All art is an attempt at connection. Every artist is a tree of dehydrated dreams searching for water and fertile soil. When they paint. When they dance and sing. When they write and wait. When they sculpt, sweat, bleed, and fall. Art is life trying to escape the vault, and if we dig our fingers in, peel away the layers, and unlock the doors and their locks, we will find at the center of its creation a restless, frightened little wasp.

Radio Solace by Remco Ardui is an unpolished gem. A solitary man searching, in an abandoned church, for the ideal place to make his radio transmissions. Not his favorite songs or deboned news disguised as subversion, but the release of sounds from objects left behind in that suspended sanctuary. Dissolving words still floating without purpose, searching for their last listener. Searching for the closure of their meaning.

Remco does not embellish his documentary with ideals of altruism or artificially acidic colors. He does not claim to be something he is not for the sake of applause. It is a work made with the bare minimum but resulting in a delicacy of sincerity. It is the raw exposure of the artist’s great search. Of any artist. A contemplative film, to be savored alone.