Efemerics is a part of still unfinished project. These are momentary, or rather - just like in dreams – never existent glints spell-bound into pictures.
The series consists of images brought from dreams - mine or other’s , but it was me, who have converted them into pictures. They could be seen only through my eyes. Anyhow, these images I’m seeking in my mind. They are written by the Fromm’s symbolic language, where signs and symbols are my own, but they could be understood through non-intellectual way and that’s why become universal. I’m looking for those archetypes in myself, but they could exist beyond me and beyond my consciousness. In fact, this created world exists through my consciousness, but still it is primary, original and universal, somehow in some kind of meaning.
I am the Creator of this world. In here - just like in my dreams - space and time have no power. My space is unreal – not fixed to the outer world. Unlike signs, space and time haven’t got their equivalents in my world, because they only rule over what is outer, they are missing in the layer of image. Pictures – set and still – miss the categories of time and space (at least the logical categories...), but as images and interhuman events they become a real, present experience.
My images, alike dreams, are real and obscure at the same time. Just as picture, which has a power to excavate just for a while, what belongs to the deepest life (Leris).
As a child, I often dreamt one dream. It was a nice, soothing dream about flying and windows. In the dream I would float in the air, above the city. It would always be in the evening, a forbidden time for a child. I would fly above the roofs and from the distance I would see warm lights gleaming from the windows. I would descend and watch, still invisible. I could spy the evening hustle of people, who were strangers to me. But I could only see a part of the picture, the one enclosed by the window’s frame. I would be outside and guess the stories I had no chance to know. I could create them myself. Illuminations are like those ‘peep-stories’. They are images, I secretly looked at in the dreams, like in a building with many windows. Everyone can make of them into their own story or remain merely a voyeur.