Before there was light… On the MYSTERY of the beginning. Origo.

Not everything that is still invisible is absent.

There are moments when it is worth pausing on the threshold of what we do not yet know.

Before the first sign appears.

Before something takes shape.

Before we are able to name what we feel.

There is a space in which everything remains a mystery.

We do not yet know what will emerge from it.

We know neither the form to come nor the path we will have to follow.

And yet perhaps that is exactly when the most important thing begins.

“Let there be light.”

Genesis 1:3

These words keep returning to me with remarkable force.

Not only as a story of the beginning of the world,

but also as a question about everything that is born in hiddenness – before it becomes visible to others.

What exists before light appears?

When we look at the earth, we see its surface.

We do not see the seed resting deep beneath it.

We do not know when its shell will crack, or what form the life within it will take.

And yet something already exists.

Perhaps it is the same with certain moments of our lives.

Before we find an answer, before we see a new path,

before we feel we can move forward again, we sometimes need to go deeper

• to a place where nothing is obvious yet.

Depth does not always mean the end.

Sometimes it is the space from which light becomes visible.

ORIGO - a painting about what remains hidden

In my abstract painting, light often becomes the point towards which the composition leads.

With ORIGO, though,

I wanted to stay closer to the very mystery of the beginning.

At the centre of the painting a dark, organic form appears.

It is surrounded by pale, textured surfaces, silvery traces and subtle earth tones.

The matter seems both raw and delicate,

as if it were hiding something that cannot yet be fully recognised.

I did not want to give this form a single, closed interpretation.

It may call to mind the earth, a hidden seed, the beginning of life.

It may remind us of what remains unspoken within us

• of possibilities we do not yet know, and of changes whose first signs we cannot see.

For me, ORIGO is an encounter

with mystery, life, presence, the path and light.

It does not tell a ready-made answer.

It leaves room for what has yet to reveal itself.

Light does not always come first

While creating this painting, my thoughts returned to the words of Genesis.

To the beginning, in which light is not yet visible, and yet is about to be.

I do not want to tell viewers what they should see in ORIGO.

I believe art can be a space of encounter – including with what we cannot put into words.

That is why silence, presence and light remain so important in my painting.

Not as ready-made symbols to be read in a particular way,

but as an invitation to one’s own experience.

Sometimes a painting moves us before we understand why.

Sometimes we linger in front of it, though we cannot name what draws us.

And sometimes it is enough to allow ourselves a moment without an answer.

Before something becomes visible

I imagine a seed hidden in the earth.

The world does not know it yet.

It does not see its shape or the flower to come.

It does not know what colours will appear one day,

or whether its scent will make someone stop for a moment.

But the earth keeps its secret.

And perhaps that is what is so remarkable about a beginning:

not everything has to be visible already in order to exist.

Not everything has to be named in order to have meaning.

Before life becomes visible, it exists as a mystery.

Before light shows the way, something is already present.

Perhaps that is why we recognise some beginnings only in time.

Only when we look back do we see that what seemed like uncertainty

was the beginning of a new path.

And that what remained hidden had long carried within it the possibility of blossoming.

I invite you to a personal encounter with the painting ORIGO at Atelier BWK.

Not to find one right answer in it,

but to stay for a moment with what is still invisible.

ORIGO - abstract painting, 100 × 80 cm, from the ABUN collection

I do not call you.
I simply am.
I leave a trace of colour… so that something in you may find its way.
Beata | Haptic painting, Atelier BWK