It was planned that this artwork would be about frivolity, but it turned out differently. My concept is a text that I don’t want
anyone to read and that plays with my feelings at the expense of the viewer.
My journey from frustration in my mind and around me to emotional balance has been through introspection and awareness. I
started to build this work in my head after realizing that I can’t always achieve what I want on my own, which caused stress,
because I don’t like to ask anyone for help. It was a period of heightened vulnerability and sensitivity for me. The awareness of
the need to have people in all spheres of my life shook my self-esteem. And then I finally lost my balance.
I’m used to people close to me dying, and a part of me dying with them. But every time I still marvel at the versatility and depth
of the fractures and cracks these things cause in my life.
Another starting point was the death of my first love, a man I fell in love with more than ten years ago, although sometimes it
seemed to me that it was not real love. This close person shot himself. And to some extent, I blame myself, because I hurt him
deeply when I broke off our relationship. He could not come back to life for a long time. We lived together and spent a lot of
time together, and had fun and interesting times. We have known each other for fourteen years, which is half of my life, but
during the last eight years of our communication I could not say for sure what was in his head, because he was even more
reserved than me. He always said that he was fine. And it seemed to me that it was not necessary to force one’s way into
someone’s soul — if a person wants to talk, he will tell. But he will never tell now.
And I also don’t want to be frank about anything with anyone. It became difficult for me to keep up conversations, except about
art, and only on a superficial level. But I tried — I tried to say that the person I loved had died, to tell this to the person I could
love. But he did not want to listen to me, he did not want to support me, he did not want to help me, because it is easier to do
nothing. And it was a big blow for me, because I rarely try to open up to someone.
While working on this installation, I experienced more disappointments than perhaps in my entire previous life. They depressed
me periodically, point by point, one by one. And when I finished, I realized that when I felt bad, I was cutting the engraving. And
it saved me from depression and emotional coarsening. I finished my work, reviewed it and found meaning in my behaviour,
and began to answer the question “how are you?” not only with “normal”, but sometimes by going into details.
At this stage, I am sure that I will hardly share the most serious experiences of my life with others in the future. Everything is just
mine. My personal tragedies are only mine, and I almost never discuss them with anyone, and I need to release them somehow.
It’s just that all these emotions are like small explosions that release a lot of destructive energy, which, however, does not fly in
all directions, but moves in circles within the closed space of my head. I don’t need to talk about my problems with friends or
relatives. My way out is to vomit the whole spectrum of my experiences into the artwork.
Therefore, the exhibition of my work is a big step, because I broke myself and, in this manner, consolidated my conclusions and
decisions so that they will not be inert, and if I need to, I will return to them. Art became my waste product.
