Freedom is like a chest

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Freedom is a concept whose perception is constantly changing. As a child I saw freedom as an emotion of ultimate autonomy and limitless possibilities, unshackled by any constraints. I conjured metaphors of the wind and creatures with wings: symbols of unrestrained movement in every direction, a state of detachment from anything that felt like a beaten path.

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To explore the changing societal perspective on the definition of freedom, I would participate in an artist-in-residence program in New York City: the city that seemed to perfectly embody the Western vision of freedom. Yet, fate had different plans; the coronavirus emerged, swiftly derailing my plans. I found myself anchored to the familiar: my country, my city, and my home. I was stranded in the confines of my immediate surroundings. The freedom I had once taken for granted, was now a distant memory.

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As I struggled with this abrupt change, I was compelled to rediscover freedom within arm's reach. I focused my lens on the people closest to me: capturing moments within the confines of my studio, my house, or the living spaces of my friends and family. I documented scenes from short walks along the well-trodden paths of familiar places. Freedom, once imagined as an elusive unpredictability, now appeared as a steadfast companion in the repetition of daily life: it revealed itself in the most subtle ways, even in this seemingly unchanging landscape.

 

I came to understand that freedom wasn't solely about escaping the familiar but about finding fresh perspectives within it. It was the art of discovering new intricacies in the everyday, of redefining the boundaries of existence. The metaphorical chest of freedom, pulsating with the rhythmic rise and fall of breaths, now seemed more fitting than my earlier childish symbolism of freedom.