I can dream big, but my heart belongs to the small things, with the scent of nothingness, covered with unknown footprints, and the enormous sadness that only inanimate objects can bear. I am spellbound by the worn, fragile, broken, used, abused, abandoned, lost, discarded stories lost in the wind. They also hide large amounts of beauty, either in color, form, or drama. Maybe I´m too empathic, as I can also feel sorry for a tomato juice.
The title of this exhibition is in dialogue with Milan Kundera’s book “The Festival of Insignificance”, the main character of which is the belly button: a small, seemingly petty, often hidden, sometimes dirty or buried under wool. At the same time this chasm is the sign that we have been born, that we have been given an opportunity. In this “everything or nothing” world, it’s sometimes necessary to take time off and choose nullity. Look in the eyes of your sock and step out of the race, which eventually ends with death anyway.