Echoes of a whisper
Dreams, for me are realities. Realities that unless given physical shape can become engulfing secrets. I believe that there are muffled mysteries waiting to be uncovered in seemingly insignificant and ordinary spaces of time.
Painting is a channel through which I can speak about areas of intimacy, of identity, of desire and of longing. Skins of colour often are like veils that though are added on in the painterly process, become for me like attempts at deciphering the truth. My intention is to suggest and not to impose an atmosphere that has the feeling of a faint, queer touch of the unattainable. ..Like the need for a warm blanket to a quivering, cold body…Like the assurance of the existence of fairies in a mound of sand to an innocent, unsuspecting child.
The brush of an artist has the ability to deliver so much of tenderness and emotion with a single, whispering stroke…Like the soft mumblings of love whispered into the ear of the shy beloved…Like silent mystical light that pours and floods into a room when a heavy curtain is drawn open…Like a prayer.
“If a chip of stone radiates itself, its breath, so long, how stubborn might be the soul. If sound waves carry on to infinity where are their screams now? I imagine them somewhere in the galaxy, moving forever towards the psalms.”
-Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces
The pleasure and delight of painting equally corresponds to the anxiety and unease that it can evoke. Maybe that is why the language of art has no given words and its ways of arrival at a particular destination are never pre-decided.
I feel intrigued by the immense possibilities of the translation of the infinite.