I remember myself as a child constantly moving, constantly traveling, collecting images, different languages, flavors and manners. I remember—so vividly—holding my mother’s hand to cross through the market in Alexandria: the landscapes of gold- and silver-worsted fabrics in the stalls, the gemstones glittering, the brass serving plates, the hand-blown glass and me with a fistful of dates in my pocket. That is where I acquired my first piece of jewelry, a gift from my father.
Through the years my childhood memories recur now and then, without losing any of their colour. I close my eyes and feel on my hands and round my neck the jewelry people wear in Africa, where the smallest thing becomes precious.
I have sought to learn how to look straight into the fire, how to tame metal, which words soothe it, which path connects thought with matter, matter with the subconscious, and desire with reality. I have sought to see how a paper cut-out can rekindle Life if it is joined with others, what it looks like in the light and what emerges from the depths of the soul. I have sought to discover how riddles are solved and which doors can be opened with the keys that have been entrusted to me.
I am still seeking.