Small remnants of melancholy (FUNARTE)

Small remnants of melancholy (FUNARTE)

Small remnants of melancholy (FUNARTE)

Give my account of how I feel space inside one of the iconic cultural buildings of São Paulo, in Brazil_ FUNARTE. The exhibit is in the city capital until September 29th, 2019

Small remnants of melancholy

As we pass through the history of art, we come across images which infiltrate our senses, in some way, although we often cannot describe them. For example, the night-time images of solitary individuals in bars and cafes of Edward Hopper or the lost and distant views found in the paintings of Lucian Freud; images of melancholy landscapes, things left behind or ruins, spaces abandoned following recent or long-gone occupation, put us in the position of a narrator with no words to explain what happened there.

This specific selection at the Little Remnants of Melancholy exhibition include the works of six artists whose creations are inspired to a certain extent by, residual experiences, whether in the observation or the material. These remnants combine, in some way, around this building, the interior of this room, that are undergoing a slow process of abandonment, a place in which the celebrations are also loaded down by the weight of uncertainty and the question over where they are heading.

We may even be able to see ourselves in the silent spaces of Renata Pelegrini or become entangled in the mist of Pablo Ferreti. In the uncertainty of the places captured by Jordi Burch or in the hazy, deserted landscape of Kitty Paranaguá. Perhaps we ourselves should be responsible for finishing the work which Andrey Zignnatto began and are also accomplices in the war that the artist brings as a material memory. In the attempt to orchestrate the tide, perhaps we are Daniel Jablonski himself.

Whose house is this?
Whose night keeps out the light
In here?
Say, who owns this house?
It´s not mine.
I dreamed another, sweeter, brighter
With a view of lakes crossed in painted boats;
Of fields wide as arms open for me.
This house is strange.
Its shadows lie.
Say, tell me, why does its lock fit my key?”
(Toni Morrison)

The strange feeling of being in a crevice, a place we do not recognize but know we are inserted in, such as the house described in the extract from of the opening lines of Home, a novel from 2012 by Toni Morrison. I dare say that in places like this we find an inviting area where we can indulge in a little melancholy and wholeheartedly enter our body into the spaces provided by the artists. After all, meetings also occur in crevices.

Cadu Gonçalves