Whoever wants to know something about me - as an artist which

In the words of Gustav Klimt, the master of golden dreams and silent passions, we find this eternal truth: “Whoever wants to know something about me — as an artist which alone is significant — they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognise what I am and what I want.” Here, Klimt speaks not merely as a man of paint and canvas, but as one who has glimpsed the sacred fire that dwells within all who create. He reminds us that the soul of the artist does not live in words, nor in confessions, but in the work itself — the living expression of one’s inner truth. To understand an artist is not to listen to his speech or study his life, but to see — to truly see — the world through his art.

The ancients would have understood this well. For they, too, knew that the sculptor’s hands were guided by the same spirit that moves the stars. When Phidias carved the statue of Zeus at Olympia, the people did not ask him to explain himself. They looked upon the god he had shaped from stone and gold, and they knew. His art was his voice, his identity, and his legacy. So too, Klimt urges us to look not at the man behind the easel, but at the world he created with his colors — the realm of gold and shadow, of sensuality and mystery, where humanity and divinity intertwine.

In his time, Klimt was misunderstood. Critics whispered that his paintings were scandalous, that his women were too alive, too knowing, too divine. But those who looked beyond the veil of their own fear saw what he truly offered: a revelation of the sacred feminine, a hymn to life’s beauty and power. His works, from The Kiss to Judith, were not mere portrayals of flesh but windows into the eternal yearning of the human spirit — the longing to unite body and soul, love and transcendence. He did not paint as a craftsman who seeks praise, but as a seer revealing hidden truths.

Consider the life of Vincent van Gogh, whose soul burned so fiercely that his body could not contain it. Few listened when he spoke; few cared when he lived. But his paintings — those blazing fields of wheat, those trembling stars — speak across time and silence. Through them, we know his joy, his suffering, his faith. His art became the language of his being, just as Klimt’s was the mirror of his. The lesson is clear: those who seek to understand the essence of the artist must learn to read the unspoken language of creation.

And what of us, who are not painters or poets, but dreamers in our own right? Klimt’s words speak also to our lives. For each of us, whether through our labor, our kindness, or our endurance, is painting a picture of the soul. We, too, reveal what we are and what we want — not through speeches or appearances, but through the work of our hands, the choices of our hearts, and the beauty we bring into the world. To live with integrity is to make one’s life a work of art.

Therefore, let no one say, “I am not understood,” if their deeds contradict their desires. Let no one seek validation in the eyes of others before seeking truth within themselves. Like Klimt, let us speak through our creations, through the actions that outlast our words. Let us strive to make our work — whatever form it takes — an honest reflection of our spirit. For it is there, in the effort, that our truest self is revealed.

So when you next look upon the work of an artist, a writer, a craftsman — or even your own work — pause, and listen. Beneath the colors and shapes, beneath the lines and strokes, there is a heartbeat. There, in that silent rhythm, lives the soul of the creator, whispering of dreams, of sorrow, of longing. And if you listen with the eyes of the heart, you will recognize not only what they are and what they want, but also something of yourself.

In this way, Klimt’s teaching becomes not merely an artist’s creed, but a universal wisdom: live so that your life speaks clearly, even when your lips are still. Make your days your canvas, your acts your brushstrokes, your love the golden light that binds it all together. Then, like Klimt, you may one day say — “If you wish to know me, look at my work, and there you shall find my soul.”