I spent my childhood on the streets, running around and looking for adventures. The streets were deserted on weekdays. The milk tanker came to our backyard. The milkman was a drunkard and he often fell asleep at the milk tanker tap sitting on a chair under the hot sun. Once, I saw him sleeping and I decided to steal a bit of milk. I climbed up on the top of the tank and opened the big lid, which looked like a submarine lock. The tank had already been half empty. The switched-on engine of the car was giving ripples to the white surface of the milk. Looking at small dairy waves through cover window, I forgot why I had climbed up there in the first place. The opened cover looked like a fantastic portal which has pushed me to another dimension. Time has stopped. I was staring, the view was hypnotizing. My imagination started to create stories based on these small waves. I thought of my grandmother for some reason. I never saw pictures of my grandmother as a young girl. I often was wondering how she would look, how she was laughing and moving, how she met my grandfather. These thoughts had got into my head. Many years later I couldn’t help but looking for the material embodiment to these memories.
Few years ago I was taking pictures of a girl. During the shooting, this story came back into my mind. Suddenly I realized that this girl could play my grandmother’s role at her young age. This is how this white painting representing my dairy memories was created. It has my grandmother’s name — Heyransa.

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