The whiteness of the white

Around 3 years ago I lived in London and every sunday I used to go to Columbia rd. market to buy flowers. One sunday i felt this wish for white flowers, but for some reason i ended up buying something vibrant. So i sat on the ground of a crowded park nearby and looked at an endless sky. And i started writing… imagining the white meadow around me and how soft it felt to be above it; how unattached the body becomes when one's mind creates the field of lightness; and finally how all disappears somewhere over comprehence.

My attempt to visualise the poem gave the result of this photographic project. My goal was to portray the lightness through a spectator’s eyes and how different angle gives it another meaning. What one feels can be differently seen or understood. The lightness can become a slight madness. And the beauty of emotional connection with nature can become the loss of actual one’s self.

These three photographs are portraying myself as an artist in a still performance on a location improvising the poem and it’s emotion.

The Whiteness Of The White

I found myself awake in a white dream
Resting my flesh on a white tomentous peaks
White noisy winds were playing symphonies for these
Made them shiver dancing in circles of grace

I was lifted above such purified beds
And my skin colored itself pale
I was drowning myself in a softness of white
Covered in a white transparent gown

White hair soaked in scents of halos
Made love with the virgins of dust
White waterish eyes… pulsed
Having affairs with endless white drops

Moans like white smokes arose from the depths of the thorax
Placid face thrived its innocence
White skies have landed their heights
And so, it was the whiteness of the white.

A.ISOBEL