The wind blows on my mother

"The wind blows on my mother” is a story born from my desire to snoop around in an unknown country that turned into unambitious search for my mother.

It’s the tale of a knot, of an umbilical cord, of a wind knot, a knot that will, eventually, turn into a hat.

It’s a project that went back and forth, of numerous desires, multiple retreats and homecomings. It’s a story about women, wild children and about a piece of land that’s all steppe, branches and thorns.

In 2017 I went to Latin America for the first time with little understanding of what I looking for, it was only after a series of accidental encounters and benevolent omens that it all started to align in one direction, my mother. I realized that what I needed to do was to draw some sort of emotional map of my search for a mother figure.

Mother as archetype, not as in flesh and milk, mother as a sense of a belonging to a place, as heritage, as a home, mother as cradle and grave.

We can be lucky and have in our lives someone that matches with what we yearn for or we can get lucky finding something different.

My mother doesn’t meet my idea of a mother so I went to look for that idea somewhere else and so far I’ve found it all in a country.

My mother is a country.

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