Synesthesia is not a mere combination of sensory experiences, accumulated by discursive thinking. It precedes experience – even more, it is pre-experience, it is realitas a priori. The word itself (together-experiencing) should, primarily, be read as a state of inherent unity before the emanation of forms commences – and only secondarily as a later assemblage of heterogeneous form-appearances.
Thus, synesthesia is not the product of human imagination, but the natural, inherent state of matter – a matter which does not differ from mind in essence, but only in appearance. And this appearance is, in turn, a product of imagination. The serpent bites its own tail. The riddle of synesthesia is no other riddle than that of the sphinx: to solve it is to look into the reality of universal human experience.
Without any imagination, there is no matter and the cosmos is empty; but with a misguided imagination, matter appears as an obstacle, a burden, a non-reality, or – most tragically – ugliness. Synesthesia is knowing that no manifest matter, not a piece of concrete from a junkyard, can be ugly. Not even dispensable or superfluous.
Wood is the origin of matter. This is not a chronological, but a metaphysical fact: wood was not the first matter, but it is wood growing from earth, wind and light, wood feeding the fire, wood whispering in the air. Not prima materia: quintessence. The radix of origin. Obviously, the wood-carver does not have to deal with metaphysical discussions: he does the metaphysics. Csizik realizes: by this freedom of doing, no matter binds him anymore. Not even wood. He is free to combine separate, aimless pieces into irregular shapes. He is free to leave them as they are. He is free to finish them by any means, even by plastic, a kind of anti-matter. This is he and this belongs to him. The methods, the tools, the forms of the grandfather become the feelings, movements and thoughts of the ancestor, the ancestors — finally, there are no individuals, neither in the present nor in the past, just a single endless stream of absolute creation. This, and only this is living tradition. The most radical act is tradition. Tradition is radical permanence. The self, the individual memories, the private histories and mythologies are not yet tradition — but the quest for truly facing it, the process of learning conceived as remembering the absolute (as in the anamnesis of Plato), and, first of all, overcoming form, matter and self by creation uncover, moreover, realize here and now that tradition, which makes us “capable of recovering ourselves” (Béla Hamvas).
That which is radical is not that which is new, which is original. Radical is that which is radix – which is the origin itself.