Imitating the clumsy stitches I made when I darned, I knitted my brushstrokes into a baby sweater. Sewing, or knitting, is some of the anonymous tasks performed by women. These activities enable them to isolate themselves in a microcosm of peace and joy within the idiotic macrocosm of male truth.
Formerly, men feared women groups for spinning, weaving or sewing, because they associated them to the Fates and its ability to "weave destiny" (Mircea Eliade). In this sense, the sweater that we knit for a Nasciturus is the first barrier that we impose to a free soul. In my Nasciturus Sweaters sculptures (Woven Walls), the framework wires lovingly smother the baby’s light.
Acrylic on canvas
22 x 27 cm.
The artist’s collection, Paris