment, step by step, by logic, art is the fruit of choice: sentence by sentence, brushstroke by brushstroke, chisel-stroke by chisel-stroke. The breath of the universe.” The ‘eye effect’, then – seeing itself – signifies a form of schooling. Through his studies, too, István Kulinyi learned to look well: he learned to see, to interpret, to create vision. He acquired the capacity for sight to become experience. Hence his affinity with the Renaissance ideal and practice of striving for perfection. His intellectual operations function as a cultural stimulus and cohesive force placed among the unknowns of the formulae of the unprovable whole. The sources of inspiration in his work are autonomous agents rooted in his own nature: a vocation embraced wholeheartedly. The acoustic, virtual synaesthesias arising from his finely patterned soul revive the culture of the polymath. He ‘sees with his ears’ and ‘hears with his eyes’. The eye becomes the totality of expressive means: gesture of the hand, brushstroke, the work of making.
Art as a Medium-Creating Entity
The medium understood as cultivation, education, cultural cohesion, and social function – the collective term for human exchange – is, in the case of art, constituted by the receptive milieu and its conditions, and constitutes a central concern throughout the life of István Kulinyi. He speaks openly and candidly about the deficiencies of this medium, which is both salutary and deeply sympathetic, for where thoughts cannot be communicated, no medium exists. The problem of the displacement and dilution of genuine values can be addressed, above all, through the courage to acknowledge this condition, rather than by pretending it does not exist. In his view, the thinned-out content of contemporary communication obstructs the possibility of fruitful human connection. In many conversations, what truly matters never surfaces; as a result, what we do often lacks a proper milieu. These are human and social problems. Even in professional encounters – despite apparent similarities of sequence or agenda – no real connection is established. There is never enough time, and, as he puts it, we are excessively subjective, insufficiently educated, ill-prepared. The task of education and of art is to awaken attention, to cultivate the capacity for wonder, and to prepare the desire for an encounter with what is higher. For this, the creation of a medium is indispensable, for it is only within such a space that a higher motivating force can be born and brought to fruition. Where this fails, we are confronted with difficulties of expression, communication, and presentation, which manifest on several levels: first and foremost money, then demand, community, human indifference, the absence of relationships, lack of time, limited means, and so forth. If someone takes their work seriously and seeks to articulate deeper thoughts, they are often left alone. If they exhibit, they encounter very few people at the opening. There is no dialogue. There is no critical culture. No one asks why a work exists, why it came into being, why it appeals or fails to appeal. Open dialogue, the direct exchange and formation of opinions, is largely absent – though there would be a need for it. Even a simple remark such as “this does not speak to me” would suffice to initiate a conversation. One could imagine exhibitions in which members of the audience themselves articulate why something resonates with them. Instead, the works hang on the walls, waiting, while people stand with their backs to them, talking among themselves. The audience does not enter into dialogue with the creator. There is no catharsis. Often there is not even an opportunity for presentation; and when there is, the artist and the work still fail to find their proper place. This, regrettably, is common. In writing, authors once offered extended descriptions; today, there is little patience for long novels. Or consider the parent–child relationship: there is affection, but everyone speaks at once, each delivering their own monologue. There is always something obligatory to be ‘ticked off’. Templates and protocols permeate countless segments of life, accompanied by violence, brutality, and an ever-growing egoism. In the artistic field, the creator is formally free to do as they wish, yet paradoxically this freedom often results in their work not being taken seriously by others. We attend to one another only where we perceive sameness.
It is healthy for a human being to unfold what lies within, and for the artist not to produce works merely for drawers, shelves, or rooms. Creation is a social matter. Self-realisation should not be an agonistic pastime – an outward display in which the ego merely embroiders itself – but rather a path each person walks within themselves and which nonetheless entails, in every sense, an empathetic solidarity of destiny that is felt towards the outer world and enacted within the community. In his understanding, the rank and seriousness of art – and thus the very existence of its medium – are determined by what a person is willing to undertake as a social responsibility. Even the autonomous individual must be able to see that it is worth acting for the community; one ought to labour for an ideal type of human being and an ideal society. Of course, one may become entangled in emotional states, may receive sobering lessons that press self-knowledge upon one and at times cast even one’s existence into doubt. It is extraordinarily difficult not to identify with this world, for it is the medium into which we have been born. Yet how, then, to go on? Well-being must be defended by inner freedom and by faith; only then can one meet the influence of others – even their aggressiveness, their advantageous position, whatever it may be – with the right measure of humour and wisdom. One may remain calm and unviolated, yet still animated by an impulse to improve. In the street, in our daily comings and goings, how many faces and glances are empty, strained, desperate. If we are empathetic, if we love people and accept the givens of life, we should strive to be a good mirror for those around us: if they notice us, let them see hope, a distilled serenity, forward movement, creativity. Let this prompt them to form a better inner attitude, despite the blows of fate. Not to become dulled, not to tense up, but – if possible – to live a deep, sustained commitment. “When there are more and more unanswered things in the world, human relationships ought to grow stronger”, says Kulinyi; yet the roles imposed by social mechanisms continue to tear at these relationships. The cultural connections of communities, their permeability, falter. From the standpoint of the exchange of information, for example, content is filtered by excessive hierarchy and by divergent forms of social stratification; the capacity for transmission is snagged on social networks; and, in the endless labyrinths of behavioural patterns, attention to one another and understanding are lost. “This is my religion, that is my religion; I hold these political views; I belong to that social group, etc. We separate ourselves, while forgetting that, first and foremost, we are human beings.” Bertalan Andrásfalvy, the ethnographer and full member of the Hungarian Academy of Arts, proposes a remedy for a similar problem in his recently published book Jövőnk gyökerei (lit. The Roots of Our Future): “Folk tradition is the gate through which everyone may look into the garden of another people’s culture, since music and dance can be understood and admired even without the aid of a language that is difficult to acquire. Such encounters serve mutual understanding better than championship sports meetings, where the primary aim is not understanding but who defeats whom.” (Andrásfalvy, 2019) The greatest failing of contemporary society, he maintains, is the hollowing out and weakness of human relationships – with the natural environment, with one another, and with God. A healthy human being is sustained by love; love is the highest commandment, giving the subtle pattern to one’s actions. With this in mind, a partnership free of constraints, capable of dissolving the differences among modes of connection, could also lead us towards Andrásfalvy’s clear-toned propositions: the co-ordination of our social being would then display a crystalline structure; personhood and directness would be strengthened. In artistic life, even a simple, gesture-like attentiveness would contribute to this: that an eclectic ‘composite’ creator, a polymath, should not be presented in cultural programmes, media, or forums solely as the representative of one branch, but rather as a creative intelligence, with due regard for the multiple fronts of their creative activity, and named accordingly. This is self-evident: it is what a universal attitude presupposes. Just as a Heisenberg can write a philosophical book about physics, so a gifted artist can create value in more than one genre. For Kulinyi István, art alone offers a solution to the confused relations of interaction outlined above. In his case, the human tasks received, written into systems, and carried out as such, seek to move from formal conditions and appearances towards content; this characterises his use of tools, his shaping of form, his compositions, and the concordance of his play of colour, light, movement, and effect. Here his pedagogical, cultivational intention re-emerges, and he is quick to remark: “Content and form can be separated. Trouble begins when one violates the other. Harmony is what matters.” Culture is the mutual respect that strives from darkness towards light; a mystery brought to life; an inner ordering according to the intelligible laws of nature and of the surrounding world – ordo est anima rerum: “order, the soul of all things”. The consonant world of knowledge, love, and art creates a canon. This active, comprehensive, initiating idea is the measure of our life’s value – the recurring principal theme to which Kulinyi István returns again and again. In his art, Kant’s concept of beauty – “beautiful is that which pleases without interest” – neutralises the fractured structures through which concealed information acts upon communal dialogue. The empty glitter that follows from this, deceptive simulacra, impoverished intellectual projections disguised as art, divisive theories, rhetorical devices: these are not the object or quintessence of art. Its quintessence is only the conscientious, aesthetically ennobling true passion of enduring pietas and caritas, where knowledge and practical virtus are one and the same. A battered culture, even when it can no longer speak, understands the other in silence: “The astral world of peace shines there unchanged above our heads. So too does that of great art, which magnifies a people’s song into an imperishable treasure. What has been filtered through the souls of thousands and millions, from which every stain and luxurious superfluity is worn away in the use of generations – this is the artistic essence turned to crystal. Within it, the message of the heavens is transformed into human life, into ardent blood. And within it, life becomes a distilled principle, an eternal form. This is what we must make our own, and upon it build the great music.” (Boethius)
Pseudo-culture
Through his work, István Kulinyi’s fulfilment of a vatic, medium-shaping cultural role also reaches its full expression in the pacification of the unbridled effects of crude modernism. This is clearly observable in the works of the Parafrázisok (lit. Paraphrases) series, which “refer to the prostitution of beauty under the influence of a consumer society misled by the media – a society that objectifies everything, unleashes base instincts, strips all things bare, and is capable of defiling them. An ungrateful, or even murderous, posterity spares not human life alone, but is equally capable of brutally contaminating and destroying culture and the values of the past.” (Kulinyi, 1999–2018). In this sense, Kulinyi takes a firm stand against those practices that attribute aesthetic value to contrived banality and thereby generate distorted, mannered formations of kitsch and cliché, ‘incanting’ them into existence as allegedly legitimate branches or genres reconcilable with art. Today, the explicit imperative is to entertain the masses. Why? Because we speak past one another. This may be attributed to overexposure to information and to acceleration: we attend only to what appears immediately relevant to us. The aim is to move beyond problems as quickly as possible, to survive within a virtualised image of reality. We attempt to select among information streams without criticism. In this way, culture is reduced to the level of entertainment, where modes of thinking aligned with generalised norms favour light genres. Half-education and snobbery flourish, and have by now even entered the space of museums. With a cynical twist, many handle this phenomenon by simultaneously thumbing their noses at the wider public while gratifying the snobbish few. In truth, however, these are false and deceptive constructs – offered at unrealistically inflated prices. What once appeared as a requirement intrinsic to capitalism has by now become a social problem of serious consequence.
In these dimensions, István Kulinyi’s struggle is elevated into a grand parable of a cultivated sense of beauty grounded in originality, set against the perpetual contest of globalisation. Yet he does not oppose these processes head-on, nor does he seek to dominate them by force; instead, he responds with empathy and gentle shaping, thereby creating an atmosphere of trust throughout his exploratory journeys within cultural fields of force. His mild, compassion-filled approach to phenomena keeps his works within a human scale and contributes to the realisation of harmonious, productive interaction among individuals; above all, it fosters the formation and assumption of responsibility. The finely articulated patterns of the world revealed through artistic practice always function as reflective feedback on an era, a movement, a culture’s value system, its social habits, trends, and more. For this reason, alongside their inner creative labour – particularly when they are recognised figures – artists must also commit themselves to social engagement. Through their works, they are called upon to extend a helping hand to the individual and global processes of their time, above all to its problems. In Kulinyi István’s immediate environment, or in the contemplation of his works, this philanthropic impulse to act is palpable: a free flow of energy in which attention is directed towards what truly matters. Yet as we approach the values constituting the cultural minimum of human relations, we must remain aware that “the creation and presentation of sincerely lived, authentic feelings, actions, even works of art – just as, from another perspective, their approach and understanding – arising from deep human engagement, constitute a profoundly important and delicate emotional and intellectual matter.” (Kulinyi, 2018).
Light
Compassion, philanthropic devotion towards sentient beings, and a readiness to act occupy a central place in the life of István Kulinyi. His openness and receptivity enable him to observe and, through observation, to understand the phenomena unfolding in the world. He has also been a witness to crises on a global scale, each revealing something of human frailty. Thus, in 1999, when NATO began bombing Belgrade in the course of the Balkan conflict, the much-tried artist, guided by a pacifist disposition, devoted a series of works titled Parafrázisok to confronting the life-destroying, life-defiling forces of war. “The images bearing this date are built upon that shocking experience: the two evening bombings were terrifying. Within them are articulated the encounter of life and death, man and woman, violence set against beauty, the lethal eroticism of killing, and the clash between culture and blind, destructive forces.” (Kulinyi, 1999–2018). Within this series, alongside the Rubens and Correggio paraphrases bearing the title 1999.03.24:21, Kulinyi also developed a further meditation on the never-recovered work attributed to Leonardo, Léda és a hattyú (lit. Leda and the Swan), in his piece Enged Léda Aliennek? (lit. Does Leda Yield to the Alien?). The original painting has been lost, surviving only in contemporary reproductions. Drawing on Leonardo’s conceit, Kulinyi’s transfigured, “phototropic” metamorphosis adapts the swan to the aberrant phenomenon of war by replacing its head with that of an alien, even as the swan itself, in symbolic tradition, is the one animal that does not fear destruction and is said to die singing. The symbolism of the creature from the film Alien, later developed into a series, requires little explanation. The thematic constellation is well known: the perpetual casus belli, beauty and the beast, the Minotaur, and forms of bizarre anatomy. Yet even when these motifs are dismantled, Kulinyi’s art brut works do not present visceral horrors such as severed limbs or scenes of torture. Instead, they offer spectral illustrations articulated through a stylised aesthetic armature, in which evil appears as the absence of good, privatio boni, a principle consonant with Augustine’s thought and elevated into an intellectual register. This constitutes one of the Archimedean points of Kulinyi’s art, namely phototropy, the continual movement towards light. His endeavour lies in the transfiguration of evil, in a disciplined and tasteful visibility achieved through colour, and in the softening of horror’s edge through carefully orchestrated plays of light.
Poem and Film
In sketching the character of István Kulinyi and framing the countless meanings inherent in the phenomenon of milieu, a few further aspects must be emphasised. His mode of being, thinking, and practice cannot be detached from lived situations, since creative activity and the means of individual expression are always conditioned by the environment one is given. If conformity to expectations is examined also from a financial perspective, the individual voice is easily eroded. Yet the attainment of independence is essential for the emergence of an autonomous style, and in this respect Kulinyi has been fortunate. He is not obliged to live according to the principles of others, to think along prescribed lines, or to act mechanically in accordance with prevailing models of social organisation. This independence constitutes an important and genuinely affirming condition.
When he decided to embrace this vocation, it became clear that he possessed “a million drawers”, despite being ostensibly specialised in a particular field. What takes place in the domain of drawing or painting is entirely different from what occurs in that of sculpture; and within these, further domains open up in questions of colour, form, or space. These are complex, intricately interwoven connections. Today one can almost revel in the possibilities afforded by technology. “Life is mood”, he says. This is why he has remained, throughout, an experimental temperament: “the subject lies in the street, or even on the internet; a moment found by chance can open unexpected new paths and adventures, ones that a conservative spirit would not step onto. There are, of course, artists who do one thing all their lives. It is safe, it has its own logic. Especially if they also understand success.” (Kulinyi) Like many artists, he lives and works in solitude, following his own path and outlook, and does not wish to be classified within any school or movement. Admittedly, this independence has required him to undertake a considerable amount of applied work; yet he has sought commissions that do not erode his integrity but rather add to his knowledge and provide existential security. He belongs among those experimental artists whose constant restlessness, perpetual change, and drive for development lead them ceaselessly toward new beginnings, always renewing themselves and, as he believes, countering the rush of time with a youthful spirit. At the same time, he often returns to works created many years earlier, reworking and renewing them, revisiting them again and again in series transformed by new techniques, seeking to extract their fullest potential and thereby suspending time within a continuous process. By disposition he is open, and in this the digital medium offers tangible assistance, accelerating the work process, particularly through the rapid capture of ideas, where mobile photography and its instantaneous images play a decisive role. As he puts it: “One must strengthen one’s faith when, in processes of self-examination, one gives expression to one’s thoughts through any activity. One may find the path, and then assistance, experiences, guiding spirits, destiny follow in succession, and it is quite certain that one can be fulfilled, if, drawing strength from these, one orients one’s vision toward the good.”
The negative, chaotic, voracious forces cannot be allowed to prevail endlessly. This must be made perceptible; there must be signs of resistance.
And we have not yet spoken of the responsibility, or the moral dimension, of the artist and of the arts. “Even if the artist does not expect success,” Kulinyi writes, “he must nevertheless manifest himself positively and continuously through his life and work.” If one lives and acts, one should strive to integrate into the whole as a force for improvement. Naturally, to live and to carry this out day after day is not easy. István Kulinyi, for example, was by no means an untalented fencer, and during his secondary school years he sang extensively. He might have become a far better athlete, or a good singer. Poetry and prose always interested him and were constantly cultivated, and film was a persistent object of his longing. When he found himself at the College of Applied Arts, he realised that he would have to choose a single path. There would be no time left for fencing, singing, studying film direction, or for a host of other interests. Inwardly, however, he has continued all of these pursuits to this day, and who knows what might yet have come of them. He refers to this as the “Karinthy condition”: in youth, one could almost become anything, and youth itself is one of one’s talents. With his retrospective book, he also sought to render visible everything that had occupied him and all that his life had so far been able to contain. Fencing, for him, was also a form of self-expression. He fenced at the Hungarian championships on a Sunday, and on the following Monday he sat down in the entrance examination room of the College of Applied Arts, never again able to step onto the piste. The absence of sport from his life remains a source of frustration. He writes a great deal, increasingly so, without formal constraints, though he does not craft rhymes. In this way he searches for a new field of self-expression, one that accommodates his love of language and his desire to shape meaning through verbal imagery.
Approaching
Neither angel, nor virus, nor some cheap monster,
it already shimmers within the pixels of the screen, through slow mutations,
its unfolding forms stretched taut across the cramped veils of imagination,
it moves through the deeper strata of thought, a torso of fears and forebodings,
the never-before-seen, which at last must be summoned, drawn, composed,
it approaches from within if we wait outside, from without if we wait inside,
advancing irreversibly within us and around us,
moving with every bloodstream, attacking, warning, or bringing redemption,
it is, it was, it comes: the herald of new dimensions, the unknown, the approaching.
Can anything be more dangerous than the human being who wishes to dream while awake?
– István Kulinyi
Role Model
István Kulinyi’s demonstrative mode of thought often became apparent in our conversations. A telling example is his “photosynthesising” stratagem for dissolving and reconciling the tensions that arise between the world’s various unities. In his view, a non-specialist public expects certain familiar, accustomed things from art. A good artist, however, no longer wishes to serve this obsolete demand. Instead, they draw on nature and on contemporary scientific insights, and then, beyond these or through instinct, ask what in particular moods and feelings speaks to them, and what they, in turn, can do in relation to the urgent questions of the present and the future, questions that demand representation and response. The modern artist does not seek to copy nature, but to find a personal voice that is consonant with the way nature itself works. Attentive to this, Kulinyi searches, in his exploratory, noticing journeys, for something entirely his own, from which a new vision of the world can be brought into being. “The signs are always there”, he says, and the artist has an eye for them. In one’s immediate surroundings there are small visions that may be shaped and fixed. One of his favourite examples concerns works created through the inclusion of living processes, works that cooperate organically with nature. Thus, for instance, several bamboo canes are planted according to a certain system, and as they grow they are gradually intertwined towards a form. In the end, plant-built structures emerge. Here the artist entrusts the form and structure of the ‘building’ to the forces of nature. What is required is a “trained eye” that recognises the possibilities offered by the external world, and a capacity for demonstration that realises them. This fruitful symbiosis is evident in truly outstanding artists. When István Kulinyi begins to paint from a thought that is difficult to articulate in words, it is very often, as he puts it, “the picture that makes itself”, in accordance with the same principle by which the bamboo structures, with slight assistance, freely take shape. Compositional intentions are always exposed to circumstance: mood, toolkit, the ensemble of acquired techniques, material, colour, and the contingencies of process, such as one colour failing beside another, or paint drying more slowly than anticipated. Within a single outlook, innumerable factors are at work, determining and altering the outcome. When the “role” finds an object or surface that, in effect, corresponds to the reception the artist seeks to bring about by hand, it must be seized. Within this particular outlook, anyone may be an artist; yet without talent, what results functions like learnable computer software: technique and practical solution alone, without soul. One must also understand that an artist’s trajectory, learning, oeuvre, and personality, in a philosophical sense as well, constitute an unrepeatable work in themselves. For learning, transmission, and teaching, the decisive ground is always the pattern, the example, the authenticity. This is what makes the master a master, and it is in this sense that the master must live as a role model. Only if this succeeds can one speak of creating and sustaining a cultural medium. Through his works, István Kulinyi has found and fashioned his own medium, and his creations, in turn, act back upon the community in a harmonious way.