Bitterfly

How is man’s castle of imagination made? That unreal structure of illusion! That point on the border of awareness and doubt. That power of creation of the man’s mind which resembles a balloon with a long thread in his hand or in someone else’s hand, and is baffled in the hands of the wind!

For me, the work of art is a conscious reaction, formed by means of an exciting and instinctive rebellious imagination. An uncontrollable envision about everything. The quality to which my ecstasies and envies are related.

I have fallen in love with fatal jokes about myself, in a demonstration of destructing the glory of humanity, and by recreating the image of the people around me, "the third-class citizens". I can call this wandering of imagination with whore feet; "walking with brain"!

We are destroying the classic beauty so cruelly and so vengefully.  Those common ideologies are being so deterrent… those fizzle efforts to make a perfect image, intimidate my unpredictable world. They do not let me feel that art is a simple, yet strange matter.

But the source of all these, is somewhere rather vague. Like a dream that I have had with wide-open or maybe half-open eyes. Like imagining an illusion, like watching a butterfly from way too far or way too close, like the memory of our childhood ramblings in the big garden of birds, trees, flowers and other creatures. My grandpa’s garden. The garden of imaginary castles.

As of now, I will not be very surprised if one day I see a delicate female foot in the garden of my house, wearing magenta fishnet tights, with blue spots on her skin and large abstract patterned wings colored in Indian red and cobalt blue on a black background, attached to it.

I wish to eliminate the distance between memory, imagination, life and creation; so I divert my way to that castle in an unknown destination.

I paint, with a little bit of skin, meat and blood!

And I know it is enough!

Amin Bagheri 2015