№023 01012024
Klara Kusa
Klara Kusa is an emerging artist and activist, she appreciates techniques of appropriation, experimentation, and up-cycling/recycling of various object and materials.
The artist works with ready-made objects and found materials/photographs in the space of a particular gallery or exhibition space. Her artistic practice is experimental, utilizing the tools and strategies of conceptual and post-conceptual art. In her work, she uses performative techniques of appropriation, while synthesizing several artistic mediums to create site-specific installations.
The artist works with ready-made objects and found materials/photographs in the space of a particular gallery or exhibition space. Her artistic practice is experimental, utilizing the tools and strategies of conceptual and post-conceptual art. In her work, she uses performative techniques of appropriation, while synthesizing several artistic mediums to create site-specific installations.
When peripheral vision is lost, we are all lost. Aren’t we? Or is it that in this moment we can finally see something?
I suffer from the loss of peripheral vision and yet, I am an artist and a photographer. When looking for the cause of my vision problem, doctors told me I have a cyst of an unknown origin that is pressing on my pituitary gland.
Some doctors claimed it is Rathke’s Cleft Cyst, some said it is benign tumor. It took me a long time to deal with this. Because by dealing with this, I had to deal with death that is constantly present in my life.
I am drowning in negativism, self-hate, doubt, madness and even I am not strong enough to deny the routine, the rote, to simplify. No, I go plodding on, afraid that the blank hell in back of my eyes will break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence; afraid that the disease which eats away the pith of my body with merciless impersonality will break forth in obvious sores and warts, screaming “Traitor, sinner, imposter”.
Sylvia Plath
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
I suffer from the loss of peripheral vision and yet, I am an artist and a photographer. When looking for the cause of my vision problem, doctors told me I have a cyst of an unknown origin that is pressing on my pituitary gland.
Some doctors claimed it is Rathke’s Cleft Cyst, some said it is benign tumor. It took me a long time to deal with this. Because by dealing with this, I had to deal with death that is constantly present in my life.
I am drowning in negativism, self-hate, doubt, madness and even I am not strong enough to deny the routine, the rote, to simplify. No, I go plodding on, afraid that the blank hell in back of my eyes will break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence; afraid that the disease which eats away the pith of my body with merciless impersonality will break forth in obvious sores and warts, screaming “Traitor, sinner, imposter”.
Sylvia Plath
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
