#10

*conquistajoe

We all had these green, little plastic GI-Joes and played with them. And stood on them. Barefoot. At least when you grew up as a boy in the 80s and 90s of last century.

First, I thought the picture was finished. A crippled orchidea arranged with an even more crippled sukkulente (yes, even they can dry out..) against my frosted window.

The buds, especially in this framing/arrangement, triggered a memory of my childhood.

Once, someone told me a story from his younger days in Afghanistan.

There was a very small village on the very outside of Khandahars desert.

Every once or then, he visited this nondescripted village.

This one time, he was waiting outside a house to get some stuff for his family. Looking down the alley, he saw an even smaler house - let it be a kind of an old yarn with an ajar door. So inconspicuous, he almost missed looking.

A moment of pure quiet.

And there, in the dark gap of the door, he saw them. Almost shy. Lurking out, to examine the small human being.

Even smaller creatures with outstanding long and thin necks. On the top no head. But an eye. A gentle and curious looking eye. Allmost like a huge leaf of a plant on top of a straw with the gentle expression of a child.

Later on in his life, he painted a big picture of them.

That painting is still hanging on my wall at home.

To come back to my story. I started to see these eyese in the plants and it felt like the sukkulente screamed to me, wanting to assist as a stage for something bigger befor it dies. But it became something much smaller.

A few days earlier, I stumbled across him. Conquista-Joe.

Born to conquer, what he cannot.

After a few honorable minutes with him and my soldering iron (he didn’t sream once!), I had him where I wanted him to be.

This picture/installation has so many layers.

Looks so quiet yet speaks so loud.

At least to me.

*amongus

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