It was just another frosty morning, lying in bed under layers of doona warmed up by body heat and distraction, as I lost hours submerging digitally into a new portal.
Scrolling, pulling in and caressing my eyes was a visual feast called LEXI LAND and her portrayal of a stark and subliminally wonderful universe.
Having taken some distance from those haunting scenes, I muse at how to convey those esoteric visions via words, especially when she has a better run of elucidating on those images herself:
“Optical dreamer your windows are open, the electronic sensors with their crystalline lenses, are drinking the light! Open – shut – open… the backs of your lids are drawn to paint the darkness. Your visual cortex flies like a ghost through your skull, it has always been free… no bone can contain the invisible. Your celestial spark spirals on silken threads, it is in the company of dreams, it sews delicately and without effort through the great unknown.Your axis – like the horizon can not be found, objects are a mirage that bind” —Lexi Land
That was, for instance her beautiful ode to the eyes and the unknown.
HIT PLAY >> Surreal as the Day They Found Me, Lexi Land
Further quotations from Rilke, Duchamp and Kahlo pepper her feed as way of narrating her art, that creative medicine and existential urge that carries little regard for where it’s heading beyond its impulsive expression.
More gorgeous verse, by way of explanation.
“The figure comes into ‘being’ like the seed of a wild vine desperate to breathe… it pushes up gasping for air, it coils and dances around the trunk of an ancient tree, swallowing each moment, it grows until it reaches the endless sky” —Lexi Land
“In a trance, my hand becomes like breath, life-force quivers through me, I am moved by the vibration of an unseen whisper… art for me is like the night, dark and spacious… when day breaks, the light reveals what was always there. The unknown – becomes known and will forever remain unknown.” —Lexi Land
Lexi Land is a 30-ish imp, with a compelling yet delicate presence, offset by wide, deep eyes and a girlish body that appears frequently on her well-scrolled Instagram feed.
To Lexi, her body is the ultimate creative vessel, a carnal resource to be used to shape story or translate feeling, instinctively bending and exposing itself to a demiurgic trance. She unmasks with masks, distorting and projecting, cutting her own moving image from video footage and setting it to impulsive-psychotic sound recordings. Guttural reverberations grow and explode as we witness what seems to be a multitude of births, the artist’s raw and arresting schizophrenic vision building to morph into something holistic, precise and profound.
The Architecture of a Fleeting Moment, Lexi Land.
I wonder, does she ever feel vulnerable or self-conscious exposing herself both physically and emotionally in ode to her art?
“No, I’ve never had that,” comes the assured explanation. “I’m looking in and sharing that inward experience – the best way to describe what I’m trying to say, comes from an interview with René Magritte in which he said: