The painting is about meaning in philosophy, cure in science, beauty in aesthetics, Interest in disaster, comfort in friendship, revelry in laughter, tranquility in contemplation, perspective in nature, relief in pleasure, and most of all, calamity as an opportunity for Seneca's virtue.
There are also six other miniature landscapes, several of them just pictures, but some abstracted. The title also distinguishes the works from the larger ones, with the exception of the small scale, all of which deal with the same themes. Each has a background—that of the figural nature of nature itself—which is also its content. It is a painting that does not simply manifest beauty, or to some extent virtue, but that, in effect, offers meaning through art.Picking a subject for Senecas is a process that we encounter every day in our daily life, however different the circumstances of its making. No matter how much the world tries to hide from us its beauty, its beauty is to be found in the details of its existence, the relationships of its parts, and its connectivity. Seneca's painterly approach is, in a sense, about a relentless search for these internal relationships, no matter how remote or improbable. What we see in the details is the same as what we find in the perfect vision, and the perfect vision reveals the underlying truth. In such a way, Seneca takes care of the perfect vision, not by obscuring the visible, but by introducing a hidden truth. That is, his art is a visual communication with the invisible, a revelation of the hidden, that is something of which we can only speculate.
The painting is about meaning in philosophy, cure in science, beauty in aesthetics, Interest in disaster, comfort in friendship, revelry in laughter, tranquility in contemplation, perspective in nature, relief in pleasure, and most of all, calamity as an opportunity for Seneca's virtue.The work is for the sake of the soul. The Greeks used to call it Vesta, Vesta in Greek means soul. It is a symbol of all of nature: plants, an emblem of life, and of the soul. But the Vesta itself is not the center of human life; it is a labyrinth, a room with a mechanism that makes life possible only in darkness. We see the souls beneath the hearts that build it, the hidden forces that compose it. The secret is: each heart is a door to a room where there is darkness, and the darkness hides the hearts.The secret of Seneca's painting is: when you enter into the darkness, you are in the heart of life. Seneca places himself in the heart of the hidden forces that build darkness, but when you exit, you are in the light. In the heart of the hidden forces, darkness is at its purest, most vivid. And when you leave the darkness, you are a misty light, a moment of pure consciousness, and when you enter, you are an invisible event in a hidden universe. But when you enter the darkness, you become a future that is not yet realized. This is the true nature of Seneca's painting. The dark is not yet the future, nor is the dark the future the future. Seneca suggests that the past is now a time of the past, and that the future is a time of the present. The light that makes up the background is a future that is only now coming to pass. These paintings imply that the future is the past, but also that in the future the past will disappear, because in the present, the past is still present. In a way, this is what Seneca describes in the most ambiguous way, which is why they are so good.
The painting is about meaning in philosophy, cure in science, beauty in aesthetics, Interest in disaster, comfort in friendship, revelry in laughter, tranquility in contemplation, perspective in nature, relief in pleasure, and most of all, calamity as an opportunity for Seneca's virtue.Indeed, the paintings bear this out. The theme is linked to an earlier work, a work from 1983, which shows Seneca sitting in a boat with a group of people, some sitting on the deck, others at a window, writing in the margins of a newspaper. In each of the works, Seneca writes the title of the painting, so that each paper title derives from the single word, so that the title, like the canvas, becomes part of the painting. The title of the painting as a whole is a word we can call the bottom, which is in turn a sign of the top. In Senecas latest work, the bottom is painted white, and the painting itself is black. He paints his own letters in the middle of the bottom, and the letters look like shapes or colors that have been painted on the canvas. The white of the canvas is punctuated by red or yellow dots; the red of the bottom by a single orange. The colors range from earthy, earthy greens to the bright, purplish reds of afternoon heat, and the painted letters have such small letters that they become overwhelming and are never read aloud. It is as if the painting were surrounded by a deafening silence. The paintings basic colors, which are muted, muted, and muted, are not only emblematic of the top of the painting but also represent the bottom of the painting—the surface of the painting itself—through their relative lack of movement. Their simple, almost empty figures suggest a sort of dark and repressed internal world.But what is so extraordinary about Senecas most recent work? If the bottom of the painting has been painted black, what is the upper part? When he paints the upper part, it becomes the bottom; the painting becomes a painting in the bottom, and the upper part, like the lower part, becomes the bottom.
The painting is about meaning in philosophy, cure in science, beauty in aesthetics, Interest in disaster, comfort in friendship, revelry in laughter, tranquility in contemplation, perspective in nature, relief in pleasure, and most of all, calamity as an opportunity for Seneca's virtue.Ralph Waldo Emersons Kneeling Figure, ca. 1961, shows the typical disposition of a modestly dressed sculptor in his workshop. Sculptors in the 1950s and 60s began to realize sculptural forms that resembled those of human anatomy. The major sculptors in the 60s and 70s, Norman Drummond and Dave Hickey, began to sketch lines and forms that evoked the appearance of trees and oceans, at the same time that they seemed to be effecting a transformation of this nature into a science-fiction future. Yet the work of the latter is less novel than the one of the former, since the latter is dominated by such a conventionalistic stance that it is almost impossible to discern the landscape from the point of view of a surveying eye. And indeed, the works by the two greatest sculptors of the 20th century, Frank Stella and Donald Judd, are perhaps the most obvious examples of the manner in which the natural world was transformed into something else.In contrast, Marisol Garcia Marisol del Rey (The Flow of River), 1961, by Josef Albers, is an outstanding example of a really high-level work, composed of a series of excellent examples of Geometrica 2–3. Albers was a master of this type of geometric abstraction, which combines the rigor of classical geometry with a jaundiced eye toward humanity, a hypersensitive mind that quickly distinguished the most striking and peculiar of geometric forms—trees, mountains, and sea. This work forms a kind of simple, elegant, and elegantly crafted expressionism, which neither exaggerates nor subverts its traditional stance toward nature. The wall-mounted sculpture is almost devoid of content and hypertextual.Albers held this position until his death, in 1968, in 1964.
The painting is about meaning in philosophy, cure in science, beauty in aesthetics, Interest in disaster, comfort in friendship, revelry in laughter, tranquility in contemplation, perspective in nature, relief in pleasure, and most of all, calamity as an opportunity for Seneca's virtue.There is a clear diagonal bar running diagonally across the canvas, and the canvas is stretched across the bottom of a long, square iron frame which has been painted black to look like a crumbled roof. The painting is the same size as a framed photograph and the same as a framed drawing—all those elements are there. There are large cutout sketches of three-dimensional objects, and three charts with vertical lines like tiny desks. These are simple enough, yet his elaboration of their meaning is dazzling. (While he is painting, he has been reading books by the likes of Edgar Allan Poes and the seventeenth-century English painter John Wilson.) The chart about the size of a banknote, for example, shows that the largest banknote in the world is only one-tenth of a meter—an allusion to the size of the world, as they are all the same size—and the chart about the size of a room, another room, shows that every room is only about one-twentieth of a meter in size, and the last chart shows that all possible rooms are one-thousandth of a meter in size.In one of the paintings in this show, Seneca has drawn a bunch of birds and colored birds with the word avaia on a scrap of paper. This kind of conceptual game has always been his trademark, a way of making meaning out of his enigma of forms. In this case he has created an elegiac mixture that helps to give his meaning more intensity and conviction. In other words, his paintings are full of intrigue and mystery. Their beauty makes their meaning seem true. What is a form?—a form is a thing that exists in space, and Seneca has filled his canvases with lots of shapes. His complicated maps of space are filled with geometric shapes—the square, the triangle, the circle.
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