X-Ray
(50cm x50cm, acrylics)
Each morning with my coffee I make 2 lists: a to do list, and in parallel, I pick up the previous days’ unfinished items and compose a “yet-to-do-list”. I romanticize at justifying the reasons why I never finished yesterday's items. I edit my excuses with poetry; make a necklace with the verses; adding beads to the beat of the missing items. The rhythm that resonates from the skipped items makes up a tune to the tempo of some incompleteness configuration.. People listen to the melody and recognize it as their own, and secretly enjoy it; we all collectively celebrate incompleteness and write songs and artsy compositions with that hush hush theme. A new in-between note that had never been played before is heard. A new color surfaces in celebration of this birth. I can spot a new turquoise. Some new fuzzy completeness..
Ardoise
(50cm x50cm, acrylics)
I was trying to express to my friend how, when swimming, I suddenly saw myself resembling that athlete on Youtube, zooming through the water and making waves in the pool; getting silently compensated for an effort: watching the distances ahead of me suddenly pass me; feeling I got more than I expected for pushing; as if it was not all strictly my own doing; a rhetoric on the verge spirituality.. She said Congratulations … you are finally Gliding… I did not confess to her that I was not sure I could reproduce this technique. Was it just a fluke? I don’t recall what led to it exactly. However, ever since, this new magical term Gliding found a place for itself in all my conversations.
Baboushka
(50cm x50cm, acrylics)
You know how your mind gets stuck on something that you did not finish, there is a silent promise somewhere that it will be dealt with later, at some more convenient time. Unfinished questions and unsettled stories and unclassified business might range from a mathematical uncertainty in the disguise of a conjecture, down to wondering when you were 6 years old what your mom would be doing in the day while you were at school : will she brush her teeth and put on nice clothes; or listen to the radio and learn new recipes that she may never try? Will she put on her brown coat and pink lipstick and colorful scarf and go to the bank? Or cook for you? Or do the groceries? Will she make the bed to the sound of the radio? Or will she sleep again and wait for you to come back from school? Will she be sad that you are gone, or just sad in general like she always appeared to be? Will she be bored and find nothing to do? Will she cry? I never answered any of these questions. They keep coming back. Will I ever stop wondering?