Of the marrow of my bones,
oils firing the wicks of my imagination,
and the pedantic, ambitious precision of my left hand.
Dear starved one,
In this letter, I could have told you about my early childhood and upbringing, days in a gothic, alchemist Prague, and my early attraction to mystery and darkness. Flying from the nest and falling like a baby bird. How exciting the fall is! I will, however, skip these sentimental, early years of my life.
2015 Los Angeles
When a bird falls from its nest, it was either pushed by a cuckoo or it was an accident. I choose to label my goodbye to the Czech Republic as neither. I don’t believe in escapes or endings, only in goodbyes.
I moved to Los Angeles with an owl's eyes. That is the place, the origin of my redness. The morbidity of glamorous red carpets, filthy pavements under my ruby heels, the facade of the days, and misty Junes. My red veils.
As much as I cherished Los Angeles, my resistance to daisy dukes and sandy beaches grew into a marble sculpture. And yet, I find myself returning for more to this kingdom of paradox.
2020 Munich
To deepen my technical devotion to painting, I relocated to Munich. After studying in local institutions, my thirst wasn’t quenched, nor was it meant to be, and my hunger wasn’t satisfied. The more I ate the hungrier I became for knowing and doing.
The hunger was not starvation, I can’t be fed.
The more disciplined I became, the more hybrids my brain and hands produced. I painted until oils became the perfume of my mind, drew until my left palm turned into fossil, and my hands began to resemble insects trapped in resin with only red claws standing out.
On the contrary, my studio and clothes were always spotless. I believe in mastery over a medium, precise creation with cleanliness, sharpness and intent of an alchemist and a Michelin star chef.
2023 Phantasmagoria
My obsession with physical anomalies and metaphysics grew into a defined vision. I was consumed by the human form, the cosmos and its connection to geometry and mathematics, while uncovering the chemistry of old magic. Ice skating with a brush on a surface built like an ivory ice rink, grinding precious pigments, studying their relations and their poisonous, wild tempers. Transforming the finest fragments of earth with honey oils into red, luminous, and breathing gemstone rooms.
My hybrids are born within these chambers. These are Phantasmagorias.
2025 Florence, Rome, Milan
Florence became my pilgrimage in search of further answers. A city so profoundly driven by beauty and devotion, breathing through stone and pigment. No less theatrical than the Hollywood red carpets, yet quieter. I searched through academies, libraries, workshops, collecting fragments of knowledge and left, still, hungry. Shortly after, I entered the studio of Maestro Giuggioli as an apprentice. How sacred it is to be passed on more wisdom. It resembled the feeling of walking into a cathedral filled with whispers only you can hear. I partially relocated to Rome and Milan, connecting fragments of my knowledge and studies together like a stained glass window, rebuilding them into a process.
The formation of divine jewels
The sacredness of each step within my process is the birth of light itself.
Now, be aware that I compare myself to the Sun in function, as I create the light and become one with it. I allow light to exist, to bend, to breathe, and to preserve itself forever in each polished glass sheet made of oils, until the final work resembles a gemstone relic.
These chambers of light and glass veils are where my hybrids breathe.
Each work in its final form carries its own frequency, vibration, scent, and atmosphere.
They exist as the deepest, most luminous jewels formed and cured by the most powerful and unavoidable force known to us: time.
I have been writing this manifesto for five days, therefore what remains before you
is the pure, distilled essence of my intentions, visions and ambitions.
Devoured truly,
Alina Martina Lewis
