In Local Time
In local time
Recently I spent quite a lot of time by myself. To look closer, I have been alone all the time. After all, we are all alone in our heads. I began to explore the environment, the space in which I am, yet this space is not physical surroundings, it is more like an inner space – the background of my thoughts and feelings, the inner room.
When the area is bounded, the only possible movement is motion in time – I can only wait. In this way, paradoxically, the present signifies its lack. Being deficient in other places, I lack the other times as well – perhaps memory, experience, or hope, promise. Relative, dream-like state opens up.
In the paintings, I think over the innate loneliness of a man, that derives from consciousness isolation. Confined spaces and images of the medium, considered as projections of space of consciousness, became the motives of my paintings. The elongated present appears to lose its significance – after all, the present exists only in the context of movement. However, while being still, it expands, becomes, as thick as a mist, clogs ears like water, fills the space. While staying in the inner room, I observe this medium, micro motions, overlapping, resonating states in it. The observation of being stuck presents the being itself. Now I know that I will go on after being here.
Whereas the painting is considered, as a reflection of consciousness, through stagnant space exploration, I think over the being of a painting, as immutable yet having a depth image. In its stiff shining, still, there is a space for waiting. And you can see parallel realities through the surface.