Homes

2022–2023
acrylic on sololite
various sizes

The series of paintings "Homes" is a continuation of my previous series called " Houses". It is a series of still lifes with objects of daily use. These tables filled with plates, toothbrushes, teapots, or foodstuffs have become metaphors for a really essential feeling—the feeling of "home".

I have intentionally removed figures from the compositions, even though the human being plays a major role in the formation of the mentioned feeling. I paint the objects that remain after the people; we can only presume that they had a good time together.

The feeling I mentioned is something that has been with us since we were children, when we first held a crayon in our hands, and so with shaky motor skills and an uncut crayon, the child drew the house, mom, dad, car, the tree we go to play by, and the pond we go to swim in. And so, perhaps without knowing it, we captured our safety and peace, our home. A person grows older, but they carry the word "home" with them all the time. Home is no longer just mom and dad, home becomes siblings, classmates, friends, lover, partner and last but not least, the person themselves. Home is no longer just the homeland: the house, the car, the pond, and the tree—but it is also the town, the swans and the Vltava river, the meadow where a person goes to get out of their sadness, the favorite pub where they go with their friends, the beer, the mug of warm tea that a person appreciates more the older they get, the cards and chess, the breakfasts and dinners, and the places all over the world where they have left a piece of their heart.

It's smells, feelings, and memories. It's a sleeping bag, an old sweater, and a familiar hug. A hug in which you can cry and a hug in which you can laugh. It's the way he cuts vegetables. Her pumpkin soup, her sense of romance, the shade of her red hair, and the number of freckles on his back. It's the stars, the fire, and the morning dew in the grass. It's the path you walk to get the daisies. Home can be the whole big world, or the whole world compressed in a a single instant.

You learn that home has no boundaries. That the word means something completely different to each person. Sometimes a home just is, sometimes it needs to be built, and sometimes it's just not there. But in one thing, home is the same for everyone—we need it.

After dinner, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

House of glass, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Lemon lemonade from my Mommy, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Milk with honey, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Tea Intoxication, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 55 cm

Coming home, 2023, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Lovers, darlings and watches on the night table, 2022, acrylic, oil pastels on sololite, 40 ×60 cm

Your toothbrush on my bathroom sink, 2022, akrylic on sololite, 24 × 17 cm

The light in the teapot Pt. 1, 2022, acrylic on sololite

The memory printed in the food stuff, 2023, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Letters of love, 2023, mixed media on cardboard, 26 × 35,5 cm

Tea and cacao on our clay stove, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Beer and chessboard, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 42 × 32 cm

The soup from Věra, 2023, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

How I feel lying alone in the grass, 2022, acrylic on sololite, 24, 5 × 21 cm

The light in the teapot Pt. 2, 2023, acrylic on sololite, 40 × 30 cm

Dora Hlinková

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