Anastasia Pather
Oil paint, Enamel, Gold Leaf

Our memories fail us. For years you can wake up in the same place to the same face and hear the same voice whisper “good morning”, feel the same lips kiss you hello, the same hands hold yours and the same arms hug you goodbye, but it all fades in the end. Even how it feels to be loved in that way, by you. This inevitable impermanence of love and memory is the subject of “Faded” as we fight to complete the face of the muse of the past that has become veiled by the promise of the present.