While swimming in the pond with her family, the teenage duck was suddenly startled by a hungry crocodile. In haste to flee for her life, she saw a glimmering something in the distance beyond the canyon. Driven by curiosity, she set out west to find out what it was. In the midst of the afternoon, she didn’t realize how far this shiny object was, and while trying to turn around, realized she lost her way back. Alone in the hot, African sky, she decided she had nothing left for her life but to find this object. By the late evening, she came across the object, and found out it was a fountain in the middle of a mosque. She rested on the surface of the water, staring at the blue tile, and accepted that this will be her last night. As the sun and the moon met on both ends of the sky, she died of exhaustion.
This is a dream I have had over five times in the past year, and each time I wake up, I find myself crying. I know that this duck was me. In another series of dreams, I was a cat that never had a home, and in another, I was a happy whale, coexisting with the ocean life. Each of my drawings and prints represent dreams I’ve had of previous lives, or at least what my mind has narrated as such. My artwork focuses on nature, reincarnation, and the subconscious. Our subconscious lies in our oldest memories, and our oldest memories lie in our instincts, which were biological life lessons for our predecessors. Is this not somehow a retelling of life from before? We remember from instinct, and instinct is nothing more than cautionary tales from previous genetics; or perhaps from previous existences? Nature has taught us both how to die and how to survive, and for that reason, we must remember that we are nothing without it.