The Poetry of My Life
Can I share with you the poetry of my life?
At Christmas I was offered two gifts. The first one was a hot water bottle, that I received through a Secret Santa (I am never cold. Never used a hot water bottle in my life and I never felt the need for it). The second gift was a 6-month access to a French streaming platform of documentaries, or avant -garde films.
Once I got back from my Christmas holidays, I was excited to activate my gift to access the platform and watch elevating documentaries. Back in London, I was. Access denied. The streaming platform had not the rights in the UK... I could not access my gift.
A month later, after having lived a transcendantal moment of creation, I decided to go on a walk around my area but I wanted to explore surroundings I never explored. So I started walking from streets to streets I had never walked through before. After what felt an hour of walk, I could not help but stop in front of a very very very weird house. The house stood out so much from the surrounding Victorian architecture that I could not ignore it. On the door, there was a name for the house, or maybe the name of the owner. I pulled out my phone to start googling the name. The search directed me to a website of the same name, someone who was a photographer and director. I looked and left puzzled.
February 21st, I have a short circuit in my flat, leaving me with a boiler out of order for a week. I use my hot water bottle for the first time.
March 14th, my first artistic project comes into form: an art live performance. I record it via 2 cameras. I feel it is what I need to do but I don't know why.
In the meantime emerges a big need for me to share my own perspective of life and the world. I need people to understand and see what I percieve without their projections, I need them to see me through neutral lenses.
The week following the performance, I start creating the artwork I envisionned. Progressively I create short movies of 2 min per participants.
While I continue my hazardous walks in London, exploring unknown territories, a few places keep popping out wherever I go: studios.
This is where I stand. Puzzled. I can't help but wonder: Is there a gift I am in denial of accessing?
