Mihai Florea
The white winged lion, 2019
oil on canvas
80 x 120 cm
31 1/2 x 47 1/4 in
31 1/2 x 47 1/4 in
The artwork was part of the solo show ONIRIX. ONIRIX is a project about how we remember and interpret our own dreams. Nine years ago the artist had three dreams...
The artwork was part of the solo show ONIRIX.
ONIRIX is a project about how we remember and interpret our own dreams. Nine years ago the artist had three dreams in three different nights. He painted these dreams in three parts, each part having three sequences. The results are the nine paintings, every panting representing a scene from the three dreams. Each painting has attached a text written by the artist like in a screenplay.
Scene VI - The White Winged Lion - FM
The lion was slowly reaching the end of the painted wall. I was anticipating with great interest the outcome of this incredible chain of events. And then, finally, the sleepy flying lion reached the end of the fresco and simply passed through the wall into the sky outside, becoming “real”. The huge wings were moving in slow motion, carrying the tired lion forward, while I walked out the bar back in the street. He instantly spotted me moving and, as he raised his head, we both stopped, me in the middle of the very straight road and him in the middle of the light grey sky. He stared straight into my very existence, inspecting every detail of me. His powerful gaze finally stopped on the letter that I was still holding in my hand. That was the moment I realized the letter was, maybe, actually for him all along.
ONIRIX is a project about how we remember and interpret our own dreams. Nine years ago the artist had three dreams in three different nights. He painted these dreams in three parts, each part having three sequences. The results are the nine paintings, every panting representing a scene from the three dreams. Each painting has attached a text written by the artist like in a screenplay.
Scene VI - The White Winged Lion - FM
The lion was slowly reaching the end of the painted wall. I was anticipating with great interest the outcome of this incredible chain of events. And then, finally, the sleepy flying lion reached the end of the fresco and simply passed through the wall into the sky outside, becoming “real”. The huge wings were moving in slow motion, carrying the tired lion forward, while I walked out the bar back in the street. He instantly spotted me moving and, as he raised his head, we both stopped, me in the middle of the very straight road and him in the middle of the light grey sky. He stared straight into my very existence, inspecting every detail of me. His powerful gaze finally stopped on the letter that I was still holding in my hand. That was the moment I realized the letter was, maybe, actually for him all along.
