Digital intervention based on graphic novel Quadrivium Motus, currently available only in Serbian.

On Struggles and Vulnerability

The world worships singularity: purpose, clarity, brand.

But the artist is bred in splitness.

He is a creature of tension, not conclusion.

A pulse between yes and no.

A shrine built in contradiction.

Edge walker - another name for artist.

The mind adapted to the dichotomy is not confused but awake.

It predicts, it creates. Survives.

It holds two truths and doesn’t collapse.

Friend becomes rival.

Muse becomes threat.

Love might become a cage.

It might.

And still, the artist returns. Returns to the canvas, the page, the stage.

Not to solve - but to stay inside the conflict long enough for meaning to emerge.

There is no redemption arc.

There is recursion.

Only contrasts.

Smells. 

So much sweat.

Lushing sex. Dirt. Dust.

Licking of vulnerable openings.

Holy friction where identity combusts.

The dual mind does not seek peace.

It seeks clarity within rupture.

It seeks the moment where opposites kiss. Then bite.

This isn’t a pathology.

It’s a method.

It’s how the artist moves.

Not forward. Not upward. But inward, into that dense, divine split that holds the realm.

Everlasting creative arouse.  Authenticity and performance.

Creation and collapse. Handwork. 

The mind of the artist doesn’t choose.

It contains.

Is it too much? Too strange? Will anyone truly see it?

The artistic path is often fraught with choices, and one of the most persistent temptations is the lure of conformity.  Artists, observing the mechanisms of the market, witness the world's inclination to reward the easily digestible, the readily palatable. They see how bending one's vision, subtly calibrating one's art to align with prevailing trends, can pave a smoother, more commercially viable path. And the understandable question arises: 

Why resist? Why struggle against the current? 

Yet, for those artists driven by an inner imperative, for those who create not for external validation but from an unquenchable inner fire, conformity represents a kind of artistic death. To compromise the authenticity of one's vision is to silence the very voice that demands to be heard. Vulnerability, in the context of art, is not a weakness to be overcome, but a radical act of courage. It is the deliberate choice to create from a place of raw honesty, to expose the fragile core of one's being through the medium of art. This act of exposure is inherently risky. It opens the door to judgment, to criticism, to the potential for profound rejection.  It means offering something deeply personal to a world that may remain indifferent, or even hostile. And yet, within this very vulnerability lies an unexpected and potent form of freedom.  

The artistic struggle is undeniable, the path often arduous and uncertain. But the enduring question remains:  Why persist? 

Why continue to create in the face of such challenges?

Should I give up? Why the fuck continue?


The answer, for many artists, lies in the unwavering nature of inner drive.  Art is not pursued because it is easy, profitable, or guaranteed to be understood. It is pursued because it is necessity. Because there exists within the artist the voice, a vision that demands to be expressed, a story that yearns to be told. 

So, should I give up?

Therefore, the answer can be only one.

No. 

I can't.