When black and white are colours not races people will still fall in love and discriminate between partners and feel sad and bad and need art that breaks heart and takes you to those places where pain becomes beauty. MD, The Next Generation.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
The silence drowned everything out.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
Why vicious? Why beauty? Why what soever do we love? IT is utterly hard do dress it up in words something as ephemerally beautiful as love. When it hits you, all the colours of the World seem to deepen their hues; it shines in the day and night monotonous greyness, letting its sparks transform in and out – out and in the heart, the body, and the soul. We keep on believing in it .. we hope, crave, breathe and wait for it, but not all are given the chance in their lives. Some never reach the depths of the ultimate emotional wish, lonesomely accomplishing living. Some are not blessed sufficiently and along their life paths must adapt, accept, and learn to love what is offered in order to find an inner zen with decency of an ordinary mortal. Does it equal? To find your true one, build your heart with the bona fide sweetheart against docile devotion to the alleged intruder? It’s dependant on perception, culture, and obedience. Every and each of us shall not forget to first and the foremost love and respect themselves… perhaps then we might insensibly fathom what the Passion is..?
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
Having lived in China made me discover, learn, and delve into exciting new horizons. Here I am with my artwork number 4 that has a very special meaning in Chinese culture. Pronounced correctly with tone [ sì – 四 ] means nothing but the number; however, a small tonal twist changes the word into more powerful and at the same time disliked by all [ sǐ – 死 ] – DEATH. Working on my MOTHS series dedicated to the alluring feeling of belly butterflies made me realise that death is an integral part of that spirited affection. To love is to die for? Pure and fragile, as it is the sublime emotion, its powers can make one create; build or impair. Sometimes life is not perfect… Sometimes loving makes you feel like an eaten alive soul wandering and seeking soothe that never comes. However busy life we can have, however exciting and colourful… hit by the Amor’s arrow, living surrounded by crowds, yet feeling emptiness and sorrow from the decay staining the heart. The moth of death seals the Spirit in a coffin, where it waits for a miracle – the only power that makes one breathe – hope.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
As much as transcendent the fulfilled love can be, one-sided devotion falls far from the divine. Alienated, one seems to burrow lack of affection in constructing countless quixotic fables. Time passes; the Cosmos altered by passion and despair fades into twilight. The mental moth spreads its wings waving hectically, distorting and overshadowing logical attention. Realism and cognition, now shoved away, made space for spreading caustic judgments. Nothing seems impossible; every smallest residue of memory becomes an essential part of solitary existence. Reality is adjusted to form an unorthodox territory of infinite confusion. The creature integrates with the sickened psyche becoming the mastermind of ongoing paranoid reality. There is no remedy – when the heart becomes tender, life seems a constant hallucination.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
Where do moths come from, one may ask? Ubiquitous night butterflies, oftentimes entombed in an unexplored vague universe, at times awakened by bizarre sequences of events are freed from shadows to become varmints of the daylight. Moths have no souls themselves, instead they seek their victims to parasitise spirits ruthlessly. Each of them owns a unique realm. The crimson moth is not different in this matter. As charming as it seems, its selfishly carnivorous nature makes it hunt for blood, regardless the day or night, to stay unspeakably beautiful and alive. Once spotting a vulnerable heart, it starts its ferocious dance to reach with fangs the depths of the delicate tissue, leaving nothing, but a gory oozing wound. The battle of the enamoured spirit is lengthy and brave, withstanding all cruelties of the predator, which torments the soul till the last unspoken whisper happens – not.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
Love, like everything, has many shades. The blissful sensation wants us to scream for only good things to be happening around us; however, that’s not always the case. Sometimes the crystal moth rises from the abyss to stir the reality and trigger indescribable pain provoking endless waterfalls that dry and burn inside out. The flow is unstoppable. The devilish emissary extracts, moulds, and distorts the already exposed and sensitive soul by confronting it with the evil truth. All of a sudden the heartbroken is drowning in the seas of bitterness and pain, seeking any lifesaving means to salvage from agony. Now more than ever before, one urgently seeks for minuscule compassion to obscure the woe and draining stigma. The perpetual falls dry. The amount of pain that grew and flourished for so long in the spirit accumulated mountains of salts, salts that charred the springs.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
Enveloped in fire, the infinity moth is the most bittersweet parasite of them all. It enters ones heart quite unexpectedly, setting the body and the soul in amorous flames. The tyrant of the soul makes one wish that something as abstract as true love – soulmates did exist … Does it..? Perhaps it does, though under the gloomy skies of moths the universe narrows fiercely. In the moonlight poisoned with the nectarous aphrodisiac, true love waits looking for the star that could shine only for the two dreaming that the wind weathering cheeks brings tender kisses carried on the wings by the favourable bright butterflies. It makes one fall asleep and wake up to greet the stone cold intruder.. The infinite delusion invading the heart makes one perform irrationally, offering all that could be given in an act of selfless love to instantly and consciously make the sufferer realise how ridiculous these actions are. Nevertheless, boundlessness of the feeling overweights what in a normal situation would’ve been weighted, reasoned, and avoided. Quite instantly one becomes a tragicomic spectacle… wishing to keep the face – how? How to wake up from that bad dream? An infinite dream?
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
I reached a point, a finale of an overpowering, yet intriguing process of working on the MOTHS; the series that is an exploration and at the same time an emotional exploitation revolving around the theme of unfulfilled admiration – platonic love, an affection which due to its unfavorable complexion oftentimes, as we tend to celebrate and store in our memories only the happy moments, is omitted and forsaken. Why so..?! Number nine, as all the previous works, has a unique meaning. In numerology 9 corresponds to the last phase in a life cycle and represents the control over one’s own fate. Amid tumultuous emotional polarisation, a muted aurora brought a hybrid of dark and bright alar critter, the karmic moth. On the spur of the moment, the sorrowful spirit that for so long fought with the altruistic affection understood that the two were not destined in this life… that the controversial battle for true love has been trivial and lost for good.. Placidity of that moth interweaves the heartsore void, passing the debris of faith in an anticipation for a finer future. After all that trodden enchantment and subtlety running across the chest, the only way to sustain is to imagine one’s own paradise… … There is no coda, as #0 was initiated in the heart.
// Digital collage // 2014-2015
