Landscape seems to have died out. How far must one go to see a horizon free of asphalt, garbage, and power lines, where one can breathe freely and let one’s eye rest? Suffocating with the omnipresent footmark of man, I want to show the various facets of his influence on nature.

 

  My decorative formula involves the interconnection between two horizons, both tamed and crushed, each highlighting a certain oppressive element in their dweller’s impact. The following excerpt from Vladimir Mayakovsky’s poem “Out of Fatigue” seems to stem from similar feelings:

 

 

 

Earth!

 

Let me cover your balding head with kisses

 

with the rags of my lips stained by others’ gilding