Nectar Blood, Diamond Skin
2025, ceramic, installation
Nectar Bloood, Diamond Skin part of Household Items, 2025
06.09.2025 - 28.09.2025
Indecis artist-run, Bucharest
curator: Teodora Talhoș
I’ve been collecting bugs with my daughter all summer long.
At first, they seemed strange and a little unsettling—so far removed from the human experience she’d known until now, or from the insects she’d only seen in illustrations and cartoons. There is so much danger in that small being. It is tiny, yet when you see it in focus, it makes you—the giant—feel small. And smooth. And somehow unnatural.
Summer is now over and we’ve met many. We praise insects for their strength and beauty. We talk about them often, staring at their unreal faces, their delicate designs, and their millions of fangs. Maybe an ideal of being in the world, I tell my almost-40-year-old self and my almost-5-year-old daughter, is to be fierce as biology is fierce, beautiful in a wild and unpredictible way, effortlesly still, grounded in one’s own world.
Whenever we find one, spotting it like a gem in the grass, we stop and gather around, offering it one of our fingers. If it agrees to be seen, we bring it closer, and our eyes perform an impossible trick—seeing it as though through a magnifying glass. Something you could simply take and play with, yet also might not dare to, because it just might bite your head off with its pretty mouth. And it really could. Look at it.
It’s an interesting thought to have while inhabiting the core of your soft, uneven, tired self. There’s not an edge on my body I can name. They are all gathered inside me, like an insideout sea urchin. You might even forget what beauty used to mean to you—that impossible, superficial standard that clung to you for so long, for some reason. What even was it?
All I see now is a microscopic creature of ravaging beauty. I want this.
This thing I’m looking at—this gorgeous beast—has been lurking quietly in the tall grass, in a deep Amazonian shade, suckling peach nectar and eating translucent diamond worms, feeling the scent of the earth in the green sap it has for blood. I can’t help thinking about what it must be like to know nothing of the terrible weight of our silly human world.
Lea Rasovszky, 2025
06.09.2025 - 28.09.2025
Indecis artist-run, Bucharest
curator: Teodora Talhoș
I’ve been collecting bugs with my daughter all summer long.
At first, they seemed strange and a little unsettling—so far removed from the human experience she’d known until now, or from the insects she’d only seen in illustrations and cartoons. There is so much danger in that small being. It is tiny, yet when you see it in focus, it makes you—the giant—feel small. And smooth. And somehow unnatural.
Summer is now over and we’ve met many. We praise insects for their strength and beauty. We talk about them often, staring at their unreal faces, their delicate designs, and their millions of fangs. Maybe an ideal of being in the world, I tell my almost-40-year-old self and my almost-5-year-old daughter, is to be fierce as biology is fierce, beautiful in a wild and unpredictible way, effortlesly still, grounded in one’s own world.
Whenever we find one, spotting it like a gem in the grass, we stop and gather around, offering it one of our fingers. If it agrees to be seen, we bring it closer, and our eyes perform an impossible trick—seeing it as though through a magnifying glass. Something you could simply take and play with, yet also might not dare to, because it just might bite your head off with its pretty mouth. And it really could. Look at it.
It’s an interesting thought to have while inhabiting the core of your soft, uneven, tired self. There’s not an edge on my body I can name. They are all gathered inside me, like an insideout sea urchin. You might even forget what beauty used to mean to you—that impossible, superficial standard that clung to you for so long, for some reason. What even was it?
All I see now is a microscopic creature of ravaging beauty. I want this.
This thing I’m looking at—this gorgeous beast—has been lurking quietly in the tall grass, in a deep Amazonian shade, suckling peach nectar and eating translucent diamond worms, feeling the scent of the earth in the green sap it has for blood. I can’t help thinking about what it must be like to know nothing of the terrible weight of our silly human world.
Lea Rasovszky, 2025