The whiteness and blackness of my mind: A in the Heart of the refuge of ruin

Perhaps humans are the only beings who seek meaning even amidst the ruins. In my work, the figure is cradled by darkness; it is as if the boundaries between sanctuary and prison, between mother and earth, and between life and death have dissolved. Black lines—like roots emerging from the past—cast their shadows upon the figure, while streaks of red serve as a reminder that every birth is accompanied by a wound. Perhaps ruin is not the end of life; perhaps it is merely another form of beginning. We are born from the heart of what has been destroyed, we carry it with us, and ultimately, one day, we return to that same darkness. In the end, perhaps life is nothing more than a fleeting attempt to imbue the space between two silences with meaning.