Oh, how I love when two become something new, something that did not exist in the one or the other.
That’s how it felt this time for me when I read Na’ma’s poem The Critic and immediately one of my sculptures from an exhibition called Breathing Space stepped forward and said, ‘You called on me Breathing Space, the preparatory void and I emerge as an idea not yet engaged with my surroundings, eyes open but unreceptive, my arrival was born of breath and breath alone’.
We are invited here. And we are here to create our own pathway of belonging. But we are not warned that in our life lurks an inner critic that traps us to feel the security of the unending circulating hampster’s wheel, a cage in reality, and we become unconsciously stuck.