Yes, of course I heard through an open window a boy I knew being hit again, but the overall picture compared with today was calmer. Endre, as I called him, used to look minutely at all the works. He said: "One has to see."After a long while my mother would go buy a newspaper and a chocolate bar, that I was hoping she would share with me. And then I was sent to go in and try to get Endre out of the gallery. I knew he would see me as nothing but a child and I did not speak English. They rushed towards the reception and explained that I was quite used to it.I would stand there pulling the hem of his coat for ages, trying to get his attention. Endre wanted to meet with Jacob Bornfriend, his best friend. When I was approaching the end of my tour I saw a guard with a lot of buttons on his coat. I tried to evade him by making a round towards the walls, but he came closer and closer, until finally he of course caught me, – and carried me straight down to the reception. The guard did not believe that something like that could be, – a child looking at art on her own. He said he understood why I asked that but continued that some areas should be, not so detailed. " His reply was that one has to know within when to stop. After Endre had passed away, I could feel his presence there, – strongly. Sometimes they disappear, sometimes they pop up in an unexpected place.
On many occasions I would have liked to ask him something.
However, strangely, in those things that I do remember, I already have the answer to my questions.
From what I understand, there is a dream, that is not that uncommon among those who have lost someone close like a parent or a spouse.
All of a sudden, the disaster has set in; how to save it all, – that, which remains?
These images that will unfold in this catalogue befell me, please read: the responsibility for them befell me.
Quite a few of them never shown to the public before. As I know about it I feel an obligation to honour their courage. I remember him saying that one has to be able to judge the work by oneself as it might be that one stands alone.
Those who hid these pictures risked their lives for them. There is a painting with my birth date as the title, materializing that moment in time. He was capable of determining himself whether a picture worked or not, and was not dependent on other's viewpoints during work.
My father had the artistic ability to tap into a greater consciousness while maintaining his own essence and questioning mind.
What artistic intelligence means is that one has the ability and the trained skill to use one's mind and experience during the process of creation.
And that state of the mind is essential within the artistic process. It is a concept which I have never encountered within post-structuralist theory.
They were not made for me, they were made for the world, I have known this since I was a child.