Tati Ossa


2012 - 2015

Installation, objects left behind, disposed, forgotten, intervened with industrial enamel.

The Year is 2008: war stories

The country is at war.  Daily news burden me.  Deep inside I know I am not alone.  The constant broadcast of these events force a question/investigation which becomes a book, “Paisajes Caleidoscópicos”. It provides the reader with different viewpoints about the armed conflict. 

What can I do?  I feel through Art.  I act through Art. 

I scavenge and start a deliberate recollection of useless war paraphernalia. Abandoned guns, forgotten bullet casings on the floor.

Suddenly an image of creating on these found objects is in my head, a grand installation.  Then I question myself:  Do I need the actual piece of war brought back to attention?

My question is answered.  Hurt comes from within.  And yes, I have to be true to myself and carry my statement.  But I must be sure.  It is in our conduct.  The tendency to repeat patterns.

Possessing the ability to give unconfined love, why do we hurt?  All this questioning exhausts me. I take a step back.  I watch time go by. 

Release. Let go this pain. Artwork is freed

Consciousness/Unconsciousness.  Life/Death.  Love/Hate.  Recognizing Others/Indifference towards Others.  I chose to recognize, love, and respect life.  This is a conscious decision that gets proven through every waking light.

I wander the streets where discoveries happen. I have been collecting unused objects I find on this path.  These objects capture my imagination, becoming objects of affection.  I began to paint them with this image that came back to my hands: a rose. This particular rose that has no stem. 

Obsessive repetition of a red rose. 

This rose, this rose, this rose...  

The softness of her petals, the ravishing fragrance that belongs to her only, and her purpose here based solely on her color.    

I set the stem aside, thorns and the unintended hurt they cause. 

This is how Roses “R’ Us is born and continues developing itself.  Objects find their way into my life and my Art.  Some are still waiting for my hand to act upon them.  Others have already become art pieces willing to be shown.  Exhibited in an ample space, in which every corner gets saturated with various objects covered in black paint and “decorated” with my repeating obsession (this rose... this rose... this rose...).

                                                  These red roses speak volumes of love…  Passionate love.