MARIANA GHEORGHIU

Confession

Many have said it before me: art is a continuous confession of the artist, about who we are, where we come from, to which family of spirits we belong.

As the years go by, I think more and more intensely about the origins, of art, of humanity, of myself.

I am reminded of the years of my Moldavian childhood, later superimposed on a Transylvanian dowry. That look that comes from my childhood filters the world, objects and the relationship with the surrounding nature. It helps me discover mysteries and, I hope, keeps my state of wonder unaltered.

It continues to arouse my curiosity, my desire, sometimes even a sometimes misguided desire, to reveal a hidden world, to penetrate into a secret one, it leads me to tread on the borders of forbidden territories, it makes me sew and unsew the ephemeral, to build 'castles' (today called installations), to relive and compose those first sensations and contacts with generous shapes, with the sensuality of roundness.

In this way I discover a paradise covered with hundreds of kilometers of threads and textile fibers, I discover gold in the dust of hayed grasses. I feel this urge to give to others the richness I see beyond the veil of humble things and materials.

Memories and the past, tradition, speak to me, and the world of plants comes alive through them, is cut up and rearranged according to other criteria.

The works recount stories about Romanian beliefs and rituals, about archetypes that govern us.

Hypertrophied seeds and elements of the natural and the organic multiply and generate a new world, a world of beginnings, of new growths.

Confession

Many have said it before me: architecture is a continuous confession of the artist regarding who we are, where we come from, and to what spiritual family we belong.

As years go by, I think more and more intensely about origins: the origins of art, of humanity, my own.

I recall the years of my Moldavian childhood, later completed by the richness of Transylvanian experience. That look which comes from my childhood filters the world, the objects and the relationship with surrounding nature. It helps me uncover mysteries, it preserves unaltered, hopefully, my state of amazement.

It still arouses my curiosity, the desire, sometimes naughty, to reveal a concealed world, to penetrate in a secret one; it causes me to tread on the border with forbidden territories, makes me weave and unravel the ephemeral, build "castles" (nowadays referred to as installations), relive and compose those first sensations and contacts with generous forms, with the sensuality of roundness.

Thus I discover a Paradise hatched with hundreds of kilometers of threads and textile fibers, I discover the gold in the hay dust. I feel this urge to bestow upon others the richness I discern beyond the veil of humble things and materials.

The memories, the past, the tradition, they speak to me, and the vegetal world is enlivened through them, is cut out and re-ordered according to different criteria.

The works tell stories about Romanian beliefs and rituals, about the archetypes which govern us.

Hypertrophic seeds and elements of the natural and the organic multiply and generate a new world, an incipient world which will bear new fruit.