Farewell, Death

For these six months, I had almost no time to make art. Busy caring for him, busy with my own surgery in the hospital, and building a real environment that would belong to my father for his future. After rescuing him from the hospital, I wanted him to live better — so I began building with my own hands: a kitchen that would be his, a new bedroom, a garden.

I thought there was still time.

The farewell to my father was cruel and beautiful — unlike the farewell to my mother.

For six months, the artist stopped all creative work and devoted himself entirely to caring for his dying father. At the same time, he recorded daily life in charcoal: the state of his father regressing to a three-year-old child — the details of feeding, changing diapers, assisting with bodily functions — alongside the process of building a kitchen, a bedroom, and a garden for his father with his own hands.

This is a record that cannot be called a "work." It is the most honest emotional archive.