Acrylic on canvas 80x80 cm.
There's something bubbling. Actually I think it's boiling. And it comes from deep down in the soil. A giant roar.
Because our plan did not work out, did it? What did we get out of it all?
We got busy. And we got money, performance and competition. Blipblop robot, is it going well?
In the meantime, we threw out our conscience, along with all the shit we've gathered. Soon we'll be drowned by the world oceans who have given up holding on it all together. The shit. And the life.
But what became of the soul? Can we even recognize it if it shows up? For a brief moment where we are not caught up in market forces and the external, can we recognize that we came from nature and that nature and animals are as alive and soulful as ourselves?
No, that's probably where it all went wrong. If we can no longer recognize it in ourselves, then how can we, in the world around us?
Myriads of egos running a race, to forget their inner emptiness, must fall. Down in the soil and be reborn in the spring. And this time not with the head first, but with the heart.
We need to come home – and become ourselves. Otherwise we will kill ourselves and the Earth. It takes a mother to save it. A real primordial mother from earth.
