(THE)IMAGE


    Heavy shadows they wear
    and paint on cheeks that change
    radiant, strange

    stones of value decorate their look
    tempting your tired mind

    with no future, no mercy

    their obscure smile burns the serpent’s vision
    carefully with knowledge and pleasure 


    You fought hard and became weak
    fell on the ground like the air 
    cold and invisible 

    while they were watching you 

    from their tall golden chairs

     

    You hear them sing at the dawn
    the song of melancholy they sing 

    when all the birds are gone:
    “If you would really know me
    you would know 

    that I have one face only
    desires are my fires
    I want you

    I don’t care about other admirers
    I wish you would want me too”

     

    How many looks they have in your dusty books
    How many allegories, poems, stories
    How many names, lives
    How many answers, how many lies

    If you would really know me
    you would know

    that I have one face only

             

                           - ivet butler

    ANCIENT ABSTRACTION OF WOMAN: The idea of Ancient Abstraction of Woman occurred to me while I was reading about ancient goddesses and queens and discovering fascinating information about them and the times they lived in. I was trying to imagine their appearance, behavior and feelings to the point that I decided to create my own goddesses, warriors and queens of those ancient times, all with their irresistible eyes and decorated mainly with peacock feathers.
    Ancient Abstraction of Woman is a mixed media project. In the darkroom, I printed multiple images of one or only a few expressions of each model, then I created a different look for each piece by adding different elements to it with printing, solarizing, painting and collaging.



    Fearless, alluring
    the world admires them
    glorifies them
    keeps them alive
    Goddesses, Queens, Warriors 

    of the ancient times who love, hate

    committing crimes

    reaching for swords
    with no waste of words

    dancing with flowers
    on the edge of the highest towers
    with their hearts open
    and lips calling for a kiss
    they are your morning bliss