Εssay by Evita Tsokanta about the work of Jacqueline Lentzou
“And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
There is an eerie sense of time dilation in certain stages of a day. At dawn, before human activity comes through the window or at “a beautiful dusk that enhances everything”. During those times, presence acquires a self-consciousness that renders meaning-making the only noteworthy…