It’s really hard for me at times to explain my owl paintings. I think that they are like pieces of a big puzzle and you wouldn’t see the whole picture until you spent a good amount of time putting them together. It’s like they mean all at once, all the pieces of myself reflected on a gritty surface of a wooden board.
I've been feeling like a little bird, who's been locked in a big room for months. Space, full of windows through which I could see the infinite sky with the sun bursting through the weightless clouds. The whole world was there, waiting to be explored, breathed in, eaten with my eyes... It seemed like almost everyone around me felt the same - we were locked in our homes, robbed of the things we love, not being able to hug each other, fearing being too close, adjusting to the new flow of things, trying to adapt, eager to survive. I’d never thought that those strange times would gift me with one of the warmest friendships in my life. When I think of us supporting each other even being far away physically, I think of a blossoming tree generously sharing its blooms with another one. All the messages, calls, zooms, those big little things that make an endless circle of support are like flowers traveling deep inside my heart. And there is a river of time. And the time feels fluid and solid at the same time. And my heart feels loved.
