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Grace (2023)
JENA ARGENTA
poem, prayer, translation, ink made from guns, chalk, metallic acrylic and gel, on paper
32 1/4H x 24 1/8W in (81.9 × 61.3 cm) (framed)
What does it mean to cultivate a white rose in a context laced with thorns, forever wars and violent cruelty; one that is simultaneously multi-lingual, geographically and historically layered and moving at the speed of light? I use ink made from recycled guns (here in the underpainting) as a reminder: If there’s another world, it’s inside of this one, says Surrealist Paul Élaurd. Grace, like this rose, is a counterintuitive proposition at best. Like leadership, when it’s true and shared, grace emerges between reckoning and aspiration; between archive and love letter. This work is a way of circling and asking: What does? and What does it require of me? Here I use reflective materials and language as sediment, not just sentiment, to invite you to do the same. Because as Leonard Cohen sings — here in conversation with Martí in thin grey overlay — now it's too late to turn the other cheek.
poem, prayer, translation, ink made from guns, chalk, metallic acrylic and gel, on paper
32 1/4H x 24 1/8W in (81.9 × 61.3 cm) (framed)
What does it mean to cultivate a white rose in a context laced with thorns, forever wars and violent cruelty; one that is simultaneously multi-lingual, geographically and historically layered and moving at the speed of light? I use ink made from recycled guns (here in the underpainting) as a reminder: If there’s another world, it’s inside of this one, says Surrealist Paul Élaurd. Grace, like this rose, is a counterintuitive proposition at best. Like leadership, when it’s true and shared, grace emerges between reckoning and aspiration; between archive and love letter. This work is a way of circling and asking: What does? and What does it require of me? Here I use reflective materials and language as sediment, not just sentiment, to invite you to do the same. Because as Leonard Cohen sings — here in conversation with Martí in thin grey overlay — now it's too late to turn the other cheek.
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