波蘭上苑駐館藝術家Urszula Wilk
[2013-11-30 1:43:07]
最近在波蘭舉行了一場名叫“ " Unsent Letters from Beijing ’ 2013”來自北京未發信件的個展,個展主要由三部分組成:
‘Archipelago’, ‘Letters Unsent’ and ‘Absence’)。
Archipelago的創作方式是將紙張用于吸取多余的油墨而形成的類似版畫的藝術品。藝術家先在地上滴落油墨,這其中油墨的量和位置藝術家是可以
控制的,接著藝術家拿著紙張去“清潔”這些油墨,把紙壓在油墨上進行收集。這個時候繪畫變成了一種工作室油墨地圖的拓印。1:1的比例,不用
攝像機,獨立而精準,短暫而不可逆。
Letters Unsent的系列上的神秘印記讓人聯想到“Archipelago”系列,那些如同來自Archipelago系列的“字體”存在卻沒有溝通意義,那是油墨的
滴答,是筆尖的舞蹈,是秘密的語言,是書法的痕跡,是不可破譯,是不可讀取。它讓我們意識到我們總在一定的語言框架內交流,我們也對這種
框架屈服,被這種框架所約束。我們應該對這種現象進行挑戰。
信件是給別人,無論是至親還是陌生人。書信的觸感和書寫的內容以及閱讀就是自我的獨白被解讀,而藝術家創作的這種不被解讀的信件能讓她安
全的,淋漓精致的表達自己而不傷害到任何人。
Marek Śnieciński
Windows on Utopia – paintings of Urszula Wilk fragment
The artist’s recent three series of paintings on paper (entitled ‘Archipelago’, ‘Letters Unsent’ and ‘Absence’) have a joint title ‘Letters Unsent’.
The ‘Archipelago’ series was created using a unique procedure: painterly and non-painterly at the same time. This procedure is close to
printmaking in a way. The sheets of paper were used as once blotting paper was used to remove excess ink. Initially, what constitutes the
support is the floor of the studio covered with various constellations of ink drops dripping from the brush. Their arrangements emerge as a
result of an activity which could be defined as controlled chance, as the artist can control the amount of dripping ink and the arrangement of
ink drops only to a certain extent. The next stage is a specific ‘cleaning’ process: the artist presses sheets of paper against the archipelagos of
drops , collecting them from the floor. This is the stage when the painting ‘does itself’, as if independently. In a way, such a painting becomes a
kind of a map of a part of the studio’s territory. The most exact kind of a map, as the reproduction scale in this case is 1:1. Such a painting is an
imprint, a trace. But not a trace of the world as delivered by documentary photography; it is a trace of something much more ephemeral. A trace
of a hand with a brush circling in the air, a trace of it wandering around, of hesitations, of the thick ink slowly dripping along the horsehair of the
brush. It is a trace of a certain Now, of a moment stretched to several minutes, of time that transforms itself into space. These rules of the game
result in a painting which is non-accidentally accidental. The irreversibility of the recording in the picture is postponed. Wilk is capable of
celebrating the painting’s right to non-existence. She may simply wipe away the drops of ink off the floor and the painting will not happen – even
if just a moment ago, each drop of ink falling to the floor seemed to build up the structure of the painting’s composition. However, when a sheet
of paper is pressed against the floor and the ink drops, the painting is recorded instantaneously. It is a fleeting image and a veraikon at the
same time.
The next series is entitled ‘Letters Unsent’. These mysterious letters are reminiscent of ‘Archipelagos’. My impression is, these are letters from
the archipelago’s territory; letters that had to be written, have the addressee (addressees) but couldn’t or shouldn’t be sent. The meaning of
these letters is their existence per se, not the fact that they could communicate something to somebody. Urszula Wilk writes letters which are
never sent without even touching the surface of the paper. The brush circles above the sheet of paper; ink drips down the dancing tip of a long
brush. These paintings seem to collect traces of calligraphy exercises in a secret language. The words that cannot be deciphered or
pronounced drip down the brush. Words, or rather their articulation, can be stopped. But one cannot refrain from the childish desire to leave
signs; the desire which forces one’s hand to perform a weird dance above paper. While dancing, a hand becomes a seismograph of emotions.
A seismograph of a crowd of words not uttered, words we do not want to or cannot utter. These letters are not supposed to be read. These
letters speak by their very existence. They tell me, for example, that our communication is always (or almost always) contained within the
framework of a certain linguistic convention; that using a particular language we succumb to the illusion of communicating something to
somebody. We pick up a language (ethnic, painting, drawing or mathematical) in the hope we can utter in it a certain truth about ourselves or
the world. However, this hope blends with the anxiety that all these languages above all express themselves, not us. We are endlessly
challenged by the question of how to force ‘our’ language to say something more, to reveal more than just the language structure.
Letters are always addressed to somebody. Even if the addressee is a stranger. Letters not sent have their addressee or addressees too. The
paintings-letters of Urszula Wilk are a kind of self-portrait whose idea is not the representation of the current appearance, but the expression of
the inexpressible. These letters are entrusted to the air; the distance between the hand holding the brush and the surface of the paper filters
and encodes the ‘uttered’ words. These words are monologues written by the artist to herself, although, perhaps, she writes them because of
somebody or something. She encapsulates her thoughts and emotions in a kind of writing that cannot be decoded. Only to such a notation may
one safely confide what must come into being and, at the same time, be kept at the perimeter of expression. Even if just to avoid hurting
somebody too deeply. (…)
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