I visisted the Fiona Fey’s art installation titled “I had a dream, and you were there“.
The art installations is currently at HEA (Hannington Endowment for the Art).
It’s so touching and emotional that I wrote a brief text that I read on my Youtube video. The version is in the Italian language, but you can activate English subtitles (the are realized manually, not automated). In any case, the text is also published in this post.
The exhibition will end October 31, 2020.
Teleport to the Fiona Fey’s art installation → Fiona Fey
This is an installation about losing someone and missing them. It is a creative manifestation of thinking about someone and wishing that they wee here. It dwells on a moment in our dreams and wanderings when we feel like someone we lost is with us again.Fiona fei
The artwork is not about any specific person, nor is there a person in a physical form depicted in the installation. Instead, personal items are left to be discovered around the exhibit, such as a book or a piece of clothing. After all, we do not always have to see someone to feel them.
We all lost someone.
And if we are so lucky that we haven’t lost anyone yet, we know that it will happen sooner or later.
We don’t need to have lost someone to “feel inside” Fiona’s installation.
Nor do we need to think of anyone in particular. But yes, I think of someone in particular.
Until it happens, to lose someone I mean, think of your little problems as insurmountable pain.
You persuade yourself to be heroic to be still alive, still want to do, experiment, and embrace life.
You know that there will come a time when someone important will leave.
But until it happens, it’s just an eventuality. It is a distant perspective, like a gust of wind. It comes, it makes you a little sad, and it goes away. The next morning is another morning, another day with prospects and expectations. But when it happens, to lose someone, in that radical and senseless way like death, it is then that you look back and realize … that you have never really suffered.
They were hallucinations; perhaps, I don’t know. The only sure thing is that it wasn’t pain.
Pain is this. It’s that dark inside the heart, that emptiness, that nothingness. It’s that no longer understand everything’s meaning, yet we seemed to hold it in our hands a moment earlier.
Time alleviates trauma, but not pain. The pain stays there, it accompanies you to work, while you meet friends, when you go to the theater or the cinema. You don’t always feel it, but even a small detail, meaningless for everyone, triggers a cascade of memories and emotions in you.
Here, the details are, in Fiona’s installation, the objects in red. You can easily distinguish them in the washed-out context of black and white. Usually, they are the memories that touch you, here you will have to do something: click on it. And then it happens that you have a dream: it all seems so real, so authentic. The person you lost is there with you, as before. You talk to her, embrace her, and not feel pain because you know that there is no separation.
Only then you wake up. The memory of that dream remains to give you hope.
And dream after dream, even some certainty.
[Fancy text made by me.]