On November 14, 2021, at 4:44 - the magic hour when angels shake the glittering dust off their wings - our angel, Viviana, my first grandchild, ceased to exist.
Until then, she has been, in turn, a great desire, then a great joy, then a heartbeat on the monitor, devastating news and, in the end, one of the hardest decisions a person is forced to make, ever.
For this piece I chose delicate elements, to suggest the new life that is born in a woman's womb - on a sheet of paper I sewed with my own trembling hand the rhythm of Viviana's life, as it was recorded.
Fragility and fear. Each stitch of the needle carried the risk of destroying the paper and the rhythm itself, as we felt that each day could bring, in addition to joy, an unknown risk and an immense responsibility towards the new life that was being formed.
The thin silk thread had to be handled with care, so as not to get tangled. The entire execution of this piece was charged with tension and with the fear of destroying it inadvertently or hastily.
Viviana's life is a story that ends abruptly and unfairly. Her story is engulfed in flames- like the stories of thousands, tens of thousands of other children.
Golden dreams, shattered dreams, questions, sufferings, attempts to make sense of such catastrophes always and forever remain behind them.
Cotton paper, paper, silk thread, acrylic medium, liquid chromium marker on a 20"x 15" cardboard.