The Bird Can't Sleep

This is a snippet from a larger documentary—images from a day of studio visits, with artists showing their work in their own spaces, back-to-back. The experience left an impression on me that's hard to describe, truly indescribable. Only poetry and meditations have come from it. After a full day of filming, I was exhausted, as I hadn't slept much in the city the night before. The entire experience felt like living in a dream, reminiscent of my childhood spent around artists and in my father’s studio.

Little things resonated with me, but also big things—the total remembering of the meaning of the arts. I couldn't help but think of the willpower of artists to create their works. It felt like an intrusion, stepping into their studios, like stepping into their minds, but they were so welcoming. There was a sense of honor in witnessing the rawness of their ideas—unfinished works on the walls, struggles laid bare. I attempted to capture it all with respect, but there was also an internal urge to gather as many artifacts as I could. I knew these images would stay with me for a long time.

There was a moment when I had a drink with a group of artists, and in that moment, I felt like I was part of a family—I felt warmth.