Cikk a kiállításról a Balkon 2016_2 számában
issuu.com/elnfree/docs/balkon-2016-2/c/sm25q67">Balkon 2016_2
Gloaming period
I’d taken a photo documentation from four different points of the Flakturm observation tower in Vienna (which served as a military observation unit, a Nazi locator during the World War, and which is impossible to ever demolish).
I have been observing the twilight for a long time, I like to experience the process of transferring to another world.
Documenting the phases of twilight is just a starting point for unfolding the following problematics of painting:
I like to think in the observation tower, it is an island for me, a metaphor of the different levels of the ego scrutinized from a distance – or insight.
What was more important, I do not know.
We are pushed forward by something that urges us to change continuously...
Waiting... no man’s land
We are the inhabitants of a universe, made from stardust. Our home is whirling, dark, thick matter, the cosmic unknown, introverted and pulsating, barren, emotionless void form.
Or the burning in of moments and picture frame sequences layered from the tiny differences during the transformation gradually observed in the setting sun.
Layers of paint – recreating the surface of after-glow to perfection
gold
underneath, manganese violet, green and orange
over it, white glaze
cosmic dots in the marble-like velvet cracks of Parisian blue
Reflections of sensations created from the momentary states of artificial accents of light embedded in natural light, leaving traces on the canvas.
Reflection of a building.
In my search for a voice, seeking to evade clichés, I was trying to find a clear sequence of sound rather than music, of the kind that is not aimed at composing its own music, because the purpose is not to compose music or even a piece of music, and yet another language of my own, but to project enough of the concentrated waves of energy on the empty surface of the canvas, to fill it with energy, so to say, so that the viewer can then extract it from there.
When I reflect on the way those many layers have settled on the city and grow layers upon layers of the memories of generations. Dripstones of its ghosts. Repetitions, the stratification of faces and buildings, melting and fading into each other like ghosts.
The surfaces of the paintings are the results of just these kinds of process experiences.
Phases until dark.
I discover concrete things, states of matter, Metamorphoses (Kafka). I would like to use the spectacle.
I would like to look at things while not seeing them.
I would like to reinterpret what I know, what we know
I blindfold myself, I open my ears, I open my eyes.
The form, the silhouette, details with improvised block-outs should be presented in the picture, presenting these like traces.
I block out the sight until it is unrecognizable, so it shall not disturb my transformation. But perhaps it is not the sight that is transformed in the picture, but I become something else in the process. And this obviously leaves its mark on the canvas.
Phases of twilight, a process of tuning, techniques. And I realize during the process of creating.
Vibrating, hovering sound – earth
more resonant hovering sound – water
clear sound – air
Being above nations, and a breath.
I’d taken a photo documentation from four different points of the Flakturm observation tower in Vienna (which served as a military observation unit, a Nazi locator during the World War, and which is impossible to ever demolish).
I have been observing the twilight for a long time, I like to experience the process of transferring to another world.
Documenting the phases of twilight is just a starting point for unfolding the following problematics of painting:
I like to think in the observation tower, it is an island for me, a metaphor of the different levels of the ego scrutinized from a distance – or insight.
What was more important, I do not know.
We are pushed forward by something that urges us to change continuously...
Waiting... no man’s land
We are the inhabitants of a universe, made from stardust. Our home is whirling, dark, thick matter, the cosmic unknown, introverted and pulsating, barren, emotionless void form.
Or the burning in of moments and picture frame sequences layered from the tiny differences during the transformation gradually observed in the setting sun.
Layers of paint – recreating the surface of after-glow to perfection
gold
underneath, manganese violet, green and orange
over it, white glaze
cosmic dots in the marble-like velvet cracks of Parisian blue
Reflections of sensations created from the momentary states of artificial accents of light embedded in natural light, leaving traces on the canvas.
Reflection of a building.
In my search for a voice, seeking to evade clichés, I was trying to find a clear sequence of sound rather than music, of the kind that is not aimed at composing its own music, because the purpose is not to compose music or even a piece of music, and yet another language of my own, but to project enough of the concentrated waves of energy on the empty surface of the canvas, to fill it with energy, so to say, so that the viewer can then extract it from there.
When I reflect on the way those many layers have settled on the city and grow layers upon layers of the memories of generations. Dripstones of its ghosts. Repetitions, the stratification of faces and buildings, melting and fading into each other like ghosts.
The surfaces of the paintings are the results of just these kinds of process experiences.
Phases until dark.
I discover concrete things, states of matter, Metamorphoses (Kafka). I would like to use the spectacle.
I would like to look at things while not seeing them.
I would like to reinterpret what I know, what we know
I blindfold myself, I open my ears, I open my eyes.
The form, the silhouette, details with improvised block-outs should be presented in the picture, presenting these like traces.
I block out the sight until it is unrecognizable, so it shall not disturb my transformation. But perhaps it is not the sight that is transformed in the picture, but I become something else in the process. And this obviously leaves its mark on the canvas.
Phases of twilight, a process of tuning, techniques. And I realize during the process of creating.
Vibrating, hovering sound – earth
more resonant hovering sound – water
clear sound – air
Being above nations, and a breath.
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