Yellow
yellow melts over the curve of emotional discharge dancing in the air performed by a fragile, vulnerable body, music is bursting out the speakers, blessing the ears of the creator that paints with rather focused attention and uncontrollable passion the paint spreads evenly, fluently on the stretched surface of a rigid fabric the composition is bouncing off the canvas at this point, joining in the intuitive movements of the dancer, spreading into the surroundings, forming a space of its own, enfolding the body into its fluid shapes joy pure joy is emanated within that space I am felt by the canvas and the canvas is felt by me I feel at one with the painting, like we're a part of each other's physicality I am joyful, joy has formed through the act of painting, the aesthetic structure of composing I am the composer of joy I am, it is joy. works
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Bubbling bits of fleshy blops floating around a sphere
Different spaces of questioning one's imagination and its true right to reality bending over yet another piece of wavy madness dots spreading across an area of free air making eye contact across the distance between each other a deep breath then back to over-crowded over-complicated funky shapes transforming into further unknown unseen forms of nothingness where am I? what's this? a pleasure of visual admiration of colours starting a war with outlines transporting a human figure into a journey of endless recognition, never-ending confusion searching for answers while ignoring those floating around in their heads at the time of experience the division of canvas and its over-taken surface with a story-based, imagination-ruled object an object of expression an object of stability of overwhelm of feelings an object. works Madhouse. Madhouse isn’t my family home, it isn’t the relationship with those closest to me. Madhouse is my mind, the ever present, ever racing ball of thoughts. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m thinking so much while performing the act of painting that it gets so muddled up and I can’t quite get a hang of what I’m thinking or whether it just stops as soon as the surface meets the rough bristles. This is why my paintings can’t be about a singular thing, a singular experience. There are so many stories, so many senses coming back to me as I’m painting, transforming themselves into colours, shapes, surfaces. Taking a look back at my pieces, I can transport myself back into the moment(s) of creating them, I get a clear image of myself painting them - the environment I was in, the sort of mood I found myself in. However, memory is a fragile and deceptive thing, it changes and unfolds over time, forever living or disappearing. Just like with this piece of writing, I get very carried away while painting, catching myself caught up inside of my head, outside of my body, always struggling to be in the present time. These paintings are in a way just like me; their meaning can be forever changing, forever stuck somewhere else, somewhere where their possible meanings are caught together and their physicality is ever present. Madhouse. Madhouse was at first a mix of shapes taken from the indoor spaces I found myself in as a child, a representation of possibly psychological, emotional attachment or re-imagination of those surroundings. Essentially, as the act of painting evolved with the time I spent in front of the canvas, my intuition and random thoughts got in the way of this process, and I proceeded to paint shapes that were in my head, joining one with the other in a rather pleasing way. Madhouse looks like some sort of a space, it resembles a feeling of a ladder to me, the shapes are climbing up, leading us to a new, unknown place. As they reach the top of the canvas, we, as the viewers, are disappointed, we can’t reach the place they are moving towards, we are left to imagine what that place might look like, continuing on the painting in our heads.
works A fragmented piece, a combination of abstracted particles coming from childhood drawings and photographs. One would love to attach a story to this painting because essentially it looks like one; the viewer’s eyes are able to smoothly travel from one part of the canvas to the other due to its very apparent movement. However, does it actually have a fixed narrative? A human’s perception desires to find figurative symbols in an abstract piece in order to be able to understand the reason for its creation. One could be easily pleased to find a mushroom, a heart and two bees in the composition. These rather real life signifiers are the reinvented drawings I have produced as a child, they are intertwined with the way that I am painting now, as an adult. This creates a space of exploration on a canvas, two worlds colliding. This project drew my attention to my personal life as an archive, the idea of examining works that I’ve created as a child. I’ve also merged the geographic outline of my birth town with the shapes I’ve gathered from the sketches based on a specific photograph from my past. Through this process of painting, I’m trying to understand my life experiences and what I am. Sometimes, it seems like I’m a space in between, just like these canvases produce a space in between. This alternative space is also made up of shapes I have included in my last painting, Empty Room, where I imagined what the moment of a viewer experiencing my painting for the first time would be like inside his mind. To me, this painting looks like happiness and chaos in one. It’s exciting, it’s moving in front of our eyes. It looks as if a child made it. It has this controlled childishness about it that eventually turns into a grown up painting. It is cartoonish and expressive. It is fun. It doesn’t have a fixed story behind it but a complicated process. works Fragments, shapes or parts. All of the traces of one’s mind, the memories, the ones that seemed to be forgotten but awake themselves in a physical form on a canvas. Composition of colours and lines refers to the intensity of felt emotions by an individual who relives the scene charged with an unbelievable connection. Connection of two minds, two bodies, two separate yet combined lives. The touch that although cannot be replayed in two dimensionality, can be experienced through the sense of sight. By decoding the tangled marks and vivid hues, each one of us can encounter a moment sitting deep down in our heads - the one that’s sparked as soon as we look at the piece. We feel undressed. Bare. Seen. It’s almost as if the author creeped into our inmost thoughts, laying them naked in front of us. The balance between unconsciousness and control is soothing - fluid curves bounce off the sharp, defined outlines. Aggressiveness is present but not overwhelming, chaos relates to it whereas density combines it. We all step into a stop motion past, transporting ourselves emotionally but physically still staying in that one moment, that one space, that one room on Earth. As if we have disappeared yet we’re still here in front of a painting.
works Red
the flowing fluidity of intense curves the never ending connection of one to the other This emotional attachment between pink and white the familiarity of each other’s hues a common composition a relationship an invisible string pulling all of the parts together holding them in a physical object. works This painting was a rather organised one. Looking at the more conscious sketches made from the blind drawings, I felt insufficiency. I desired to create a breathable, freer yet very composed piece of art. Composition was the most significant component for me here, the shapes had to be neat, sharp yet very organic and gentle. There was meant to be more space on the canvas than the object of art itself. One was meant to be mesmerised by it and calmed at the same time.
Airy because it flowed like air but stuck together in a fixed position. works BLU BLU came about by me sitting down on the floor, playing with a piece of Styrofoam. The action of bending this material was a vital point in the whole process of creating, it produced what BLU is today. Its preservation required me to use a needle and some thread, stitching the two opposite sides of Styrofoam into one whole. This initiated the creation of the other two objects.
SHAPEY It was meant to be a bunch of tall, distorted sculptures with lots of texture on them. I imagined them being rather thin and bent into circular angles. The dough was too heavy to be held up, thus, it began falling down, causing itself to become shorter but wider pieces of art, resulting in two chunks of fat dough. All I’ve done to save the idea was to take dough in my hands and form texture, sparking the formation of deliberate shapes taken from the painting sitting right in front of me, which included long, chunky swirls and smooth ovals. These two separate yet united bits became individual sketches of dough that was then combined by strong glue. STATIC Static was very much of an experiment gone wrong, gone right. At first, half covered with thinned out blue acrylic paint that stuck inside tiny holes of Styrofoam, making me uncomfortable. Then put away into my wardrobe to not be seen for another week. It has been brought back to daylight when BLU and SHAPEY were coming together into a rather cohesive duo and was spontaneously covered with bandages of plaster. Plaster has caused STATIC’s structure to harden, thus, become unbelievably stiff. The strength that STATIC possessed was overwhelming when compared to BLUE and SHAPEY, it almost felt like a foundation piece that the other two could lean on and add themselves to in order to bring some fluidity and lightness to the composition. These objects were formed by the manipulation of materials found at home. They were all constructed alongside one another, influencing each other’s colours, shapes, textures as well as being affected by their surroundings. Primarily created as a composition, each of them was given a name, emphasising a sense of fantasy and the endless possibility of concepts behind them. Putting the objects into different combinations allows the viewer to explore different but similar abstract ‘spaces’ or paintings created by them. "All things are part of a whole, each part receives its visual value from the other parts. Everything is constituted through relation and reciprocity. A colour exists only through another colour, a dimension is defined by another dimension, there is no position except in opposition to another position. This is why I say that the principal thing is relation." Mondrian works Measure 70cm length and 50cm width on a piece of cardboard.
Use a marker. Connect all the points to form an oval shape. Cut it out. Put your gloves on. Open the window. Take expanding foam. Shake it 30 times. Squeeze out the first layer onto the cardboard oval. Do it by firstly going around and then across. Wait 15 minutes in between layers to let one dry before adding another one. Use Siri to turn on your timer. Repeat until desired height (around 25cm). Flip it around. Shake the expanding foam 30 times. Cover the fresh slate with your first layer. Go around then across. Wait 15 minutes. Use Siri to help you tell when waiting is over. Repeat until desired shape. works Visual. I’m on a roll of a creative vomit. I feel a strong urge to produce produce and let all of the ideas out onto a canvas or a piece of paper. These artworks don’t necessarily have any conceptual value to them (as of right now) but more of a visual, imaginative value. I have been cleaning out my art stuff and came across 2 paintings from my foundation that didn’t bring me joy so I wanted to paint on top of them. During the process of decluttering, I also found a charcoal sketch of my journey from my house to my foundation building and back - the drawing intrigued me, I saw this clear interest in shapes that have already emerged 2 years ago but wasn’t a point of interest back then - I thought it was perfect for one of the paintings. The colour palette developed naturally as I began painting the shapes formed from the ‘map’ sketch. The blues, yellows and purples created a sense of harmony and an organic feel within the painting. Once the pastel, thick yellow background covered the canvas, I had to go over the primary shapes, retrieving even more shapes within them. The use of white paint allowed me to maintain the traces of the older layer of the canvas that covered the last painting that was portrayed on it, additionally giving me a chance to reveal ‘negative’ shapes. I think this painting was very free, very emotional and intuitive - it wasn’t planned, perfectly executed or ‘Instagram worthy’. Nowadays, we worry too much about forming some sort of an aesthetically pleasing feed on our art Instagram's - don’t get me wrong, aesthetics are completely a part of being a creator, it is essentially what drives us to produce artworks, however, I personally catch myself too many times overthinking whether a specific piece of work will go well with what I posted last time. This mindset causes lots of limitations when considering the process of creation, we start to unconsciously limit our intuitive making to make sure that we stay within our portrayed ‘style’, which really shouldn’t be the case. It’s a very controlled making. I might not be talking about everyone, but I know for a fact that I get caught up in this way of thinking. Another issue that I began to analyse is this concept of over sharing. Could over sharing our creations cause them to lose their sense of uniqueness? This mystery of how one came about making that specific artwork dissolves itself as soon as we decide to post every step of our process online. On the other hand, sometimes I feel like I want to post those ‘behind the scenes’ processes to uncover the amount of steps that go into forming that painting or sculpture in order to ‘prove’ in a way that it doesn’t just appear as a whole product straight away. It shows others that in fact art making is full of philosophies, theories and thought processes. At the same time, it scares me, it’s as if something that feels completely and utterly ‘mine’ and is very private to me, is shared with lots of people on the internet, somehow stripping my authorship bit by bit. Once posted, I have to make another one so I’m not left with nothing. Another limitation that has stayed with me for a while now is concepts behind artworks. Naturally, I immerse myself in the process of making, very often not really considering the so-called ‘meaning’ behind the piece. Nevertheless, when asked what my work is about or the simple knowledge that at some point I will be questioned on the concept behind the work, I worry whether what I’m making at that specific moment is worthy. Is there a point in creating something when you’re not sure what’s the concept behind it or if there is one in the first place? Does an artwork always have to have a concept? Or does it automatically ‘come’ with a concept once created? Although I am very often consumed with the need to have a concept based work, I feel most creative and most productive when creating what I ‘feel’ like creating or what my mind tells me to produce. I think that sometimes we almost form over thought scenarios or meanings behind our artworks in order to make the ‘outsiders’ understand our work or see it as more valuable since then it’s not seen as ‘just a pretty picture’. Conceptual making should come instinctively and freely, not forcefully. Can’t we at least sometimes create for the creation’s sake? works |
What's inside?Reflections, personal thoughts |