A Deep conversation with Chatgpt

For Muhamet Trepça, the act of finding figures in olive wood is a very special process, closely tied to nature and imagination. He does not see himself as someone who “creates” the figures, but more as a person who “discovers” them — the figures already exist within the trunk, within the veins and shapes of the olive wood, and he simply helps them come to light.

His process is often intuitive: he carefully studies the veins, structure, and natural spots of the wood, and from these visual readings he begins to see forms — faces, animals, natural signs — which he then highlights by hand, intervening very little, only to emphasize what is already there. In a way, it can be said that it is the wood itself that shows the figures to Muhamet.

Would you like me to show you a particular example of his work?The relationship between the way Muhamet Trepça works and the concepts of Umberto Eco — especially his ideas on interpretation, the openness of the work, and the role of the reader — is extremely interesting.

Umberto Eco spoke of the idea of the “open work”, where an artistic creation does not have just one fixed meaning, but is open to many interpretations, co-created by the viewer or reader. He also emphasized that meaning is not given once and for all by the author, but is born from the interaction between the work and the one who experiences it.

In this spirit, Muhamet Trepça also does not impose a single meaning on the figures he finds in wood. He often says that he does not “invent” the figure, but “reads” what the wood tells him. This aligns closely with Eco’s idea of interpretation that leaves room — where the material itself (the wood, in this case) is a text that seeks collaboration to be understood.

In Trepça’s art:

• The wood is an open text: the veins, colors, and forms are like words or signs waiting to be given meaning.

• Muhamet is the first reader: he sees the hidden figure and helps it emerge, without closing off the possibility for someone else to see something different.

• The viewer is the second reader: anyone who sees one of his works may find new meanings and images, perhaps even ones that Muhamet himself had not imagined.

In a beautiful way, it can be said that Muhamet Trepça and Umberto Eco share a common belief in the open dialogue between creation, nature, and human interpretation.

Would you like us to connect it more deeply with another of Eco’s concepts, such as “the limits of interpretation”?

Very nice! Let’s go deeper into the idea of the virtual interaction between Muhamet Trepça and Umberto Eco, even though of course they never actually met — so we’ll imagine this as an intellectual dialogue between them.

Muhamet Trepça, through his work with olive wood, acts as if he follows an inner calling of the material. He does not treat the wood as an “empty” material that must be shaped according to his will, but as a partner that speaks and offers its own ideas, images, and hidden narratives. Muhamet is in the role of discoverer and interpreter.

Umberto Eco, in his theories — especially in The Open Work and The Limits of Interpretation — says that an artistic work is always open to many layers of interpretation. He argues that a text (or a work of art) is never just a clear message from the author, but a space where the author, the work, and the viewer/reader coexist and create new meanings.

In this virtual collaboration, we can imagine these points of contact:

• Eco would say to Trepça: “You do not dominate the wood. You collaborate with it, just like the reader collaborates with the text.”

• Trepça would respond: “I don’t seek to be the master of the figure, I’m the first to experience its wonder. Then, everyone who sees my work may see something else — maybe even something more beautiful.”

This relationship of respect toward the material on Trepça’s part is very much in line with Eco’s concept of respect toward the textuality of the artistic work.

Another interesting connection is:

• Eco says that an interpretation must be open, but not unlimited — meaning, we cannot say anything without connection to the original text.

• Trepça likewise does not invent foreign forms in the wood: he lets the veins and natural structure of the wood guide the figure. He works within the boundaries of the material itself.

So, virtually, their dialogue is a silent collaboration between a philosopher of words and a philosopher of wood.

If you want, we can go even further — to imagine an essay written by Umberto Eco about Muhamet Trepça’s art!Would you like us to build a piece like that?

Beyond an imaginary link between the two thinkers, here is how an essay written by Umberto Eco about Muhamet Trepça’s art and his philosophy of finding figures in olive wood might look:

Eco: So, you are a faithful reader of the material. This reminds me of a principle I have: an interpretation is not valid if it is completely detached from the structure of the text. You preserve the boundary.

Trepça: I preserve it. Because if you break the vein, you also ruin the story it was telling me. Wood has memory, and in that memory I move with sensitivity, not force.

Eco: An open work, then, but with internal rules. Like a novel that allows many paths of reading, but does not permit just any kind of reading.

Trepça: Exactly. I don’t tell the viewer what to see. A face that for me is a silent old man, for another might be a woman crying. What is true for both is the wood itself.

Eco: And isn’t that the beauty of art? When the material and the mind meet in a common space that invites others to be part of it. In the end, you too are a reader. But a reader who leaves physical traces on the text.

Trepça: Yes, a reader who doesn’t write with ink, but with patience and wood.

This dynamic dialogue keeps both in constant motion around ideas of creation, reading, and respect toward the material — one in a natural form, the other in a form of philosophical thought.

Do you want to extend this conversation even further — perhaps in a specific setting, like an exhibition or an imaginary joint seminar?Then let’s imagine a special situation: a joint imaginary seminar between Muhamet Trepça and Umberto Eco, held in an art gallery where some of Trepça’s olive wood works are on display.

Seminar title: “In the Veins of Meaning: Wood as Text, Figures as Interpretation”Location: The Imaginary Gallery of Hermeneutics, FlorenceModerator: A young scholar of aesthetics and semioticsGuests: Artists, philosophers, art students, and passionate readers of Eco

(Moderator):Today we have a rare encounter: an artist who reads nature, and a philosopher who explores how we read the world. Mr. Trepça, I invite you to speak first. What do you feel when you approach a piece of olive wood?

(Muhamet Trepça):I don’t go to the wood as a sculptor, but as a patient observer. It speaks to me. Each trunk has a story that asks me to discover it, not invent it. I touch it with my eyes and feel it with my soul. The veins are like sentences patiently written by nature. I try not to interrupt them, but to read between them.

(Umberto Eco – smiling):You are an interpreter, Muhamet, but one who respects the structure of the text. This reminds me of reading an ancient manuscript: you can’t intervene with cold logic; you have to understand the spirit, the intention, and the silence of the invisible author — in your case, nature itself.

(Trepça):Exactly, Umberto. I don’t want to ruin what is. When I sometimes try to intervene with too many “human ideas,” the figure disappears. It has happened to me. The wood shows me a face, but if I insist on making another, it begins to fade.

(Eco):That’s what I call “the limit of interpretation.” The reader is not a dictator of meaning, but a partner in a complex game where the text also has the right to say “no.” Let me ask you a question: have you ever seen a figure in a piece of wood that you couldn’t explain yourself?

(Trepça):Yes. There’s a small piece of olive wood I keep in my workshop. There is a figure there — a mix of an eye and a shadow, maybe a skull or a woman crying — but I can’t understand it. It looks at me. I can’t say what it is. I let it be whatever each person sees. Maybe it’s not for me.

(Eco – softly):That’s where the real work begins: when the author loses control of it, and hands it over to other interpreters. The work is no longer just yours. It belongs to everyone who has eyes to see and a mind to question.

(The room falls silent. A light shines on one of Trepça’s works – a half-human, half-animal face that seems to appear only when seen from a specific angle.)

This scenario is an imagined but entirely possible homage in the world of ideas that respectfully collide. If you want, we can develop this as a theatrical piece or a longer narrative essay — or even as a literary art installation. What form would you prefer?

Perfect!A literary art installation is the ideal way to embody this dialogue between Muhamet Trepça and Umberto Eco, where word, figure, and natural material intertwine in an experience that is simultaneously aesthetic, intellectual, and sensory.