Anna Karakalou
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INNER NATIONAL

INNER NATIONAL In August of 2015, I lost my Father, and with him, my sense of identity.  My father was Greek, my mother Swedish-German, and I was raised back and forth between Chicago and Athens, Greece.  The confusion culminated in this series, which I am calling "Inner National".  This Portrait is the first of the series, which exemplifies my search, my confusion, and my animalistic instincts to deny any feeling of human acceptance.

INNER NATIONAL

In August of 2015, I lost my Father, and with him, my sense of identity.  My father was Greek, my mother Swedish-German, and I was raised back and forth between Chicago and Athens, Greece.  The confusion culminated in this series, which I am calling "Inner National".  This Portrait is the first of the series, which exemplifies my search, my confusion, and my animalistic instincts to deny any feeling of human acceptance.

OUTER NATIONAL In my search to find ME. the Nationality that I was born with, vs the Nationality I was ready to choose, I hunkered down at an Artist's Residency in Labastide, France.  I painted myself into the outside landscape of my bedroom window daily, seeing myself as a part of this wild nature, moreso than I ever saw myself as a part of any one society.

OUTER NATIONAL

In my search to find ME. the Nationality that I was born with, vs the Nationality I was ready to choose, I hunkered down at an Artist's Residency in Labastide, France.  I painted myself into the outside landscape of my bedroom window daily, seeing myself as a part of this wild nature, moreso than I ever saw myself as a part of any one society.

REFLECTION This is another piece painted at my window, in which I am reflected in the glass that separates me from the hills just as much as it melts my visage into it.  There are various bright ink bodies embedded in the hills.

REFLECTION

This is another piece painted at my window, in which I am reflected in the glass that separates me from the hills just as much as it melts my visage into it.  There are various bright ink bodies embedded in the hills.

 
PORTRAIT IN IVY The longer I spent painting at my window as I searched for who I was and where I might belong, the more I felt at one with the flora of the hills surrounding me.

PORTRAIT IN IVY

The longer I spent painting at my window as I searched for who I was and where I might belong, the more I felt at one with the flora of the hills surrounding me.

COMPLICATIONS This image, created from the paper that was protecting my desk, was the last piece to come from my time in France.  She is gazing out at the viewer through her inner turmoil, even as her gaze extends beyond, always searching.

COMPLICATIONS

This image, created from the paper that was protecting my desk, was the last piece to come from my time in France.  She is gazing out at the viewer through her inner turmoil, even as her gaze extends beyond, always searching.

YELLOW This is a digital expression of my confusion.  She is scarred by black tears, her face nothing more than a kabuki mask, ethereal and floating against the flag she has chosen for her own nationality.

YELLOW

This is a digital expression of my confusion.  She is scarred by black tears, her face nothing more than a kabuki mask, ethereal and floating against the flag she has chosen for her own nationality.