WanderDust

It was the story of an imaginary line, the line between my home town and a city I love, Los Angeles and considered making my home.

It turned into two circles around the globe, while temporarily resigning the luxury of a home.

It is a  journey in a physical space and a mental and  metaphysical one as it turns out.

When I set out at the very beginning of the project through america, I took a lot of pictures of abandoned and feral buildings, cars, furnitures. I had left on a on a wing and prayer, within a week of coming up with the concept.I had hardly any funds, slept in the car often and fell into very dodgy motels. Those pictures were a projection or reflexion of an inner sentiment. They did appeal to me greatly – I found a certain beauty in them, I was drawn to them and their melancholia.

      

I wondered recently why I wasn’t drawn to them anymore – they didn’t capture me the same way they did . I was all of a sudden untouched , unmoved by them, and didn’t have the urge to press the shutter. I don’t know.Have I gotten used to be a nomad, wanderlust, wanderdust a creative pilgrim? Not really. The answer, like so many will probably come to me at a later stage, just like the whole meaning of this journey.

In Australia and NZ, I felt that the houses didn’t really blend in the landscape the way they do in ( some parts of ) Europe and Africa, where there is a certain symbiosis . Perhaps it is the symbiosis of time, different materials, craft.I am talking here about the whole look of towns and houses in general.They have a similar architecture as America.America has a little more variety and I suppose trace of time.

There is also something radicaly different  than the houses I am used to.

There are no foundations, no cellars, no ” under”, no roots to the houses.They sometimes are on feet too.

I used to think home is wheverever as long as one feels content within one can make home anywhere. It is true to a certain extend. If we move all the time, we have not got the time to centre ourselves and make the necessary bonds with the environment and the people. They make up home too. am far from materialistic, yet I found myself longing for something I would never have expected. My bed. My own bed – not a transit bed but my own.

I dont complain, I have slept in some terrible and some wonderful bed! (especially in Australia and New Zealand – beds with views even!)

I think I am tapping into some primal instinct here.

About Malika

Visual Artist - Story teller - Outdoor enthousiast - Lady Yellow
This entry was posted in Thoughts and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s