Memory is a fluid thing…
The act of remembering something is in itself changing the story of what actually happened.
There are no solid, unchanged memories.
Every time you revisit a memory, without realizing it, the memory is slightly altered.
I don’t know if a reality exists out there that is more real than the illusions of the mind. But I do know there is a code, a program, if you will…
I’ve seen it.
It struck me for the first time when I was coming home from school,
I think I was about seven.
I remember it was a really sunny spring day,
I had borrowed a stack of comics from my friend,
threw my shoes and backpack into the corner,
dashed into my room
and started to read when it happened:
at first it was tiny, but soon turned into this brilliant, shimmering light
that took over my entire field of vision.
A throbbing headache came up,
and my left hand had gone numb,
in fact, it felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore,
and from then on, I knew I knew the family curse had come to claim me:
I was a migraineur.
My migraines are of a visual sort and they often include
geometric structures that cover the whole visual field.
Checkboards, circles and squares,
ornamental, repeating designs resembling oriental rugs or mosaics.
It might be that through these attacks we’re somehow able
to see a glimpse of how our brain is coded.
I’ve had to learn to live with my migraine.
Over the years, it has become like a slightly tiring friend visiting me regularly.
I became fascinated by visual delusions,
the so-called “in-between states”…
All the endlessly repeating shapes in the fractals in my visions
might give us a kind of looking glass into
the language that our minds are programmed with by nature itself.
In all cultures, we can see the appearance of repeating patterns
and ornaments in our everyday lives
and it seems to please our senses.
I find that really interesting.
The mythology and fairy tales have been told over and over again
for thousands of years, and they will be endlessly repeated.
From Ancient Greek narratives and African tales
to the mythologies of the indigenous peoples from Taiwan.
I have interpreted the narrative through weaving,
using textures and patterns.
Like the fractals, stories also have endlessly repeating patterns.
I guess that also describes me personally, and the struggle that I feel
is a repeating pattern in my life;
I feel that I’ve built a trap for myself as I can’t properly integrate
and, on the other hand, this floating liberty of a kind
is exactly what I was hoping for.
I feel detached.
I think the duality of this feeling has shaped many of my works…
As a child, I soon learned that although I loved the sunshine,
it also triggered my migraine.
I knew I had to stay in the shadows, but I didn’t want to.
It is still unsure whether my son will have the migraine in my family.
I hope he doesn’t have it.
But if he does,
all I can hope is that there is a gift in it for him as well.