I’ve been thinking about a work that can express my mental outlook from a long time.
I told myself not to go with the flow. So I imagined that I was lying on a seafloor, fearless of the wind and waves, and firmly interpreting my aesthetics.
The lights of the ship struck me, people found me – and began to laugh at me: at my nakedness, at my affectation. So I started yelling, yelling at the ever-changing atmosphere, at ships of the past and of the future.
But I can’t make a sound, so let the roar become singing.
I put these pictures in order , from quiet to laboured : struggling and panting.
