PROSE
Painting with words: My small texts emerge through process, just like my paintings – in layers, in sensibilities, in the things that can't quite be explained.
Here, I collect the words that have whispered to me.
Fragments of thought, images, small stories and lingering moods.
The prose pieces are not answers – they are openings.
Little places to explore – just like my works.
SLEEPING HEART
Imagine:
They say we are made of stardust.
Stardust.
It awakens my sleeping heart.
Imagine:
They say we are alone in the dark.
Or do we spark the first thought ourselves?
It awakens my sleeping heart.
Imagine:
We are capable of wonder.
Why are we here?
It awakens my sleeping heart.
Imagine:
We have created a machine.
It can think on its own.
It restrains my sleeping heart.
Imagine:
If the machine can solve the riddle:
What is the meaning of our lives?
It awakens my sleeping heart.
Imagine:
If imagination bends to reality—
Where do I then place my faith?
It awakens my sleeping heart.
Imagine:
If the truth is, in fact…
To create life. To create art. To create community.
Then my sleeping heart goes back to dreaming.