“A tulip in a glass resists growing, like me: falling again and again into the traps I myself have set. Insisting on what doesn’t work, yet finding, from time to time, a flicker of warmth.”
— Mara Faúndez
A Tulip in a Cup
I buy flowers to put them in water, even knowing they won’t last. I do it anyway: I know they’ll wither, but I insist. Why not just buy dried flowers and be done with it? Because letting go isn’t that easy. Patterns have thick walls, with an overwhelming, almost claustrophobic weight.
A tulip in a glass resists growing, like me: falling again and again into the same traps. Insisting on what doesn’t work, yet finding, from time to time, a spark of warmth.
It’s also about being a girl, about hiding in innocence. But I’m an adult; I know there are things I should’ve learned, and still, I keep playing, I keep repeating—maybe not to take life so seriously.
It doesn’t seem fair, it doesn’t seem right: I’d only put down roots for you. It’s not about love. It’s about the difficulty of letting go, about the soft comfort of staying where one is.
Mara Faúndez, artist
April 2025
