PIGMENTARIUM x MICHAELA FENKL
The sea surface flashes between the pine trunks. The hot summer air is filled with the sounds of cicadas and the blooming oleanders sway slowly above the surface of a pool. One that is here just for you. Along with a glass of gin and refreshing citrus on the rim. The carefree days of Pigmentarium Paradiso perfume are back. Aromas of grapefruit, juniper, patchouli, and vetiver.
We are today, and for this summer only, introducing a strictly limited edition of the citrus-spicy fragrance created in collaboration with visual poet Michaela Fenkl. The perfume bottle and box have been transformed into a separate art object, connected to one of the symbols of carefree holidays, the written text.
Michaela's work, full of emotion, searching and finding, is characterized by the visual form of words. She writes the whole text or parts of it in a particular handwriting on paper or anything, including fabric or human skin, with a tattoo needle. She also publishes in a visual form. She is the author of poetry collections, clotheslines that work with the self-expression of a young generation, and several texts on her own body.
Michaela Fenkl, a visual poet, has created a collectable series of Paradiso perfumes for Pigmentarium.
Communicating feelings on a perfume bottle? A declaration of summer, love, contemplation. An offer to play to anyone who picks up the bottle or the box. Creating for the Pigmentarium brand was not only a challenge for Michaela, but it was also a wish come true. Because it is the fragrances that stimulate her imagination and help her mind to travel and recreate memories.
Therefore, in the beginning, there was just a scent and a clean sheet of paper.
Thoughts linked to a summer night by the seaside led Michaela to formulate a manifesto in which she expressed feelings inspired by the Paradiso fragrance...
Play-on words and feelings are transferred to the box, whose prototype has been covered by messages and opinions. This design was transferred to the bottles and boxes of the limited collector series of Paradiso perfume in its precise graphic form, including the main slogan:
"Paralysed by my own paradise".
PARALYSED BY MY OWN PARADISE
BY MICHAELA FENKL
On a hot summer night, I am sitting on the beach and inhaling the familiar feeling of selflessness. With the wind gently cooling my back and the lightness flattering my soul, I wonder how I could capture this feeling in my hands, if only for a moment.
The sand was dancing on my fingertips when I heard the sea whisper:
Where do you go, when you go quiet?
And as my inner voice never stops speaking, I kept on misspelling all the strange feelings and passing by heartbeats I
encountered. I saw the stars falling into your eyes, the sun drowning in the sea and the sky falling to the ground. All the dead things wishing to be humanised. Yet are we alive? What are we here for tonight?
It's as if the wine never stops pouring and cigarettes never stop burning.
A rollercoaster of emotions, I inhale the unbearable lightness of being and look around. Everything I see I gift with a meaning.
My conciousness travels. An interstate symphony. Something no human can destroy. And how many things can you say that about? Our innerness is a pillar that defines us. It shall be protected at all costs.
This is an ode to dreams that were built on sandcastles and all the blown wishes on a birthday cake that may never come true, but we must insist on keeping wishing for them anyway.
I sink into the depths of myself and I can't help but fall in love with every single moment I'm living. What does summer love smell like?
you let me
it must be
that you can fall in love within a single night
and never forget.
I often think about your face. The sky in your eyes. sex. Your lips. heaven. Freckles. sleeping stars. Is that how Nirvana feels like?
Or did I just lose it?
I am too young to act old. And I refuse to be old enough to stop chasing sunsets. I am trapped in my head. But whoever said I wanted to escape? We crave love but fear the very same thing. The biggest enigma where all of the hearts sink. But I still prefer to walk the day in oblivion. And while all the ways lead to Rome, some of them surely must have started here.
I don't know much about life. But I do know one thing. It's only as crazy as you make it. And so I shout into the darkness recklessly that I do not fear myself, and in the sight of the retracted parasols and seaweed, I promise to stop counting days and start counting kisses. To be present in joy and selfless in my wishes. To taste grapefruits and not become sour. To walk proudly but speak humbly. To let myself go if I feel like running. To break bones but never promises. To remember that there is no delirium you cannot dance out of. And that even when I'll feel nothing, I must feel it completely.
And as I keep on staring into the hopeful face of night, I realise that everything we were given, was given to us for free. The sky we look at, the air we breathe.
There is no need to escape the noise no more.
Because in this touching tenderness of our expressions
there is embodied
all the agony
of human yearning for another
and all the ecstasy of being wanted.
And therefore, I cheer to this night,
for I long to be
by my own