julie paveglio
An image to grasp—
hold onto it for as long as you can.
See the tangible things that morph and churn relentlessly into something else. That which is born, thrives, dies and regenerates, cyclically cavorting and combusting. Playful, brightly colored imagery, alarmingly artificial, saccharin sweet and over-saturated, beholds a molten core, an undercurrent, a relentless shifting of being and psychology. The child-like things, innocent, uninhibited and hopeful, not-a-care-in-the-world, are woven into adult realities that are fantastically chaotic and monstrously absurd. Memory, present moments and future projections are fluid realities, overlying and competing, existing simultaneously and without distinction.