Lotus Rosalina Hebbing

Mammal, a vertebrate animal that was nourished with the milk from the mother when it were young.

Mammilla, nipple of the mammal.

Mamma, where are you.

The vast expanse of verdant fields of the farmlands revealed a seducing realm to Lotus, oscillating carelessly between satisfaction and suffer. The city’s artificiality had hindered her of engaging in natural behavior, but it was in this pastoral haven of undiluted cycles that she could digest the futility of her attempts to hold onto her childhood. She didst realize her hunger was for that which ran far deeper than the fleeting sweetness of her mother’s milk. She simply savored the sensation of being nourished by the land. Crops and carcasses became her comrades, blessing the death of her youth.

Venturing the remote reaches of the liminal space, Lotus invented lullabies that her disappearing parent could have sung to her. There is a suggestion of ambivalence in these songs. Their essence is to lull the awake to distant lands of sleep, but it interprets as a damaged dream. The traces lead back to scapes of sorrow where a melancholic melody alarms what was lost along the way and led to inevitable incompleteness. Uncanny candy covers the blankets that await. The repeating rocking motion of the lullaby reminds of the tender arms that once were wrapped around her, now forever twisted out of shape.

Fantasized folklore, hysteric nostalgia and shriveled youth meet in Lotus’s multi media self portraiture, where the remnants of a music box remain to play a plea to bade farewell to modern metropolis and roam limitlessly the territories of the self.