Water doesn’t own a visual texture. It is deceitful. It borrows the texture of surrounding things    
         to  create an illusion. I know that its texture is illusory, and for that reason I was drawn to it.

The Illusion of Worlds takes the viewer on a journey to escape the world we know, and through that passage leads us towards another. This is not a simple journey out of the city, though it is that too. It is equally something more, a personal memento of how to live right now, here, and in this time.

Rim El Jundi is a city girl, self-proclaimed, a hybrid. She paints life as it passes, and her life is here, or there, or on the way somewhere else, always in Lebanon, even if affected by thoughts of escape, migration, movement. Now, she paints a small parcel of land, an enclave of safety in the village of Aamchit, her cocoon. This world centres on a swimming pool, is caught in neat, hot, slices of blue. There is no wider world.

Here, El Jundi writes, I can place my hand on the illusory texture of water.