Indian Collection . 2023

Through the cure of sound and image I see myself, in the sound that intensifies my soul and in the color that covers my eyes. I see three perspectives that get confused in between a restless fan. I close my eyes and I feel the vibration of each glass, of each instrument that I know as much as I don’t.

The khaki green ripples over my closed eyes as the sea floods my ears. Am I at peace or in pain?

The weaving of the sound, around the quietly nervous fingers, begins to levitate. I withdraw and try to stop. The thought, which impedes the absorption of music, invades the circle of emotional silence and then, the calm merges with the anxiety that no longer lets me rest.

I look at the smell, I hear it jingle, it forms a cloud around my mass stuck to the floor, I reassure and transport myself towards the rug that prevents me from getting up. Now I am sound, image and air.

I return to the body, I return to the mind, I am three. I am what I see, what I feel and what I truly am. How can I be
so much and not even one at the same time? When the same image has multiple interpretations, we get confused and tired of ourselves, so we try to cover up the inevitable.

I take off the blindfold, now I can breathe. The air enters my body harshly, but it will pass.

Used Materials: Oil on Linen and swen cotton thread