Anna Foka and her scope
Foka is precise. Clear. She moves with surgical precision, like a beleaguered sniper aiming at the target. Foka takes position and gradually shuts one eye. Her entire past becomes her present, and her present flows through her scope. She holds her breath. Slaughter.
Foka is precise, like a dream that can only be recalled a few seconds before falling back asleep. Foka is clear; steady like a magnetic field. This does not necessarily have to do with her brushstrokes, her colours or the effects she uses (elements of an artistic language that can tell when it needs to make itself clear), but with the images themselves and their role.
Disneyland (2006) remains carved in the memories of observers like a mystic, total explosion in the style of Zabriskie Point… The transparent violinists in Musical (2007) form an orchestra of floating ghosts (benevolent ones, maybe?), Kachina, the Indian Spirit (2010) awakens demons through its own life-giving pencil strokes, while Kisses from Mars (2008) and Idyllic (2011) take us on a journey of profound reflection filled with obsessive ideas, untrodden paths and human silhouettes in the distance; perfect, stone figures of the past. Unforgettable images that leave an indelible mark on the viewer.
Foka does not give up. It is not enough for her to relive visual memories; she scans the world around her and holds on to whatever she deems essential. Whatever she encounters must leave a trace inside her; and if it doesn’t, well, it is just not included in the composition. The frame has been set as a shooting range. Foka aims outside of it and calmly pulls the trigger. She gets the target, every time.