Orpheus, Messenger Between Worlds

Orpheus, Messenger Between Worlds
2022

Set of 25 drawings by Céli Lee, housed in a one-of-a-kind artist book, 25 pages (plus front and back cover).

Project notes:

"A mild cooling wind goes through your shirt, feeling for the heart.
Apple trees and cherry trees laugh silently at Solomon.
They blossom inside my tunnel. And I need them
Not to forget but to remember."

— Tomas Tranströmer

On the last day of August, I remember three moments of the summer — me in nature, nature in summer, summer in the city. As memories set in, these moments gradually changing into me.

I

On the last day of August, I walked down to Arlington Square Gardens to listen. Blooming Fuchsia hung down shyly, not sure whether she wanted me to take her hands or not.

Many dialects of green, embracing each other under the sun. Their burning passion left a dancing shadow over my face, like embroidery.

Tilia Oliveri’s winged fruits, each descending its own spiral staircase, upon landing, each gave earth a gentle kiss.

II

Water glitters between the trees, nameless fishes in the pond, swam at ease from one patch of lilies in the north to the other patch in the east, back and forth.

Each drew its own path in the form of an arrow on the waveless pond. The multiple arrows intersect with each other, after their brief encounters, each moved on, following its own destiny.

III

The boulevard in the sunset, covered with plane tree foliages. Layer after layer, gold and brown.

A little girl walking, alone.

Her footsteps generated a constant cracking sound over the fallen leaves. Stimulated by it, she changed from jogging to running. Each cracking sound stitched with another, forming a chain of cracking fireworks.

Suddenly, the little girl stopped, bent down, grabbed an armful of foliages, and with all her strength, she threw them high into the air, as if the leaves were pigeons and she was setting them free.

The dried out foliages shined like gold leaf under the last beam of the sun.

No more falling leaves, The sun’s gone down already.

Céli Lee, London, 1 September 2022