Image: Hiromi Nakajima - Untitled
"Notes for retrograde.
Notes for the drool.
Notes for propagation.
Notes for the break of morning.
Notes for interpolation which allows tips to dream.
Notes for the slips in nightfall.
Notes for no face on a back.
Notes for eerie signals in a few seconds of blusters,
makes you tremble for a little, leaving them wide open and breathing in. Then when you breathe out, I'll take a note for farewell, an anonymous waterfall.
You don’t look at me or rather you can’t look at me, you already took a luminous path on the way home, good-bye. Squinting slowly to unfocus from the garish chandelier that was on your head, another note for laying down on my bed, now you've left it’s lighter than before.
Whirling waves caught me, the depth in which someone has been buried forever, is it a total impertinence for your speed of time? Babble like a bubble as a double, as though the sounds from the deep are ascending, which is the song of pirates who robbed notes from blended tones. How long does this last? Behind us time is revolving from our forehead to our toes, high tide and low tide on repeat. I’ll be at Sunrise when notes will split blisters in cloudy days. as you see sky's the limit, it never ends so this is not the end."
An extract from "Short Notes" the collection of paintings and writings by the artist Hiromi Nakajima. Her decolonised psyche is witness to a ribaldest maze in which ideas are torn into fragments Red balloons float as broken horse hooves tread mountains spilling with creamy white lava. These images are made quickly merging primary tints in patterns of mud, perhaps an attempt to capture the spirits of colour or a ritual attempt to stop the cool drift of forgetfulness.