I find great pleasure in watching swans. Their majestic necks, graceful movements, and impressive swimming skills never cease to amaze me. I’m always struck by their size—larger than I expect, given my tendency to imagine birds as roughly the size of chickens. This bias, I realize, is rather limiting, as if I’m envisioning an entire species as part of an unending, homogeneous stream of life, where any death would be collective.
Once, I observed two swans and felt an odd, almost ethereal connection with them. It wasn’t anything dramatic—just a fleeting exchange of glances. Yet this brief encounter has lingered in my thoughts, much like those cherished but often idealized childhood memories. But what about the memories of the present, those that feel distant even though they happened only recently? They are like urban legends whose truth remains elusive, despite their high likelihood. I had a sense of déjà vu with those swan’s eyes, as though I had seen them somewhere before. To this day, I can’t be sure. Perhaps I romanticize this moment because, in their eyes, filled with fear and uncertainty, I saw a reflection of my own inner turmoil.
The textile relief Two Swans on the Lake and the sculpture Swan are parts of the sculptural installation Two Swans Looking for the Third.
I find great pleasure in watching swans. Their majestic necks, graceful movements, and impressive swimming skills never cease to amaze me. I’m always struck by their size—larger than I expect, given my tendency to imagine birds as roughly the size of chickens. This bias, I realize, is rather limiting, as if I’m envisioning an entire species as part of an unending, homogeneous stream of life, where any death would be collective.
Once, I observed two swans and felt an odd, almost ethereal connection with them. It wasn’t anything dramatic—just a fleeting exchange of glances. Yet this brief encounter has lingered in my thoughts, much like those cherished but often idealized childhood memories. But what about the memories of the present, those that feel distant even though they happened only recently? They are like urban legends whose truth remains elusive, despite their high likelihood. I had a sense of déjà vu with those swan’s eyes, as though I had seen them somewhere before. To this day, I can’t be sure. Perhaps I romanticize this moment because, in their eyes, filled with fear and uncertainty, I saw a reflection of my own inner turmoil.
The textile relief Two Swans on the Lake and the sculpture Swan are parts of the sculptural installation Two Swans Looking for the Third.