"I am going home to eat mulberries from the tree” is a gentle manifesto.
Oh, if only cool resolutions melted in the sun, while warm ones scattered like the tiniest seeds I carry, unnoticed, lying in a ripe fragrant field. Oh, how I would then exude fragrance. Yet, I never thought of those seeds; they are but briefly on me. And when I go home to eat mulberries from the tree, oh, how it smells. Especially when the rain is just beginning, and it’s clear that everything will end. I haven’t decided yet when to go for the mulberry tree, oh, and that decision I haven’t made.
From my earliest childhood, the act of eating berries from either a tree or a bush has been one of my most cherished and deeply beloved activities. The mulberry in the parents’ garden, with its milky sweet aftertaste, has become a support, maternal in its nature. The body is nourished by the intention to return to the ritual, while recognizing the time required for the earthly cycle to be completed. Trees and bushes do not bear fruit throughout the year; the steps, rains, birds, sun, explosions and gatherings may not fit into concrete decisions.
The project reflects on personal anchors and subtle connections during the period of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. In times of losing the sense of basic security, the confidence of a new quality arises, a feeling bordering on total trust/surrender/immersion, which allows you to be sensitive to the elemental space. A state where the difference between intention and decision becomes clear. Planning and decision-making are painful to contemplate without irony, while the intention tastes like tranquility, gaining the same life force as the sensory experience that forms the body. In the realm of intention, doubt melts away; it is breathing as a body, a flexible monument, quiet, “that which matures,” sprouting, not at all fragile.
