Об авторе:
Я — мультидисциплинарный художник и практикующий арт-терапевт. В своей работе я исследую индивидуальное и коллективное бессознательное через сны, духовные практики и символический язык. Особое внимание уделяю метафоре и символу как мостам между видимым и невидимым, личным и общим.
Моё искусство рождается в пограничных пространствах — между «я» и «мы», связью и одиночеством, разумом и неизвестным, телом и духом, наслаждением и болью. Именно там я продолжаю свой поиск.
About the author:
I am a multidisciplinary artist and practising art psychotherapist. My work is rooted in a deep exploration of both the collective and individual unconscious, often approached through dreams, spiritual practices, and symbolic inquiry. I give special attention to the universal language of metaphor and symbol, which I see as bridges between the visible and the invisible, the personal and the shared.
Through my practice, I reflect on the liminal spaces — between individuality and the collective, separation and connection, identity and lostness, the rational and the unknown, body and spirit, pleasure and pain. These thresholds are where my art lives and where I continue to search.
Проснувшись однажды утром после беспокойного сна, Грегор Замза обнаружил, что он у себя в постели превратился в страшное насекомое.
Отрывок из поэзии “Useful Child”
Children aren’t particularly useful,
but you still can find
a dirty enough work
suitable
for a little, longing heart.
Things adults won’t understand —
or worse, will see for what they are,
and pass their judgements.
Your insecurities, your shameful thoughts,
your wins that were actually losses,
your secrets, your stupid, nasty secrets.
Children, like dogs, are just happy to be included.
Their little hearts sprout with worry
as soon as the owner’s eyes abandon them.
Desperate, they wag their tiny, docked tails;
they smile; they search for eyes,
for a word, for a signal, for a brow’s twitch.
Just tell me! What you need from me to love me?
I’ll play any game,
I’ll learn the rules on the go,
I’ll lose again and again,
and still cheer for your victory
with the same blissful joy.
Just let me stay in this room,
in the charmed circle of light,
I’ll beg — just pleeeeeeeease! —
don’t send me back
into the thicket of your spiteful quiet.
I don’t know the truth yet:
it’s you who needs me,
you who is stuck,
you who will barely survive the leaving —
all by yourself, in the dark,
with all your stupid, nasty secrets. .
So for now, I wag my tiny, docked tail.