Stories that may or may not exist
My older sister would tell me bedtime stories as a child where she would elaborate upon old classics such as Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs, Cinderella and Snow White. No book was required as these tales would change from night to night, as the characters would evolve along with the story line. One night, Little Red Riding Hood would be carrying flowers for her grandmother, the next time, it was bread and jam. Cinderella’s step sisters would turn into witches and for the three little pigs, some would not live to the end of the story. I was captivated! Later on, this memory brought to mind how the many aspects of stories, myths and legends are changeable.
Life often happens between events where I find myself fascinated by the opportunity to interpret many realities. Fantasy is making its way into our daily experiences. The gaming illusions, for one, are gradually corroding our system of belief. The shift in political rhetoric disrupts our morals and values.
Anecdotes have always been part myth, created stories, born of deep inspiration. Lately, the usual has been called to change into a constant shuffle of ideas taking flight from obscure origins.
My painting is part and parcel a sampling of organized randomness where glass
Icicles and prancing unicorns are found on the arms of a birch tree. Below an unlikely baby alpaca pokes its head out of the tree in an environment of vines and snow berries, a prototype perhaps, of inner imaginary whimsy that would touch the imagination, is now shared with the outside.
In another painting grey skies and water brighten with the hopeful presence of a pair of women’s sparkly shoes inviting any bewildered lady to don the glittery pumps and be taken to a cliff advancing into a shimmering body of water toward a twinkling city on the horizon.
In an intimate work, a young lady stands in a way reminiscent of a catholic Madonna. She wears a red cloak and carries a small basket like Little Red Riding Hood. Her cloak, head and hands are made of interlaced lines evoking craft and tradition. Within the cloak, instead of a body, a nasturtium vine spreads through the holes of her woven cape that shows blossoms on the outside of the garment. The hood on her head as well as her face have flowers poking through adding to her strange appearance.
Her missing body is like the absence of the tangible, of reality. The idea of communication is perceived through her head and hands that is all that is needed in this respect. Nasturtiums symbolize conquest, which in this case could be fantasy spreading in all directions into the world.
Enchanted slippers (2020)
2,41 x 1,49 m
The Nasturtium vine (2020)
1,21 x 1,52 m
Wak wak (2021)
2,13 x 1,52 m
1,00 x 1,22 m
Gordian Knot (2021)
1.73 x 2.32 m