Hery Sudiono

My artistic journey started from the sandy backyard of our secluded house where I first drew shapes and stories. But the house itself is very vague and its shape is no longer clear in the memory. What remains are more of an abstract memories of a moody land that refuses to be forgotten. In it, there are strange shadows of myths and old stories that influence the world view, which survive in various forms that seems may change.

Today, trying to distance myself from the world, being at a height, one would encounter the busy of city below as an almost illusory triviality. People passing by are mere dots, nameless and easily erased. It’s almost comforting contradictory; a place and moment when a person steps out awhile from the world and finds out the undying shadow resurfaced in between the daily routine and busy hours. A dream, faces or even scars that never actually leave, forever lingered as silent companion.

But it also gives a sensation of one's own fragility as an isolated, uninvolved existence; a strange sensation that challenge the claim that every element of the universe is a network of interconnected organisms.