July 2026


In my very first monthly journal entry, I explore how nostalgia, memory, and Tarkovsky’s visual language shape my studio practice. I dive into why I work with fluid watercolours, unprimed canvas, and exposed armatures—and why I respectfully disagree with Tarkovsky on what art can achieve. 


Core Themes


  • My visual art explores the delicate architecture of the human experience through three core themes: nostalgia, memory, and ‘spilled milk’.

  • Nostalgia—defined as a sentimental longing for a past moment or place—serves as my emotional anchor. I return to it because it captures the quiet ache of distance, allowing me to translate longing into a tangible, sensory form.

  • Connected to this is memory, the mind's active process of retaining, altering, and retrieving past experiences. I am endlessly fascinated by memory because it is rarely fixed; it is fluid, constantly reshaping itself over time, much like the physical materials in my studio.

  • Finally, I engage with the concept of ‘spilled milk’—a motif drawn directly from Andrei Tarkovsky’s striking visual vocabulary. It represents irreversible loss, unexpected disruption, and the sudden breaking of order. I incorporate this theme because, much like Tarkovsky's lingering frames, it confronts us with the quiet beauty and finality of what cannot be undone—forcing a pause, a shift in perspective, and a reexamination of the residue left behind.



Why?

Andrei Tarkovsky’s cinema holds space for the full spectrum of human emotional experience—where sorrow, suffering, and quiet joy exist in a single, unhurried frame. He turns his lens toward childhood not as a distant fantasy, but as a living landscape inhabited by loyal dogs, rural silence, and the continuity of generations anchored to the same plot of earth. Most of all, I am drawn to his obsession with organic textures: the wooden house, which breathes, weathers, and ages alongside its occupants, growing old together. Unlike modern structures of brick or concrete—indifferent walls that merely watch you die—a wooden home carries the living weight of time, decaying gently in harmony with the lives lived inside it. 


August 2026


This month I continued to explore nostalgia and memory.  I am back from a trip to Rome and the Venice Biennale.  What stood out was the Etruscan Museum in Rome and in the Biennale, the many organic shapes and the representation of nature. I visited the Guggenheim Museum again, which has now become a favourite of mine.  This month was about imagination and breaking down personal barriers.

       

Standing


Standing proud in giant ignorance,

I have walked a thousand miles,

Visiting the four corners of knowledge.

Religion

Philosophy

Politics

The Arts

I was blind, the veil was thick;

Layers made of 

EGO

Fiction

EGO

EGO

Fiction

Now,

Standing alone, the veil at my feet,

I see clearly that the four corners

Were only corners,

My exploration continues beyond

The number 4,

And beyond

The corners.


Saffya Alaoui - 2025



Preoccupation 

Man remains the primary protagonist in my current conceptual work, specifically through the lens of humanity’s fraught, deeply intimate relationship with the cosmos and the earth. We move across this landscape carrying memory, time, and inevitable decay, striving to locate our place within an immense universe. My interest lies in capturing those fragile, luminous moments where human consciousness intersects with elemental space—exploring how our personal narrative of loss and persistence mirrors the quiet, cyclical rhythms of the natural world.

To give these ideas room to breathe, my material focus is expanding toward larger sculptures designed to inhabit outdoor spaces and engage directly with the elements. 



Raising to the challenge


At the end of this month, I am undertaking an artist metal course in London to master the structural demands of working with metal rods and wire armatures on a grander scale. I am drawing profound inspiration from Norbert Kricke’s dynamic space-curves, Harry Bertoia’s light-filled spatial tension, and Claire Falkenstein’s organic, intertwined wire structures. Translating these fluid, spatial line drawings into weather-enduring metal will allow the work to stand openly in light, wind, and rain, bridging human gesture directly with the open environment.


Together - sketch in black ink for a metal sculpture

Oleg Yankovsky in Nostalghia (1983) by Andrei Tarkovsky



        O

Ma v  ie


Endormie dans un linceul

Doré et éternel

Je me réveille un matin, 

Happée par la volonté de vivre,

Entendez- vous ma voix?

Abîmée par les années de deuil

Dorées et éternelles

J’ouvre enfin les yeux, 

Frappée par la volonté de vivre,

Entendez-vous ma voix?

Émerveillée par la lumière au seuil

De ma pensée

Mon âme glisse

Lapée par les vagues de la vie

Je marche désormais sur ma voie.


Saffya Alaoui - 2023




Raising to the challenge


Tarkovsky once stated in an interview:

“Cinema has a poetic meaning of its own because there’s a part of life, a part of the universe that has never been addressed at all by other artistic forms and genres. What cinema can do, music and all the other art forms cannot do.”

I disagree with his statement. I have made it my ambition to demonstrate that another visual artistic genre can capture that very same poetic universe.



My work


I am Inspired by Andrei Tarkovsky, Anton Chekhov, Leo Tolstoy, and Arseny Tarkovsky—with one motto in mind: Simplicity without flourish.

Tarkovsky’s cinematic reflections directly dictate how I construct a piece and what I build it with. To give form to memory, I work with raw, unprimed canvas, choosing watercolor precisely because of its unforgiving honesty—it washes across the surface, leaving behind permanent, ghost-like traces of where it has been. I build depth through interlocking layers, balancing deliberate, repeated gestures with the raw evidence of accidental spills and spontaneous bleeds. To bring structure to these fluid washes, I construct armatures with exposed copper wire and metal rods, interweaving them with threads. Presented without a frame, the work remains open and vulnerable to the viewer's space, transforming physical matter into a living archive of process, touch, and lingering presence.

A tapestry or a sculpture of thread is a physical monument to time made visible. Every thread represents a single, repeated moment of human presence—a rhythmic gesture preserved in space long after the hands that wove it have moved on. Unlike a flat image, a woven textile holds memory in its very structure: the warp and weft interlock to trap tension, warmth, and subtle imperfections. As raw fibers, jute, and metal wires entwine, the work acts like an artifact of domestic life or a fragment of an old home, evoking a sensory longing for touch, lineage, and the quiet spaces we once inhabited. It does not merely depict a past moment; it embodies the slow, cumulative weight of time passing.


Two Souls - sketch in black ink

Three Souls - sketch in black ink