Killer, pencil on paper, acrylic on canvas, 2022
Slutness is a blame and label that has always been there, waiting to be revealed. She becomes a whore when you keep calling her that since little girl. You can beat the monster alive.
I have been trying to understand the concept living to the fullest (since I began to read women’s magazines.) First, I looked for paper dolls to cut out functioning with feeling of lack. I Had a dream in which I was in a place I had been in a dream before. It was remembering a dream in a dream. I wanted to find a paint that would paint a room in similar blue to simulate a deep ocean. Such paint was hugely expensive and demanded a lot of pigment. I visited a paint store that sold (the only one) that particular paint and wanted to see this valuable stuff, though I could not afford it. The store was also painted in blue. There was nothing else, but the paint mixer in the middle of that blue room, two saleswomen smiling and they asked if I wanted to buy something. I just came to ask for the price of the miraculous substance.
There was also a large garden, that I had only seen flying low over, garden with naturally round trees, lilac flowers. I was in awe. Plane made an oldish propeller sound. Strange visiting places in dreams where you have only visited before in dreams that only exist in dreams.