“Seriously playing, Marya Kazoun”
Tonight is the full moon; trapeze artists crash and break their necks.
Looking at you makes me want to slap you. I see the child in you. It is still an inexcusable behavior.
Maybe she doesn’t have enough money to seek a second opinion.
The onions are drying up.
The absence of pleasure makes me clumsy.
The idea of couple has become parasitic. If you don’t know this word I think you should look it up.
Manipulation, treason, backstabbing and beggaring are the specialty of some. They have become yours. Smearing your entrails onto once white, milky, naked pure flesh is condemnable.
Rise! Rise from your apathy and act. Speak! Tell about the unspoken. A man’s innate cruelty is to hide when he is asked. Answer! Answer to her, address her! Tell her the lies she heard before. Promise her what you cannot, and always know that you are not.
Have you heard about ‘extra human beings’? I just have to be ready and the men will look at me. They will read my eyes and read my passions and my sorrows, they will see the scars and the untold. They will ask and I might speak. I am drowning but I am still alive! Alternately still then moving in a turbulent manner. I don’t see your hand anymore. ‘He is no longer there’.
You have been communicating a sinister chill by means of a detached careless attitude. Thank you.
Gustav can’t see but Gustav can read. He can only read brail. Gustav can listen but Gustav can't hear. He can only hear noise. It’s a shame. Redemption is not your thing. You still have little time. Tell me! Tell me.
I once had great expectations.
I look for you dad; you are married to my mom. I look for you everywhere I seek your color your scent, your beauty, your wisdom and your lion heart. You can crush me with a word.
Fear paralyses and locks one up like a convict. I dream of my daughter ‘Warda’ but I am forbidden to make her, she is four years old. My brother saw her in his dream one night but he didn’t know where she came from. She told him she was my daughter.
I want to tell you more but I am bound by secrecy.
I want to have it all. I know there are too many ‘I’ but I am torrential today. I forgot to tell you that April is the cruelest month. Do you love me?
Marya Kazoun is a Lebanese/ Canadian Artist born in Beirut in 1976.
Fleeing the war with her family, she lived in Switzerland and spent her teenage years in Montreal, Canada. She completed degrees in Interior design, Interior architecture and Fine Arts at LAU in Beirut. She has developed the core ideas of her quest with painter Arwa Seifeddine.
She has been living in NYC for the past 5 years, where she also completed her MFA in Fine Arts at the School of Visual Arts.
Kazoun has produced a large body of work from Installations, performances to drawings and video.
She works diligently on her artistic visions striving to consistently venture on new grounds. She domesticates the dark using Marya friendly materials.
Kazoun’s works have been shown in numerous exhibitions around the world. She had a solo show at the 51st Venice Biennale and was recently invited to show her work at the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts.