Artist Statement : Things Weigh Us Down, We Weigh Them Down
 
In certain moments one feels the ruthlessness of things. Time passes silently, without rest. Tearing another page off the calendar every day feels like a routine punishment.
 
The heaven of things glosses over the hell of other people. Things carve out an endless, safe distance between people, a distance that fills the extra space. Things in their omnipotence delight us, bring us joy, satisfy our delusions, bring about our inspirations, our placations, our sense of comfort, our drives forward.
 
Static things have begun to make their incessant clamour in our most intimate spaces. Money, toys, walnuts, peaches...objects. Robust structures, exceptional to touch, dark blues, purples, the grey-white of a hair standing on end. One after the other the personalities of things protrude to the point that soon they too will have souls. The desire a person imposes on things is reflected back onto him. Things use his weight to quietly expand the emptiness of his life.
 
People in portraits halt their speech and their actions. Gazes cover them layer after layer, and they become static things also. Anxiety, joy, and sorrow are all wrapped in cloth like table fruit.
 
There is a poem that says clouds are weightless: “They have a form but they don't get tired; without a trace, they can change with the wind.”
The pleasure of things, the self-pity, the worry: they are tangled together and wasted. It is our effort to fill the void.