ريم

Quien no se mueve no siente las cadenas….

In the first few pages of his book, The labyrinth of solitude, Octavio Paz says “Perhaps because what is called “the genius of a people” is only a set of reactions to a given stimulus”. A set of reactions to a given stimulus. I feel like these simple words describe my entire experience in this class.

I never would’ve imagined that between those four concrete walls of Room 170 in Wurster there could be such a vibrant life, a collective stimulation with words, voice tones, songs and vivid discussions. This class taught me that everything is here for a reason. The drawing feels dark, the house feels small even though it’s huge, a pastel drawing on a piece of wood could be in your face or soft and melancholic.

Each and every one of us is basically a set of reactions, to a given stimulus. These reactions have been formed by the music we hear in class, our first thoughts on the theme we had to cover, our direct and personal approach to it, and the way we express this connection through what our hands make.

My favorite part is walking into the class and seeing how each person reacted differently to the prompt, how it spoke to us in a unique manner, and how we expressed what we wanted. It was a lovely semester.

It was a surrealist dream-like atmosphere, pero como el amor, los saeteros estan ciegos!

Barbara Bezina- telequinesia

Wilfrid, how are you? I can’t recall anymore… My memory’s a forest. Your mother’s the only one who walks through it. Her footsteps tread my brain, forever bringing memory back to my life. My head is full of dead leaves that rustle under the feet of your dead mother. I’m nothing more than a traveler on the road between what I’m forgetting and the endless creaking of my brain. How can death bring forth life! My memory is a forest where trees are being felled. I’m forgetting…

Wilfrid, without knowing it, you’re about to step off the path and throw yourself headlong into the abyss.

Wajdi Mouawad, Tideline

An old photography of mexicans crashing into the shorelines of San Francisco. The only female presence in the picture is the siren, this beautiful sculpture on the front of the boat, taken and exagerated into this dreamlike figure. The siren is a charming woman, a seductress, a mystical creature of the sea with a strong back and an evil drive to pull sailors and make them kill themselves in the deep ocean.

Watercolor on cardboard

Chalk pastel on wood