Swimming in the sea of infinite possibilities and drowning. This is how I felt when I entered my studio this morning (and many other mornings). Just when you discovered an island to land on, you discover that actually the sea it is full of islands that might be more promising than the one you are finally standing on. So you jump back in the water, start to swim and cannot choose any of them because you simply cannot choose, which one is best worth going to?? This is the moment you drown, alias undeciciveness.
So what do you do? You drink coffee, you clean up, you drink coffee, you start touching this material, you drink coffee, you touch that material, you drink coffee and then…you are nervous and in a bad mood.
So,before your mood becomes epidemic, you quarantine yourself in your studio and start writing this text, to try and get a grip on what you are doing.
And what is it that I am doing?
Listening to the work that shouts the loudest:
This winter I started working around the idea of letters, the patience and love required to write a handwritten letter ( anachronism in fb, mail and quick communication times) and what they mean to the receivers and the writers. The focus it takes to write them, the pleasure to receive them, the smell of the paper, the sound of the paper, the treasuring of every word, read and reread and reread, the box in which you keep them, the stamps that talk about times long gone but not forgotten. The handwritten proof of having existed….
The result so far is the result of a long process of choosing different materials (transparent paper, gold wire, gold paper, old letters on transparen paper), sowing them together manually, making moulds, and finding the right way to install it. It is not yet there completely, but almost. Also I start thinking about options as where to exhibit it once it is ready. I have some spaces in mind. Maybe it can start in one place and grow to another place, in this way the work keeps evolving, I like that. Let`s see. I like that too. x