How far can a year’s overview be from the reality of the geography we live in? To clarify gains and losses can technically build a chain of findings and thoughts. In the light of the developing knowledge, production, effort, love, fantasy and hope can be reshaped. But what the main objective should be in an artist’s sharing of aconfrontation, quest, utopia or a thickly underlined mental enquiry? In fact what is “Supposed to Be”? On in an explicit language; what is the aim of the effort/hardwork?
Could the answer be; happiness? Or?
In the last few years we have often heard about and mentioned the idea of affordable art… I think it becomes a basis for a new physical and intellectual opportunity where material and spiritual limits are comprehensible and reachable. The thoughts and creations of us, young artists, that navigate in unexplored, unnoticed, postponed, missed themes that we have been fusing together, in our daily lives… In fact, in a sense, it would be less than enough to call ourselves the cultural proletariat.
we are the players of a double-sided game, while you were mapping out the streets you did’t belong to, I was walking on that endless and semitransparent road, with the fox on my left and the rabbit on my right. whose face will you be looking at with every layer you dig. we’re not equal, I was sick and such a sickness it first covered my fingers, from my fingertips to my wrists, each and every hair on my wrists gave i to the sickness. as the sickness went up to the angels sitting on my shoulders, I knew that half of the road was over.
“I apologize I have to eat you.” this was all I could tell the rabbit, and the road was still semitransparent, I was proceeding with the fox on my left.
the appetite of my sickness resided, it was the rabbit’s blood leaking from the corners of my lips, my eyes were crying as I couldn’t believe I had eaten my travel companion.
“you are human” said the fox, frightened.
I could only say “I am sick”.
“Please don’t cry when you have eaten me as well” said the fox.
“but I had raised you in those beautiful cages of yours”.
once I realized there wasn’t one tree on the road we walked, that we didn’t hear birds singing, I dropped on the floor just where I was.
“end of the road” tiny marks already began to appear o my knees, they were like the maps of a street I didn’t know.
I felt like seeing you in my body, I could say I swear on everything I’m devoid of and thus I also ate the fox, biting those beautiful ears of his. “You are no more naive” said a voice, “you will never find that street since you have eaten those two creatures you raised with your own hands, even if you weren’t hungry”.
I shuffled a bit the notebook I filled this winter. A small, bluish, striped notebook… It’s written “dream and explore” on it, with transparent clouds underneath, covered with stars. I have a small storage room at home. Inside, hundreds of such notebooks, written, drawn, filled, semi-filled, one on top of the other; awaiting to be sorted, selected, cleaned out. It deeply annoys me; sometimes I want to destroy the entire house, all my creations at once, and step into an empty home. I don’t do it; I will soon turn that empty house into this one with other texts, drawings and paintings. It will be no different than this one. I wonder if this is another kind of hoarding… I don’t collect paper bags or newspapers but I collect my own works and creations.
Mom and grandma used to cite a lot of expressions. When I was little, I never could understand the metaphoric meaning of these expressions, and thus I made up new meanings for them. I even became angry when talked to as such. As if these expressions solved our problems. The problem persists; but well done, we have found the appropriate expression for it!