Afternoon Rest

This makes me think of the city, where old people die alone in apartments and are not found for weeks. Neighbours nod but don't know each other's names. Urban civilisation turns every person into an island.

But here, death is a public event. One person's departure requires the whole tribe to complete it together. From the deathbed to the burial, someone accompanies every step. No one dies alone, and no one cries alone.

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.