«No one can be sure that his body is not a garden that the earth itself created to give its own names to your»
The aphorism "art requires sacrifice" seems at times so obvious that it has never been challenged. Sacrifice plays an almost fundamental role in art, thus confirming that in culture as a whole, sacrifice is the engine of life. Unlike other aspects of life, in art the victim is most often the creator himself. Artists have often been victims of power, of the crowd, but most often victims of their own art.
The garden is a man-made part of nature, the condition of which is directly depends on how we, the creators, dispose of it. Man, his inner world, is presented as several self-sufficient, but complementary worlds - "gardens" to which we address when we know ourselves: Memory, Body, Imagination, Thought.
Lucien Becker
Garden of Memory
Voices we'd rather not hear.
It is a space that recounts the anguish of the spirit and the barriers that one erects for oneself in an attempt to forget certain experiences. But they are necessary for the artist to create his work. He needs to sacrifice his cozy, enveloping pain, his protective shell in order to discover his true feelings, his true self.
touch here to remembering
Body Garden
Life of the body. The being of the body. The body as a source of inner strength.
This is the space where the essence, freed from the shell, begins to form and find its "voice". The inner self, lost in the dark corners of memory, emerges into the light.

The body as a source of stories. The body can tell stories of pain, of human strength and memory. The body continues to live a cruel invisible life: it yearns for the honesty of Human Being. The body is material, the body is a cult, in times of no cult. The body is history. The body is the Abandoned Garden.
Garden of Imagination
In this "garden," the essence of the creator, having broken out of memories and formed its own voice, begins to help the artist create the beautiful.
Garden of Vulnerability
*Color: Yellow
The other, the third, the observer, the world is the observer itself, the world is the spectator itself. The spectator is the wanderer who is between the two, walking through the desert.
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