Johanna Helmuth

Heaven Can Wait

October 8 – 29 2022

Blanc Gallery

Dear Viewer,

At this juncture of your life, I know that you’ve had your fair share of heartbreaks. To love is to be human, we’re always told. And yet, once we encounter that debilitating feeling of loss, when someone beloved is gone, we’re always told to manage our grief and still put a pretty face to the public. When we are asked how we are doing, we are expected to say, “I’m fine.” When someone goes against this prescription of false strength and confidence and wallows in their sadness, especially when it lingers for quite some time, we judge the capacity of that person for endurance. “Darling, your head’s not right,” we say.

But listen, sometimes the heartbreak feels vaster than the world, and nothing else matters. Even if we venture into an unknown territory to get rid of a clouded mind—a theme park, a foreign city, a desert—we are followed by the shadow of abandonment. We sometimes submit ourselves to the rollercoaster of recklessness, enjoying the ride. And then, in the quiet hours, when the stars trace the sky with their slow rotations and we face ourselves in the mirror, the emptiness stares back at us. The pain is so great that the numbness sets in. We think that even we put our hands in a naked flame, we think, “Maybe I won’t burn.”

Viewer, have a truce with yourself. Make peace with your vulnerability. Dive into your grief with unconditional surrender. Lick your wounds. Do whatever it takes to cohere the broken fragments of yourself. Give yourself time. After all, the bones and muscles of your body still function marvelously. Music always feels right. Blueberries might calm you down. And when you’re ready to face the world again, greet it like a long-lost friend. Should the fracture in your heart still be there, listen for the tremors, acknowledge them, and dance to the more beautiful tune of your breathing. Bruised soldier, you are still here, and your skin still knows how it is to be loved by the sun that kisses both the pebble and the Grand Canyon.

P.S. Heaven can wait.

-Carlomar Daona