2016 – Doilies, woman’s thoughts-cotton embroidery – 120x100cm


Whilst vague thoughts make me feel how inadeguate my lifestyle is in relation to my age, I find myself at the kitchen table with my grandmother’s old iron. I exhume memories and roles (of  woman) which have never belonged to me.

A while ago, returning from a trip to the mountains, within black plastic bags, I found a pile of of crochet doilies made of a fine weft.  Small circles, woven in a magistral way and evocative of an absolute geometric beauty which can only be found in nature amongst some types of plants or flowers.

The sense of time encapsulated within an object which can be held in one hand.

I iron and  sew, with a desire which often brings me to transform things as to give them another meaning, another function.  In doing so, I realize I am in fact re-perpetuating an ancient ritual… what is destined to stay beneath, to sustain, is able to live if only in its shadow.

Year: 2016

The art and the senses
Every means has its limits:
the music is blind,
the painting is silent
the paralytic sculpture || 333 00 00 333
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