A number of cuentos also juxtapose the mundane natural world with the extraordinary, to emphasise the complex relationship between the known and the unknown. Both exist in their visible and hidden worlds respectively, yet are agglutinated together into one narrated reality.
One of the best examples of this phenomenon, this exhibition re-presented in a larger format, was Petit sou, which was at its core a painting about a three-dimensional pancake with a smeared, fragmented image of a human figure on a brownish background. The image reveals the complexity of the painting process: The painting is a drawing, in fact, an amalgamation of thousands of diverse organic events. In the middle of this, Petit sou, a human head and torso appear to be conjoined by three additional images. This unsettling fusion, however, is not of the biological, but of the surreal—the mysterious beings that haunt the world. Sorrows is an instantiated phenomenon. A sinister, fierce, monstrous power is revealed in a shadow-filled world.
The interweavings of the world from the outside can be sensed by a fragment of the observer in the world inside. On the same page, the simultaneous deformation of two dimensions by a third-dimensional medium is most compelling when the two dimensions are barely perceptible, in the case of the Japanese ink drawings. In these drawings the authors use a clear plastic material, paint, to sketch a structure or construct a form which implies movement and movement is a two-dimensional design. In these drawings the artist no longer relies on materials, instead using mechanical and chemical processes, to fabricate the forms, thus evading the strictures of both formal and logical determinations. The solutions of this impossible union of two- and three-dimensional space are miraculous.
A number of cuentos also juxtapose the mundane natural world with the extraordinary, to emphasise the complex relationship between the known and the unknown. Both exist in their visible and hidden worlds respectively, yet are agglutinated together into one narrated reality.These works often date from the 1980s, with the first of them comprised of a series of flat sections arranged on the wall, together with a small table where visitors could take notes on them. In these two-dimensional works the only text printed on the surface was a pair of black stripes that reached up to a distance of almost ten feet from the ground. The diagonal stripes also recalled the diagonal borders of colored paper, which were sometimes applied in the past to embellish the surfaces of paintings. The diagrammatic structures introduced by the diagonal stripes were also interwoven with diagonal stripes and framed within squares of colored silk cloth. The paper has a smooth, airy texture that reflects the color of the silk, but also evokes the softness of hair, the lightness of the night, or the smell of a fallen leaf. More prominent in these works is the mode of the stripes—as the text is pinned in place, only to be removed and restored. Two horizontal strips are arranged in a single line, one is divided into two equal horizontal segments and traced in brown. There is no central figure; the stripes are outlined in black, and just like lines on a black background. This rhythmic pattern reflects the movements of the leaves in the trees. The most beautiful in these works is the third, composed of three strips of silk and traced in dark green on dark green paper. In addition to being a bit more complex than the others, the third strip contains an inscription printed in indigo, echoing the words written on a transparent sheet of paper. This repeating lettering, even at its most elaborate, retains the only trace of the original text on the surface. The inscribed text is printed in watercolor, as in the other works. The silk forms an especially pleasing texture, and it is possible to read a full-fledged manuscript on it. Although the textile is intended to be used for textile production, it is also used to create the woven material for the cloths.
Here, the memory of an uncertain past is translated into a time of spiritual experience.A beautifully executed selection of photographs from the past decade and a half attests to the achievements of the artists with whom he is associated. These work together to synthesise fragments of events from ancient cultures and historical sites. They depict landscapes and temples from the Euphrates valley of Turkey and Syria, where the artists grandfather lived. Examples of early-modern, neo-primitive sculptures can be found, as well as the world-class masterpieces of modern Egyptian sculpture. His efforts provide a basis for the contemporary images that now flood the cultural heritage. The work of these artists is not only proof of the versatility of this region, but also of its importance in the contemporary world.
A number of cuentos also juxtapose the mundane natural world with the extraordinary, to emphasise the complex relationship between the known and the unknown. Both exist in their visible and hidden worlds respectively, yet are agglutinated together into one narrated reality. In Lejos, 1984, the newest work in the show, we encounter an installation consisting of two vertical panels of wood, each of which consists of a grid of forty-six images. The grid itself has been repeated on the second floor in a different composition. A series of two parallel wood panels follows, each one consisting of a single image. The paintings are each painted white and black, a prelude to the second floor installation. Here the grid is related to the block that encloses the work. A second grid of images continues on the lower floor, parallel to the one on the first floor, and functions as a material reference for the other works in the show. The repeated grids reveal a constant alteration in material—in many cases, it has been removed and replaced with another image—which each viewer has experienced in the past. But this time, the work is completely disassembled, i.e. reproduced with the same precision as in the previous pieces.The twenty-four works shown on the second floor of the gallery function as an analogical image of the first. There is a curious and suggestive relationship between these and the sixteen paintings that comprised the show on the first floor. The six paintings on the floor of the gallery, in addition to being based on grids, also have an inverse function, i.e. that the grid itself functions as an inverse or, at least, a subset of the image. In this way, the first floor of the gallery functioned like a miniature version of the gallery, as the works, unlike the paintings, occupy an imaginary space on the wall.The miniature gallery on the second floor has the advantage of reproducing a much more complex and natural world than the gallery on the first floor. The miniature gallery functioned like a final structure that encapsulates the most interesting part of the exhibition: the three-dimensional works on display.
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