Lost shoes

I had to search on the inside
when I started talking to lost things

I have once lost my glasses at the sea. I’d forgotten about them and dove deep as if I had nothing on my face. I've spent some time hopelessly looking for them, but many years of nearsightedness and an unusual amount of shells on the bottom of the sea had made me give up. My blurry vision doesn't allow me to have any definition or outline. Everything becomes homogeneous, mixed, identified only by amorphous colors. I sat on the sand wondering what to do as I got used to my true vision. Losing at sea is more complicated because of its movement. Not on earth, the things that get lost stay there. Sometimes for days or weeks. 

oil on canvas, 2021

When I was six years old, I lost my favorite sneakers. It was near my grandfather's house. It rained a lot. We said goodbye and I arrived home with only one shoe. The other one was gone. The fact of having only half of a pair further highlighted this lack. What could I do with just one shoe? To this day I don't know how I lost it, one of the many mysteries I carry with me. A sneaker doesn't matter, but this one was shiny, with a peculiar zip. I think of its shine and the memory takes me straight to my grandfather, who coincidentally also shines somewhere now. 
I've always been interested on things that are incomprehensible.Imagining where my sneakers or my grandfather are, or all the things I've left lying around somewhere without realizing it. I think about the possibility of the two being together, in a luminous abyss filled with the voids that were left here. I think of people who think about the loss, the search, the longing, the relief there is in getting rid of something, sometimes. I lose sleep thinking about them.

oil on canvas, 2021

Yesterday I dreamed of neon lights reflecting off a wet ground after rain. The lights were moving and changing colors and I couldn't stop looking, it felt like a show and I was the only spectator. I was worried about something, but I couldn't take my eyes off that floor, I wanted everyone to see it. I feel that when we lose something, it turns into those sparking points that exist in the magical encounter between water and light.

Over the last few years, I've been collecting images of lost shoes found on the street, mostly unpaired units. Somehow, this practice brings me closer to its owners, never known to me. I feel as if I can share their lack of this object, as if I had lost it myself, and now, magically found them again. Some people have sent me their own images of shoes they’ve found. Added to mine, these are being compiled here, with the aim of always expanding this collection:

If you want to help to the growth of this collection, you can send an image or video to fernandasmorgan@gmail.com.