Chronicles From The Future: The amazing story of Paul Amadeus Dienach

About the famous women of that time, after the 20th century that is, I didn’t know much. I can now only recall three names: Erika, Anna-Flaisia and Ariana. I asked Stefan up to whom it is to decide who will be turned into a sculpture and who not, and he vaguely replied that nothing happens without the knowledge and consent of the Ilectors. What I noticed was that even sinful people or non-existent, fantastic, characters from poetry, literature or music had been turned into sculptures. I have the opinion that the selection wasn’t that careful... Stefan spoke of “the element of the wonderful” in these big hearts, an element that perhaps hadn’t been appreciated in all its glory in earlier times. That’s why you now see sculptures of fishermen and hawkers, depressed suicides and even women who, in our time, would have been characterised as being of loose morals.“This is because at that time no one was aware of the importance of all those people and all the different and sometimes extreme expressions of their inner self; nobody knew that about the common Source of all these expressions,” Stefan explained to me.

I can hardly remember any of their artists’ names, but you can see clearly in all artworks how genius blended with inspiration and gave birth to an exquisite expression of ideal beauty and pure, noble love.

Stefan also talked to me about De Lamartine’s Graciela, whose statue we came across at some point, among the rosebushes of Umliani.

“It was a glimpse of the Samith

that made her heart flutter. She couldn’t endure it. That was enough to cause her death… Back then nobody could have thought that at some point in the future her statue would be erected in the largest intellectual centre of the world. Centuries had to pass in order for people to grasp the true meaning of her painful story. “Not even Graciela herself realised what killed her. But such kinds of deaths are a beginning, not an end.”

Indeed he believes that such deaths have something in common with the deaths of Christ, Socrates and Giordano Bruno. “And I don’t want to sound disrespectful or blasphemous,” he felt the need to explain himself. He doesn’t ignore the enormous differences between the cases. The “thing in common” for Stefan is the fact that in the past such deaths were considered the end, “the terminus”, either via suicide, execution, the stake, hemlock, crucifixion or torture, but now the judgment of history has demonstrated the opposite: those ancient “losses” marked new beginnings, not endings. They were a start of something more real, something divine; they were a passage to eternity and immortality.

In front of the statue of another prematurely deceased young and beautiful lady, Vana-Aregia by Thoralsen, Stefan recited the verses that were engraved on the pedestal. He remained motionless in the same spot for several minutes looking at this marble masterpiece, immersed in his thoughts.

“Look at the expression on her face,” he said “there’s no need to read about the Valley in history books and guidebooks: everything you need to know is here, as long as your eyes and soul are open.”

He then explained to me that this particular artwork is one of the rare masterpieces of their 9th century, all of which they’re very proud of. Immediately after he added, “Here in the Valley of the Roses, for the first time in history, all hopes and dreams and ideals now have a face, a purpose. They have come true! They have substance! In fact, they are now more real and tangible than our own lives.”

I couldn’t help revealing my thoughts to Stefan: I told him that perhaps they should be more careful, that perhaps they have mistaken the mere evolutionary progress of the human species for something sublime and transcendent. He found my mentality one of an unenlightened man of the old age with little faith in the wonders of life, constantly suspicious and deprived of emotion. Without scorning me, said, “A true Homo Occidentalis Novus would never have articulated such a concern because he knows that all concepts and instincts that exist beyond reason, like intuition, faith, poetry, philosophy or motherhood, have a common source: the Samith.”

We walked around those densely “populated” residences of the statues tirelessly until the late evening hours, and, unintentionally, Stefan conveyed his unprecedented excitement to me. Those enormous figures looked as if they come to life when no one is around to see them. We passed by the statue of Mother Renard, Teresa Beren and the wonderful plastic composition of Brigitte Enemark, works by Erksen, Greneval and Ileana Virmpach respectively.