I experience creating as a way of exorcism. Only when the work has come alive, the mind is freed of the obsessive thoughts and images. Combining moving image and sound, placed in an environment of theatrically performative backdrops, I revive the past. A tainted illusion; a place that quickly shifts moods, marked with a rhythm of hypnosis and disillusion. Movement is essential as it shows the process of an image. By making things, and moving them around, I watch them go through time and evolve. Sometimes they just disappear into diffused fragments. Cause and reaction. It’s about what something changes into, more than how something is.
The attraction of the mystery is that is hidden behind a veil of illusions. What is concealed becomes an object of desire. But what is the revelation or unveiling supposed to show? A revealed actuality, the way it actually is, or a simulation or idealization of this? Realism or idealism? The magic trick of temporary reality. An extreme version of the theatre of life, and the reality of the nature of mankind. A stage where the duality of role-play is inevitable and where escapism and oblivion meet.
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true. If happy little bluebirds fly beyond.