BLUE AVATARS, PORTALS OF REMEMBRANCE

If we only remember who we came here to be, the world would be devoid of violence. Were we to rediscover the essence of genuine love, setting aside our egos, our capacity for compassion towards both others and ourselves would undoubtedly expand.

For years, a book with a small figure on the cover, alone in the vast cosmos, kept returning to me. This cover evoked a strange mix of fear and curiosity, an unknown yet fascinating dread. Years later, my medical treatment came full circle; the diagnosis from years past returned, and with it, AVM, regrew after bone transplants. My legs became like cotton, and the trauma of past years returned in an instant. "This is impossible!" I thought. "I don't want to go through this cycle of operations again."

Then, that book "Convoluted Universe" by Dolores Cannon appeared again. I knew I couldn't avoid it any longer, that it was appearing for a reason. After reading many of her books, I decided to try Dolores’s method on myself. I found a wonderful practitioner specializing in past life regression and hypnosis. I scheduled a QHHT session, Quantum Healing Hypnotherapy. It was more than just hypnosis; it was a conversation with the subconscious, with my inner self, with the essence that holds memories of who I truly am and where I came from.

This is how the "Blue" series was born.

The sight of the blue people, as I call them, brought me immense joy and peace, a sense of belonging, of unity with an intergalactic family. Painting this series is a relief for me; I feel surrounded by unconditional love. I don't have to earn it or do anything to feel loved. The blue beings became avatars, embodying not only a representation of states or identities, but also the potential of who we can become. Each painting comes with a poem which describes it’s meaning.

Why blue? This colour is universal. We live in a world full of racial, religious, and political divisions. Skin colour becomes a stigma that sets the tone of conversation and influences how we are perceived. That's why the entire series features blue people. In Ancient Egypt, blue symbolized the heavens, and in Renaissance Europe, holiness and humility. Ultramarine evokes majestic, mysterious, serene, and timeless qualities.

The entire series features figures rendered in ultramarine, blue, a colour imbued with spiritual significance. In Ancient Egypt, it represented the heavens, while in Renaissance Europe, it symbolized holiness and humility. Ultramarine evokes majestic, mysterious, serene, and timeless qualities.

Bloom of Memory

Do you remember these bodies? Not human, other, temporally displaced, foreign-close. These are maps of the soul and its wanderings, not maps of the earth. Blue body, not a whole, but a collection.

Blue skin, a sign, a trace of a lost tribe, a sea turned into memory. Color, you say, is meaningless.

Blue skin - a fallacy, a sign of a tribal index. Or a cartographic trace of origin? Do you remember these bodies, not quite human, belonging to a time past? Bodies: pre- and post-human.

Hey, do you remember? Flames, landmarks. End or beginning?

Flames, not fire, signs. Do they burn, are they reborn? Flames creeping over them and between them, marking territory, delineating boundaries of telepathic communication, climbing like ivy, signs of transformation.

Do they burn, or are they reborn in an endless cycle of becoming? Flames, not igneous, but semiotic. Landmarks of earthly sensations, both pleasure and pain. Is it the end, or just the beginning of another journey? Scattered narratives

Tear Catchers, 320x320cm, silk paint, acrylic, gouache, oil, soft pastel on silk

TEAR CATCHERS, Taxonomy of Absence

Unguentarium: a vessel, a form signifying absence silent witnesses to the passage of time

A tear, a distilled essence of loss, trapped within glass walls

Its structure changes depending on the mood during its production

They say tears have various functions, various use

Our whole world, one of its moments contained within each tear relics of joy, the syntax of sorrow

the enduring power of absence. This glass holds the salt of a thousand departures

The body, a vessel, like these ancient bottles, filled with the ghosts of what was

Tears are just a language spoken in the silence between words

Hey, imagine the hands that held these vessels, the eyes that wept into them

The weight of their grief became my weight. Their joy, mine. a tangible presence of those long gone

life in a fragile container, their negative space defines the shape of what is lost

The salt of tears, the sea of the vastness of the space between us

**Anatomy of Departure**, 251x226cm, acrylic, silk paint, oil paint on silk

Anatomy of Departure, Firefly Rear

That evening, blue slowly leaked from these remembered bodies and their surroundings. They emerged one by one from the violet core, sediment from long-gone tides, a map of a home we never knew.

This body, its wrinkles, its fingerprints, became a map of longing, a river of cobalt returning to the earth's throat. Will I ever find peace? Solace, peace you ask? What is a body, if not a vessel for the unspoken, a rear for the ash we carry?

Firefly, not an insect, but a flicker, a stutter in the dark. Spiritual guides, they lead us with these starlight wounds.

Funny, you say, light from the rear, from hidden corners, from shameful places. As if beauty, to exist, had to be stained, had to carry the mark of humiliation. Like my own light, leaking from the places I bury, from the silence I wear.

Dung, you see, is the best fertilizer. Because it's from rot, from the body's decay, that we bloom. We bloom, not with innocence, but with the remnants of memory and longing for who we once were. We bloom, like fireflies, from the darkness, from the very places we try to forget.