Aristidis Lappas
Owl Goddess, 2021
(Oil on Canvas, 200 x 160 cm)
Courtesy the artist and The Breeder, Athens
In reality, the world does not always relate to our own perceptions of it. For all the effort we have put as a species in order to create all these explanatory narratives the result is least to say underwhelming. We try to grasp the world and fit it within our grasp so it will give us hope, a goal or, as it often happens, some arbitrary fanaticism. Yet the Owl Goddess laughs. She sees the little flower sprout turn into ripe-full tree, and as the fruit falls to the ground she sends her birds to tear its flesh, to devour it. To eat it up and to birth it again, this time elsewhere. Oh, The Queen can now see the beauty of growing blossom. And now where do I need to bet, you might find yourself asking: to a flower, oh, so beautiful or to the feeding vultures? But don’t you worry, not the least, for once the prophet cometh, you’ll surely recognise him, and thus he will henceforth explain the bet, explain that it's wise to hold a hand, to raise to mighty flag for it is you who attends the races. Yet once the matches have been spilt, the soil is plenty moistened and as the dust sets over it you’ll hear it once again sounding. It is the owl, she is laughing.