Aretè, greek word (ἀρετή) that originally meant the ability of any thing, animal, or person to properly fulfill its task. The starting point for Aretè, then, was not form, but rather its ability to carry out an assigned role. Not an immediate function. The aura, a concept Benjamin elaborated in 1935 starting from an intuition of Baudelaire, was a kind of sensation, mystical or religious in nature, evoked in the viewer by the material presence of the original exemplar of a work of art. In this endless pursuit, I realize that contemporary objects are almost devoid of aura, not only because they are reproducible, but perhaps simply because they are devoid of anything at all. I would like to think as if time and space had no beginning and no end. I have drawn a space, the boundaries of a space.

The inevitable is what I can find in an empty space. What is emptiness? How can each person be led to find it: through silence. Eliminating sounds, lowering frequencies. Years of concepts, all within one object. What is inevitable? What is home? Once again, I pause to reflect. Nomads carried a carpet with them to find home wherever they went and to define a space. Here it is: the space. But I am not searching for a home. I am searching for the inevitable object within a space perhaps called home. An object that can summon emptiness and awaken the fullness of thought. I am searching for a memento, an object that reminds me to think. I draw a contemplative object. Carpet. That word calls to me. An element of Prayer, Meditation and Decoration. The carpet is a sacred place. It is for Muslims, but also for Christians and many other religions. To separate the sacred from the profane. The carpet defines. A carpet as an oxymoron. A fragile carpet. Keep your distance. Observe. A carpet not to be stepped on. You do not enter the sacred space by crossing the carpet. You enter through contemplation. Aretè and its virtue of transport