Liquefy verb /ˈlɪk.wɪ.faɪ /

• To (cause a gas or a solid to) change into a liquid form. ‘Gases liquefy under pressure.’

• To change an asset (= something you own such as property) into money, or into an asset that can be changed into money easily. ‘If we were to liquefy all our assets, we could afford anything.’

 

Reality noun /riˈæl.ə.ti /

• The state of things as they are, rather than as they are imagined to be. ‘He escaped from reality by going to the cinema every afternoon.’

• A fact. 'Her childhood ambition became a reality (= happened in fact) when she was made a judge.’

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This series started with a kiss (from my 2020 series called Fusion, About Love, Life, and Art). Clouding the outer features, the kiss became a ripple of life, and the ripple became a wave of light, and the light became love, and love became a kiss.

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Everything flows, everything transforms, everything changes, our beliefs are changing (even if at times we are not fully aware of that), our bodies are changing, we are changing, the wind is changing, the oceans are changing, Earth as we know it is changing. We live in a liquified reality, in a continuous cyclic flow where consciousness it turned into matter, and then into pure energy, and back again, continuously fuelled by an untenable desire of fulfilment, or value fulfilment, in which each seeks to enhance the quality of life.

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Undoubtedly, each series of works starts with an idea. Time and again, I spend weeks or even months entertaining one idea in my head, spinning it on all sides, imagining various forms and sizes and frames, various ways of execution, joggling with various materials, looking for the perfect combination to convey the idea and unveil the state, or rather, the emotion, I am looking for.

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Nevertheless, no matter how much I would prepare the artwork in my head, in a waking or dreaming state, interlacing somehow the conscious and unconscious mind, when I start working on it, closely chasing the footsteps of my thoughts, again and again, there is another element, another idea, or another option I have not considered before.

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It is sort of a spur-of-the-moment thought, I don't clearly see where it comes from I don't clearly know where it leads to. It is a moment when the apparently organised army of thoughts stirs itself and wakes up in me a new path, which makes it possible for the idea, the thought, and the emotion to be rendered in a simpler way or through a new shape more effectively than by the old premeditated one.

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These are moments when I am set upon going into the unknown again, a useless perhaps excuse to re-embark on the process of exploring and discovering. Not knowing something, followed by the process of discovering that particular something, is part of the beauty of creation, of this life, of being “incarnated” here. Not knowing everything gives me the pleasure of discovering and rediscovering things as they seem to be anew.

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The permanent quest for emotions and the desire for discovery are intimately synchronised with and energised by the greater need for fulfilment, or value fulfilment, which, when achieved, brings another new emotion and fosters the creative potential.

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This personal continuous cyclic flow I live in is connected to a larger world, a world comprised of the sum of each person's vision of reality, a world that I do not see with my eyes, that I cannot perceive with my physical senses, but that I feel I have yet to explore.

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Everything I do is part of my exploration of the world. I put a part of myself, I put my ideas, and my emotions in every artwork, and I let it communicate further with the invisible world of individuals’ thoughts. Once finished, an artwork is an artwork no longer, it waves and flows on the wall, it is part of the wall, and the wall is a wall no longer it is the connection with the outside world, with the collective liquified reality where each person is a contributing factor to the onward flow of life.