The child holds the book against their chest as if clinging to a promise. "Dear Hope" is not just a title, but an invocation—a desperate attempt to grasp something that keeps slipping away. The gaze, serious and probing, seems to carry a weight that transcends childhood. The body, constructed from fragments of paper, is not uniform—it's a stitching of stories, pieces of overlapping realities, as if identity is shaped by layers of past and future. In the background, bookshelves rise as symbols of knowledge, but also of distance. The chalkboard presents an unsettling question: "Dear Hope, will you return my calls???" Hope here is not certainty, but absence—something sought without guarantees. In the juxtaposition of materials, colors, and textures, the artwork transforms into a space of waiting and resistance. The child remains there, caught between expectation and uncertainty, while hope—always fragile—goes unanswered.
Hage
