On a white thing, paper or anything like that, it is definite that things greater than those in life itself may happen, greater dreams may happen, greater sins and wonders may happen, generally speaking on a white surface real life may happen, the one that does not happen in real life, not even close, which often does not even look like life, it looks like something so unbearable that incites you to seek a white surface, looking for a chance to live on that surface, a place where nobody has set foot before, or arm –in case you are a quadruped–, a chance to live, at least for a little while, like a human, bald, foolish, murderer, demanding, possessive, narcissist, good-looking, asexual, in love and wretched to the bone. I, for example, if there were a God, should have been a man in Far West. Kicking swing doors at the saloons and getting in. Drinking mescal only, and hanging out with pockmarked Harry, the fat-necked, tremendously humorous dwarf. Laughing one-toothed, and spitting on the ground. Fucking whores, and feeling my gun barrel pressing against my ball. Kicking the important people of the shitty town in the shins, and loathing the sheriff. Getting blown away after having been shot through glass. Having only the saddle of my horse between my legs. My face pasted on poles and on barbershops’ storefronts. Being valued in millions. Being WANTED. Being called BLACK”.
– Lena Kitsopoulou
The Breeder gallery presents the first visual art exhibition of Lena Kitsopoulou, undoubtedly the most talented and explosive personality of the Greek theater, whose language is personal, idiosyncratic, tender and harsh.