It was the first or second week of the war, we were in a small village. My brother and I ran barefoot through abandoned fields full of rocks and broken glass. We tortured insects and made molotov cocktails. My father, out of concern, bought each of us a rabbit, a male and a female. We petted them, fed them and played with them. I don’t remember if we named them. They roamed around my mother’s garden and ate her flowers. She gave them to our neighbours and they ate them. Our neighbours were a big and joyous family, I used to run away from our home and sit quietly at their kitchen to watch them cook, laugh and tell stories. I never saw my rabbit at the center of that happy kitchen.
My maternal uncle brought four chickens home. He and my mother sat at the front steps of our old house. My mother, disgusted, held the chickens as my uncle beheaded them. My cousin and I watched the headless chickens running around. We picked out the chicken heads from the garbage bin, counted them and played with them. We moved them around like a chess set. Some of their eyes were open.
20 Sep. – 20 Oct. ‘19
Animals, Site:Brooklyn Gallery, Brooklyn, New York
1-30 June ‘19
Discovery: Emerging Artists, Stone Quarry Hill Art Park, Cazenovia, New York
19-29 May ‘19
Every Woman Biennial, 222 Bowery Gallery, New York
9-13 Jan ‘19
Surrealism Group Show, Con Artists Collective, New York