The Madding Crowd

The Madding Crowd

When I came up with the title, I was so sure. Finally, this three-worded string managed to capture my feelings when I was creating it. 

Unlike most art I make, this project was driven by anger, rejection, pain, despair, fear, subjection and sadness.

At times I felt like I was creating a collective, a paper revolution. I felt hope as I cut out the faces. How powerful can an individual be in a collective. The crowd is fighting for a brighter future.

Other moments I would feel watched, observed. Not by a collective but a collection of individuals. Each their own judgement, their own reflection. You never know what they might think. 

It’s a crowd of individuals, each with a unique print and pattern. Each with their own thoughts, logic and morals. How can we then ever become one to make a change? 

 

I was running out of paper. I started cutting multiple faces from one page. Of course I tried to have them as far apart as possible. For composition’s sake. 

Now when I look at my wall, I feel like God. Plato said that soulmates were one creature, but cut and divided by God as a punishment. I took the pairs apart and tried to mix everything well. I bet he tried to do the same. 

There are groups and factions in the crowd. The red ones don’t like the blue ones. The floral ones believe, the fashion ones don’t. The modern art ones are leftist, while paint smudged ones are alt-right. Interieur design are queer, the newspaper ones have "traditional" preferences. 

 

But you see, none can be described just their pattern or just their beliefs. In the crowd they are divided by colour and the rest of their facets are forgotten. 

But even if I, as God, would hear their prayers and cries, I could never grasp how rich and dimensional they can be. That idea equally pleases and terrifies me. 

More than a hundred faces hang on my wall. Each of them I traced and cut and stuck to the wall. I’ve touched all of them. Does that make us family? What more is family than a promise and a personal touch?

Whether a unified collective or a collection of strangers, the madding crowd will be watching me. Maybe they are my god.