Kunstverein Braunschweig, 2024
Photos: Patryk Kujawa

Fireflies suffer a tiny, continuous burn directly on their bodies. They ignite their flesh to send morse code-like signals to each other in order to find and mate in the darkness of the night. They speak a very physical language. A language of love and desire. For a fraction of a moment, they reveal themselves, only to disappear again into the shadows of the night. Appearing, disappearing, reappearing, vanishing. In their lingering, luminescent, but only pale and dim, often greenish shimmering matter, they resemble ghosts. Faint lights or wandering souls.

The dance of the fireflies, that moment of grace and dignity that resists the world of darkness, becomes the most fleeting and fragile thing there is. When I think back to my childhood, I remember with longing the warm summer nights when fireflies illuminated my world with their magical glare. Those nights, when countless fireflies created a symphony of light, felt surreal, as if from another world. This world I remember was full of love.

Today such sights are becoming a rarity and children are deprived of this magical experience. With the increasing light pollution of cities their nights are empty of the enchanting presence of fireflies. My oversized ceramic creatures become ominous mythical creatures, evoking both the magic of my childhood memories and the melancholy of vanishing wonder.