quarta-feira, 9 de setembro de 2015

Text "Small Flower" by K. Sangha

I had the pleasure of meeting this year Kanwal Sangha, who was a year in Portugal to write one book. I give him to know my work and now he offers me this text about this piece I did recently, in continuation of the previous in 2013

"We absorb all sensations like sponges. Petal to petal, a flower is constructed  the same way a human being inwardly builds white, black red and brown; colors are the meaning of absorbing sensations: purity, pain, love, always based on feelings.

A flower cannot be taught to obey. We go to them like hungry lovers, immerse our emotions. We want to touch them in ways we have never been touched before.To make this happen, art needs evolution of its own life form in order to be. The work characterises a relationship to nature which is based on sensation and desire, conscious that nature is distinct and unique. Therefore, apprehension is not based on copying experience but in the making of the work: the heartbeat of the artist is aware the work knows limits of human experience but realises appropriation as failure of representation.

A flower, like love, “is a many splendored thing.” It is a spectacle in romance and in death. We give it a role and sometimes we think we can control its purpose. This work is not reduced to ornamental limits. It comes out of the body of the artist: her arms, hands, fingers, feet, hips, legs. It is a dance of time, as the work appears, the movement changes, to shape, cohere and to give space  to imagination and the body. Why else does an artist call her output a “body of work”?

A flower recalls many sensations: the touch of a lover, the dead in war, a road accident. Like the petals of marigold for the Indian dead on the river Ganges, remind us in their colour and discoloration, nature, life and death form a unique relationship and powerful memories.

Sofia Beça “writes with clay”. When I look at her flowers I want to reach out and touch, put my lips to the petal, the absorbent ones, next to its neck, my ear to it shell-like aperture."

K. Sangha 

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