Life is like a daily game of surreal and ambiguous characters that pass through me and that I need to inscribe. I narrate small moments - at times, pieces that are fundamental to my daily life, friends who accompany me, animals that fly, beings who everyone wants to silence but whose voices roar and images vibrate in the walls I pass. Sometimes I find myself in the shadows, in strange and slim spaces. These images, which appear at every turn, are small narratives, catharses that I must group together and compose to reveal their playfulness and irony.
This game emerges as an impossibility, like a fleeting and impossible provocation; it is a thought, a circular movement, where though at first the hypotheses of the game sequence are inexhaustible, in a loop, the game becomes a closed circuit, and the hypotheses are ultimately exhausted by dissatisfaction and by the collapse of the game itself.
The words are pronounced by silencing them at the outset by drawing, by their mutation and transformation. Therefore, the inscription of a word is a drawing, and the drawing is perhaps a phrase. The first glance cannot be reconstructed; it must be tattooed as if it belonged on the skin.
The Primitivism of the figures emerges as a disruption of the times and as a need for inscription as if the canvas were a mural, an infinite space, or a foldable timetable. The incision of daily habits and the constant appropriation of everything lived, felt, and seen must be immediately inscribed. The shapes become more and more childlike and expressive, and the constantly expressive figures possess a need to assert themselves, some in lucid and phantasmagorical narratives and others in my reality where everything is consumable. As the canvas progresses, these same narratives come together to construct the labyrinths of my own "non-compositions."
(Text: Vera Midões' Statement)