Olya, can we replace the word "trash" with something softer? Because somehow the art of garbage... ⠀ ⠀ I thought about it a lot and I realized this: ⠀ 1️⃣ It took me long enough to complex the fact that a grown-up aunt glues papers instead of "getting a normal job". And now, during this period of my life, I give myself the right to do what I like, no matter how it looks from the perspective of success. It's important for me to call things by their names and it's important for me to defend my choice of the hardest path: to do not the most obvious art, but what fills me. ⠀ ⠀ 2️⃣ When I take old things, rags, papers, I take the shadow part of myself. Through the process of creating them, the glamorous materials, the endless layers in my collages, it's as if I'm saying to myself: "yes, you can be imperfect, your body and life can be different from pictures in movies and magazines. It's as if I'm parting with the illusions imposed on me, becoming myself, and when I write about it and put up (oh God) pictures out of the garbage for sale, I take my position to the world and declare my strength ⠀ This is important for me. Shall we discuss it? What do you think?