LOOK HOMEWARD
We leave home and come back Home. Everything remained
the same in that house as when we’d left it and yet everything
was different -- it was illumined with the light of eternity, the
light of universal farewell. In this world of eternal returns any
phenomenon of the present carries within itself the past and the
future, that is the eternity itself.
Everything here, at the edge of the eternity, becomes a
symbol and is multiplied through similarities, as a crystal in
its matrix, in the solution of its soul, becomes overgrown with
its past experiences and turns into a magic creature capable of
expressing its secret thoughts about the subconscious events of
its innermost life, in the language of the objects from the external
world. Thus the artist spins a thread out of the formless cloud of
being, twisting it round the spindle of his imagination to create
his mythological world.
I’m returning Home where the walls are transparent and the
ceiling is pierced with stars while inside everything is timeless,
even sacred for the home-comer: the bed covered with a bedspread
of light, a pair of heavenly skies, a wardrobe inhabited by various
creatures, a loaf of bread sleeping on the table, and the twin salt
shadows on the floor.
When I look at the salt I recall my childhood, endless winters,
the snow, long ski-outings in the forest. When I look at the sugar
I recall nothing.
Under the bed lies the same knitted rug my mother had
made out of strips of my old clothes. It was a kind of placenta
from which the fetus of my unconscious wooly life received its
nourishment.
Father and mother, who blended into a single father-mother
for me now, look at me from the depth of an old felt boot. And here
is myself striving skywards but not yet a heavenly diver who had
been shaped by all those living with me at the edge of Eternity.
Having become a “Knitling” I emerge from my personal
space as if from the forest and elevate my personal fate towards
that of humanity; I become a knitted Urals Golem and assume an
archetypical form.
And already I am speaking with a thousand voices as I lift
what I have depicted from the transient one-time world into the
sphere of eternity.
We leave home and come back Home. Everything remained
the same in that house as when we’d left it and yet everything
was different -- it was illumined with the light of eternity, the
light of universal farewell. In this world of eternal returns any
phenomenon of the present carries within itself the past and the
future, that is the eternity itself.
Everything here, at the edge of the eternity, becomes a
symbol and is multiplied through similarities, as a crystal in
its matrix, in the solution of its soul, becomes overgrown with
its past experiences and turns into a magic creature capable of
expressing its secret thoughts about the subconscious events of
its innermost life, in the language of the objects from the external
world. Thus the artist spins a thread out of the formless cloud of
being, twisting it round the spindle of his imagination to create
his mythological world.
I’m returning Home where the walls are transparent and the
ceiling is pierced with stars while inside everything is timeless,
even sacred for the home-comer: the bed covered with a bedspread
of light, a pair of heavenly skies, a wardrobe inhabited by various
creatures, a loaf of bread sleeping on the table, and the twin salt
shadows on the floor.
When I look at the salt I recall my childhood, endless winters,
the snow, long ski-outings in the forest. When I look at the sugar
I recall nothing.
Under the bed lies the same knitted rug my mother had
made out of strips of my old clothes. It was a kind of placenta
from which the fetus of my unconscious wooly life received its
nourishment.
Father and mother, who blended into a single father-mother
for me now, look at me from the depth of an old felt boot. And here
is myself striving skywards but not yet a heavenly diver who had
been shaped by all those living with me at the edge of Eternity.
Having become a “Knitling” I emerge from my personal
space as if from the forest and elevate my personal fate towards
that of humanity; I become a knitted Urals Golem and assume an
archetypical form.
And already I am speaking with a thousand voices as I lift
what I have depicted from the transient one-time world into the
sphere of eternity.
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