– Berenice Abbott –
– Berenice Abbott –
Solo Exhibition
Journey. A word that takes on another meaning during the period we are going through… My journey is internal. The destination is familiar but at the same time unknown. It needs silence to unlock myself and get to know me in depth. Calm and patience, so that I can, search left and right to find the key. And then, concentration to listen, to be able to hear… little voices telling me their complaints, a word over and over and having to interpret it… Not only in the past, when I came across it, but also in the present, what it means to me now. Keywords lash out at me: loneliness, trust, hope.
Familiar voices will make me smile and while others may make me fall and cry. Chaos prevails until I sort out what I keep and what I leave behind. This journey changes from year to year. The destination is the same, but the present has changed. I think and feel differently from the last time I made the same trip. But even when I return to the present, nothing is the same anymore. My wish every time is to be able to stand on my own two feet, to gain more strength. To be able to accept my being and to love completely with an open mind my journey and its destination.
Weight. The mind works overtime… every day, every hour, every minute, every second. It analyzes every movement, every word, every sentence, every breath. It works tirelessly without anyone telling it to do so, like an old gear that mechanically rotates around itself over and over again. It is true that hyper-analysis does not help anyone, it may even make them stumble. Life wants a lighter spirit; to spin, to feel, to let go, to enjoy. But how do I achieve this? How do I stop the gear from turning?
Acceptance. Something is wrong, I know it, but I do not admit it to myself. I try to hide it under the carpet, to forget it. But it ignites, overwhelms and drowns me, it makes me suffocate. But, when I realize and accept what is happening, I will start trying to improve it. What if I am in a foggy landscape? I will try to get out of it in any way I can, in order to reach something better… more natural, more true, without lies, inaccuracies, criticism, intrigue. To be able to breathe freely without pain, without suffering. But for that to happen, I have to accept it. I know it is difficult. Can I?
Melody. The music coming from the piano keys takes me back to a dance class, a little kid turning around and laughing with a carelessness that I no longer have. It was the reason for me to love music and melodies from all over the world. A violin that plays Irish music, a radio that accompanies the student years in Athens, a bagpipe in the stone streets of Edinburgh, the bandoneon that follows the Tango dancers in La Boca, Buenos Aires. In whatever stage of my life I am, I create a scene with melodies and I lose myself in them. I want to forget, to cry, to dream, to travel, to dance, to feel that I exist, even if life does not give me what I expected. I close my eyes and drift.
Wall. Dead end. I stop, take a breath and forcefully stand, so as not to fall down. The solution is in front of my eyes, the road is open, freedom whispers in my ear, but there I stop and lose all sense and ability to overcome the obstacle found in my path. I touch the wall bit by bit with my palms and hope that it will collapse on its own, paving the way for me to move from where I left off. I do not think for a moment that there can be another path, a better one, a few meters further. And so I stand there in despair. How much time did I waste waiting?
Serenity. Landscape in shadow. It dawns and the first rays of the sun play on the surface of the water. I feel calm and confident that everything will go well. Whatever sea I encounter, fierce or calm, has a rhythm that reassures me. When I am away from it, I am filled with daily worries and anxieties. But when I meet it, whatever the season, I forget everything and have eyes only for it. I think it is love. I carry it with me wherever I stand, I peek at it and all my fears disappear.
Vastness. The room is dark. A light illuminates only what is needed. A motorbike’s engine starts and slowly moves away, but I do not care at all, because its sound does not reach my ears. My attention is focused only on the words that take me to another era, to another very different world. This is my world, because through its pages unfold, as in a projection room, sounds, images and perfumes from other eras. Smells and tastes of spices from the East, steps that run in the narrow streets of a big city, the feeling of a snowflake on the face in temperatures below zero. I lose myself and live thousands of lives… all but my own.
Trust. It is difficult these days to trust and believe that I will not be betrayed. I have lost my ability to trust. There are so many things I want to say but I have no voice. If I sit down to write them, pages are piled up, like an old forgotten letter you find in your grandfather’s desk drawer. Yellowed by time, illegible from the urge of the hand to be able to say what it wants and full of the concerns of a life time. The letter is massive. And where do I send it?
Time. Strange part of life is time. I always want more time, because I do not have enough, and if I finally get it, I do not know what to do with it. Time does not matter to me. It has stopped now, the clock is broken. Black crows devour moments, memories, companions… What I did not manage to do in time crushed me and what I managed was ultimately a mistake. I look around me in nature, it does not care about time. So why did we create something so demanding in our lives? What is the benefit for us? Why does it exist?
Hope. A word that is slowly disappearing from my vocabulary… The hope of being able to make my dreams come true, no matter how crazy and difficult they may sound to others. The hope for a world more beautiful and fairytale than the one I live in. Hope – it is true – makes me live more intensely, believing that with a ladder I can reach and touch the sky. But this is not true. Or is it?
Security. How much illusion does this word contain? I am safe, I feel protected and all of a sudden everything falls apart and I start again from scratch. Security is an optical illusion, but I only realize it when I get close. Then I perceive that it does not exist. It disappears before my eyes as if I am in the desert and reality takes its place. Suddenly I feel like I’m falling into a void. But it is up to me to provide security for myself. Only I can. If I stumble, to close my eyes, grit my teeth and my stubbornness to help me get up again.
Loneliness. I complete my journey, gaining more wisdom, more mature thinking perhaps, but also realizing that my world is so special that it alienates me from others. I made a glass cube and closed myself inside. I see them, but they do not see me. I can talk to them, but they do not hear me. I hit the glass with my fist but there is no reaction. It’s sad, but it’s true. In my quest to fill myself with love I only managed to get further away from it. The defensive tendency of the ego to protect itself. The cube is strong and does not break. I do not know how to get out of here, I do not know if I want to anymore… it has become, you see, a habit. I turn my back on the past, in order to take steps in the present, but there is no room to move forward. The past follows me day and night, it is part of me, it makes me what I am. I have to reconcile with it and move forward together. To embrace my world and go out, without hesitation.
