Neon Adhesive Tape, plastic cords, clips, Bed sheet
May 2019, Peckham, London
At times a site compels you, demands a response, this was such an instance.
It being a safehouse brought about its own interpretation of interpretations.
How safe are we?
Safe…House… two words …brought about images and memories of childhood, of making a house out of anything that one could lay hands on. A bedsheet, a cardboard box, a quilt, this deep-seated desire to have a place/space of your own, is maybe in our DNA. The memory of that feeling of security and wonder getting inside or under the simple hand-constructed sanctuary that tender hands and innocent hearts built.
Was that childhood make-believe a start of a never-ending quest for – the perfect space to reside, to settle, to put the root in? Is this a beautiful and secure place to be found on land or could it be just found in our own bodies, in our mind, when one lies down after a long and tiring day?
Is this search futile, is it a mirage?
Drawing the viewer onto a path led forward by a childlike poem.
Across the mountains blue, there is a promised land
To discover it, I shall absolutely try
Across this desert wide, there is a distant land
Milky rivers gushing by
Over where the rainbows fly
To reach there, I shall definitely try
Where, there is peace and quiet
Where, troubles don’t come to visit
There, hand in hand we sit
Over the mountains blue, there is a promised land
Gentle are the people so
Caressingly the breeze flow
Under the star lite sky
Moonlight embraces all
None being big or small
Across this vast blue sea
There is a distant land
Once I am done with this quest
Only then, will my tired soul rest