Para mí, el placer de unir lo que está separado en el mundo exterior, puede empezar uniéndose en el espacio mental y puede continuar en el espacio físico y material.
La casa puede ser un gran escenario para experimentar ese placer personal porque ¿Qué es una casa si no una extensión de nosotros mismos? Un espacio de autonomía física y también un espacio íntimo, con secretos, con anhelos y recuerdos que sólo hacen sentido al habitante.
. Despite the fact that I am a believer of past lives, I only have a very clear one: in a lucid dream, I saw myself in Japan, in the dream there was a traditional Japanese house near the beach, a husband in a messy kimono shedding tears over a small table, a death and the ocean. And maybe that's why I keep je ne sais quoi about that culture. Possibly for that reason and the coincidences, unconsciously, I started a collection of Japanese tea cups, first one, then another, then a teapot and yesterday, when I threw away the water from those red flowers that I brought home two weeks ago, I realized that they reminded me of autumn in Osaka, so I decided that they will stay in that space, in that corner, over that midcentury bookcase, which at the same time has a vibe of those sliding doors called fusuma. In a way, I feel that even that piece of furniture supports the stage, the game, the idea, the sense of autumn in Japan. I find very beautiful and pleasant exercise that everything that is equal and vibrates the same is united harmoniously, things that are living together in time, between the four walls that I call home.
For me, the pleasure of uniting what is separated in the outside world, can begin by joining together in the mental space and can continue in the physical and material plane.
The house can be a great scenario to experience that personal pleasure because what is a house if not an extension of ourselves? A space of physical autonomy and also an intimate space, with secrets, with desires and memories that only make sense to the inhabitant.