In this particular case, I gather two ceremonies in the same basket. When the ceremony of light joins in with the ceremony of love, the pair harmonises and duality turns, miraculously, into eleven… since one and one, not one plus one, always makes eleven. The underbelly of a couple conforms a soccer team, an infantry of pain and glory, a group of eleven soldiers capable of killing for a flag, for a king, for a queen.
Romance, says the doctor. A trip to France? A night in Venice?… Champagne after a cozy dinner for two under a protective candlelight? The point of departure is always you and I; it doesn’t matter if you wear a sparkling white dress and I my cleanest dirty shirt. Looking at those candles, I feel I’m a blue ocean in the middle of the desert and you, you, a full bloom garden in January. That’s when we make our miracle. Two can turn into eleven.
Inks & Pencil on paper 31×20 cm
