The Venue

Ħamsin was housed in an early seventeenth-century palazzo in Qrendi that was undergoing renovation. Since its construction around 1616, through its division in the nineteenth century, to its recent reinstatement, the building had undergone changes in both form and function. These transformations mirrored the artist’s own life journey, and, by extension, that of all human lives.

Change is inevitable; an essential force that sustains relevance, authenticity, and purpose.

Time

The timing of the work’s creation was crucial. It coincided with the artist’s fiftieth birthday. Her awareness that she now had less time ahead of her than in her past made time perspective a central motivational force.

As a young woman, she had perceived the future as open-ended. By this stage in life, she understood it as finite. Death was no longer an abstract concept but an increasingly tangible presence. Remembering and forgetting were both understood as products of memory, intertwined with space and time, determining when and where experiences were recalled or lost.

The work examined the significance of time’s passage in human consciousness. It reflected the fundamental truth that each individual exists day by day within the specific trajectory of a single life that would inevitably come to an end. It acknowledged the fact that while time grants memories, it also causes them to fragment, distort, and fade.

History, as the artist acknowledged, is always understood subjectively. Some memories are preserved, while others repressed. Memory is inherently selective, with a well-documented tendency to reshape events in ways that align with personal desires and values. This work is therefore deeply subjective. It created an environment that encouraged reflection on death, mourning, and memory loss, emphasising the impossibility of recalling the past with full authenticity, as memory constantly weaves together truth and distortion.

The Work

Ħamsin consisted of a collection of fifty paintings, each representing and encapsulating a specific year, from the artist’s birth to the year of the exhibition (1974–2024).

To the artist, each painting appeared to emanate a quiet, almost supernatural force. This quality was attributed to the sincerity with which the works were created. They were free from sensationalism, genuine and faithful to the memories that inspired them, however unreliable those memories might have been.

The inherent instability of memory led to its representation through abstraction. The work explored memory as a slippery mechanism: vague, elusive, and intrusive. Certainty about the accuracy of recollection was presented as unattainable. Memories appeared as fragile glimpses of the past; images and emotions that lingered in the present. They were nostalgic realisations through which experiences could never be fully relived in their original form.

Autobiography

Farrell intended the work to resonate with visitors as deeply as the process of its creation had resonated with her. Viewers inevitably associated particular years within the collection with their own lived experiences. Meaning was therefore not fixed but negotiated through the interaction between the artwork and the viewer.

With each encounter, the work generated new experiences as memories shifted, evolved, and transformed. Visitors were encouraged to move freely through the space, to pause, to speculate, to interpret, and to shape the experience as their own journey, not only into the artist’s past but into their own.

In this way, the work, the artist and the viewer became active participants in a shared metaphorical circus, their interaction generating something new and unique each time. Ultimately, the work acknowledged that what remained of an individual, in mortal terms, was the memory left behind in those who continued to live.

Life is a Circus

Smile and amuse like a clown,

Even if you’re dead on the inside.

Stand straight and tall on your high rope,

Even if you’re holding on by a thread.

Juggle as many roles as you can.

Keep the rhythm. Keep the timing.

Even when your limbs ache.

Close your eyes. Take the leap. Trust blindly.

You have no choice.

Walk through the horror house, shoot for a prize,

Pay the ticket, ride the rollercoaster. Buckle up.

Wear your mask.

Get into character.

Life is a circus, and we’re here to enjoy the show.

Don’t disappoint.

Everyone is watching.