cefvigo gallery

AN INTIMATE READING

We can still strive for an unrelenting clarity. When we look into the past from the construction of the present.
Placed in the desolation of our human condition at the expense of our balance.
Allow us as creators a “Visio ludere”.
When a child is playing and dreaming he can be all what he is creating in his fantasy. Out of adults reasoning´s when they affirm that we all live in parallel; a child will just dream about finding the charmed princess of his tale. The results of these empty chairs, affectionate men and oneric ladies representations are in this short story.

A wild flower girl was reciting a pray: I shall give my petals for wings…
A bird boy from his cage dreamed: If only I was born flower.
“Who listens the silent prays, the summary of wishes destined to remain silent?”

Like destiny chances of a solitary man that sends messages in a bottle.
Photographs of loneliness guessing to be completed.
The flower girl represents the absence, the nostalgia object.
The bird boy represents the remaining pain of wishing forbidden games.
The moan precedes the woman who has not been named with his body.
Craving of erotic experience in the mystical terms of the martyrs, of total dedication.
As the painter that paints the beloved body in order to contemplate it and to air it without human limits.
That is how these images look after ancient infantile prays , process of a paradoxical search of:
The gaze of love.

The game of love.
Hop of intimacy, hurl down in a deep crevice between truth and lie.
The return to the incomprehension of being born; the anguish over staying raised, carrying on life, becoming worthy.
This is no longer about playing with images or ideas; the lens turns and challenges the risk of being exposed.

Self-portrayed in others until the talisman face is found, and then vanishes with its own brightness.
Summarizing the story of this recompilation of gazes: ”One day a portrait ready to be examined by its artist become alive”.
Like Galatea that unveiled the intimate desire of her sculptor, with her look.

The infinite glance in which the beloved can be recognized.
The songs of that sight that make us remember about the violin´s sound.
The feeling of vertigo in front of the real experience that comes from his image.

Graciela De Oliveira