I find it hard to speak out anything playing on my mind and I get too caught up with my feelings that I cannot interpret my actions nor can I understand my mood. I managed to escape from my inner chaos by creating an interface that connects corporeality with abstractions and the result was my platform of expression. As a retrospective person, I devised my longer term therapy by reflecting back on the pieces of art I made and their significance on me. Each piece of art was fashioned to satisfy a certain desire or uncover a certain expression within me. But comes a time when I find myself I'm not able to do it anymore. When I edit my photos, they do look beautiful, but not for me. I have been struggling for a long time to come up with a work of art that inherits all of my abstraction and not just my technical touch, which left me in doubts whether I'm good at it, art, or I suck.
These photos revived my hopes of being good at it. For the first time in a very relatively long time, I feel that I have expressed my confined feelings that have been moved by the devastating times we are living, by the nostalgia and the frustration to reach the unknown but hopefully better future, by the what ifs and the existential questions that leave nothing but signs of a meaningless life. Those emotions are contained between the walls in these pictures, the same walls that have witnessed an evolution of the surrounding ambience and emotions; they approve to my emotions because they too are desperate to get back to the time when we were not faced with conditions that set us a forced parting from our inner comfort and our loved ones. These walls are the state of the people, and even though people are not explicitly observable in my photos, their influence remains profound.