Fruit bursts on your lips

In our house, we want the forest before the book, the abundance of leaves before the pages.  We want fruit to burst on our lips – the pulses before destiny. I want the naked, prenatal and anonymous night. We want the arrival to see arriving.

As soon as we draw, we advance into the unknown, hearts beating avidly, we are going to lose ourselves. Technique: time travel. In the bedroom, lines cross the holes of the body, songs cease.

In the kitchen, there are acts of births, potency and impotency swirl through canvases of the dinner table. Eyes are wide to follow the movement of the pencil. Bones, leaves and lettuce, artichokes and arugula, it precipitates itself in spasms and waves, the length of the arm passing the hand and pencil. The centre’s the entry to the forest of leaves. You recognise the true drawing, the live one: swirling, still running, it escapes from the plate. As long as we are seeking, we are not yet full; as long as we are seeking we are innocent. Circles and strokes to meet each other, apart and together. The drawing is without a stop.

Lines drawn by cherry stones. Cherry wood, tainted and polish soothing the body, encrusted with sooo real jewels grazing on the speckles of dust. On the floor they advance, tracing the steps, collecting the bodily parts as they roll. They crack and roll, always splitting. How to draw speed, how to draw hesitation? Drawing spots – polka dots advance such a rhythm – drama without a stage, an instant relief from the footprints.

Does desire die quicker when lines settle or when the body is close to fullness and saturation?

with Valentýna Janů, Marie Tučková and Lou Lou Sainsbury

Group show Fruit bursts on your lips curated (and text written) by Hana Janečková at Hunt Kastner gallery.