Piotr Zbierski
White Elephants
It is very simple, actually. Me and my bag of pictures are nothing more than the love I have felt, things I have been looking for, people I have met, the feeling of guilt. All those decisions that turn an individual into two separate beings, where imagination will always remain false, whereas reality is always untouchable. Actually, it is just the mind, the world on three elephants. All these things that are with me when I am alone in the night, when I’m doing something in order not to do and not to be who I really am. We all resort to it because we want to have memories.
I’m not sure. And it simply doesn’t kill the process of becoming. Create the playground from anything you have at the moment. Step, step, stop. And again.
Thinking about the holidays, how the whole idea of them changes as we grow older, how they all merge into one mass, as if two frames overlapped, or black and white became one. All that to make sense of building your own home wherever you are. At the time of changes, it is always faint and in a kind of limbo.
Pictures are alive (in the same way as we are) mainly because we have to die. Save your songs, there is not much time to analyze.
