Solo Exhibit
Renata Pelegrini
“… paintings are not, as people think, feelings – they are experiences. For the sake of painting a single canvas, one must see many cities, men and things.”
Renata Pelegrini arrives at her second individual exhibition (the first in the Janaina Torres Gallery) reaffirming her dedication to painting and drawing. Her research on and questioning of the spaces and phenomenological sensations on this relatively recent journey has become more consistent.
Renata´s production is based on photographs – her own and those taken by others – of places she has visited. This relationship with these spaces transformed into places due to her own personal contact with them is primordial if we are to understand how her conception operates. Paradoxically, in the paintings and drawings, the spaces from which they originate are of little importance. It is the dimension which is not visible, captured by the artist, that transforms them into a place without space, and this, in turn, lifts the viewer to anywhere and everywhere. Even though the artist does not make any sleight of hand in doing this, the deletion of recognizable references also plays its part to this understanding. And a proof of this integrity with her process is the fact that at one point in her production Renata wondered whether to give titles to her works or not. I think the clarity she now has on this is important.
One of the most powerful dimensions of Art occurs when the artist is faced with reality and is not prepared to simply reproduce it but wants to allow the other person to (re)interpret it. It is like a game we play with our thought process in which it will recognize the playing field, learn the rules and decipher the signs until they are completely understood. It is where the interest very often disappears and we get used to it. If, on the other hand, we have to keep moving, landmarks alter and this changes what we see. It is in the game between what is recognizable and unrecognizable that our thinking is dislocated; these works of Renata Pelegrini provide a playing field where we can move. However, for this to occur, it is essential to have the presence of aspects that depend on the works for their existence but which occur outside them. These are aspects such as integrity, disquiet or power since the power of these works does not come from the strong strokes, the assertive line, the surgical incision, the innateness of the black or the thickness of the paint but from the possibility of the thinking of the person who sees them.
Disquiet is expressed in a similar way. Although we cannot dissociate it from artistic work (what artist can dispense with it?) and it makes itself more “visible” on the surface of the canvas or paper, the disquiet of an artist lies in the research, the dedication of doing something, the pursuit of something he or she has never lost and does not exactly know what it is or how it is. This need cannot be fully explained but is so strong in some artists that we can feel it. It can become almost tangible as if the artist was merging herself or himself with what causes them disquiet.
In the case of Renata Pelegrini, accompanying this “merging” will still bring us many surprises, discoveries and, of course, disquieting thoughts. I feel she will share with us, through her works, the idea that “I am the space where I am”.
Marcelo Salles
Adapted from Rainer Maria Rilke in The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge. The original version, with the parts altered in bold type, is: “Verses are not, as people think, feelings — they are experiences. For the sake of a few lines one must see many cities, men and things.”
Interview with Renata Pelegrini
Although line and drawing are strong components of your work, the quality of your painting highlights a strong operating territory. What does painting mean to you today?
It´s interesting how you use the word “strong” to speak about the two languages. I think what you are proposing brings together drawing and painting through one feature which is strength. And perhaps the strength does come from the line. The line may or may not expresses itself in my work, as it is not always so dominant, but it is the base of my thinking and was the highlight of my art instruction. It organizes the drawing and painting I do and actually means that the line organizes my thinking. Even so, my paintings and drawings are independent from each other. I paint without doing any previous drawings and when I draw I don´t have to paint what I have just drafted. These are processes that share the same base and also have the same support material (paper, canvas, linen, acetate). They all cooperate together for the “painting”, using the word you chose. I call what I do as an ‘exercise’, or an ‘attempt’. I think that practicing my thoughts through these ‘exercises’ means bringing together differences and reuniting possible ways of investigating things.
People have already defined your images as “mobile landscapes”. There is a certain instability in your form, a kind of swing between abstraction and figurative, between line and the mass of color. Do you make a rational choice when you paint? Is there a blueprint, like a building plan?
The lynchpin of these ‘attempts` as I called them when I answered your first question are the ‘rehearsal’, the ‘possibility’ of change. I would say the “plan” you mention is risky and open and unpretentious. What actually interests me is the readiness for something that could happen, the view towards another place where I can move. Sure, this might seem unstable and also can be seen as liberating, precisely because it is a creator of new paths. It is a fuel. In this sense, swinging between what could be abstract and figurative is something that does not make much sense in terms of what I do as it seems to me to be a purpose that is less open.
Japanese calligraphy, which is an element of your artistic education, is more or less clear in the black structures of certain works. It is particularly clearly highlighted in the drawings, incidentally. Where do you place yourself – in the Japanese thoroughness or the gestural strength of a Franz Kline?
Yes, Japanese as well as Chinese calligraphy attracted me at a certain time. This look opened a new understanding of the relationship between my body and the instrument, the instrument with the support material and the body in relation to the support material. You´re right in your comment about the paper. And I have to say that this also happens with the canvas. What interest me in both is the strength. I think that Franz Kline and the oriental calligraphies also interest me in this sense because of their strength. I would say that India ink is the safe haven in all this, one of the few stable elements in this oriental learning.
Yours is not a peaceful world, as has already been said. There is a lot of tension underlying these smooth and earthy tones of your paintings. A gesture emerges from the fullness, as well as the striking interventions and almost aggressive strong colors and the black. How do you see the blank canvas? Is the act of painting tense?
The tension, if you see it, is a choice. My work is not a transposition of my spiritual state at the moment or anything like that. It´s a choice and there is no drama in this, the risk in carrying out my work interests me.
Art feeds on art, but in your case it is difficult to point to leading influences. Is there any artist or artists you would like to pay tribute to and why?
Maybe Van Gogh, as he is one of the painters my mother loved. And as a reminder of this passion, there were two framed reproductions in our living room. They looked at me every day, vibrant and “unstable”. It was an encouragement I noted.
Although line and drawing are strong components of your work, the quality of your painting highlights a strong operating territory. What does painting mean to you today?
It´s interesting how you use the word “strong” to speak about the two languages. I think what you are proposing brings together drawing and painting through one feature which is strength. And perhaps the strength does come from the line. The line may or may not expresses itself in my work, as it is not always so dominant, but it is the base of my thinking and was the highlight of my art instruction. It organizes the drawing and painting I do and actually means that the line organizes my thinking. Even so, my paintings and drawings are independent from each other. I paint without doing any previous drawings and when I draw I don´t have to paint what I have just drafted. These are processes that share the same base and also have the same support material (paper, canvas, linen, acetate). They all cooperate together for the “painting”, using the word you chose. I call what I do as an ‘exercise’, or an ‘attempt’. I think that practicing my thoughts through these ‘exercises’ means bringing together differences and reuniting possible ways of investigating things.
People have already defined your images as “mobile landscapes”. There is a certain instability in your form, a kind of swing between abstraction and figurative, between line and the mass of color. Do you make a rational choice when you paint? Is there a blueprint, like a building plan?
The lynchpin of these ‘attempts` as I called them when I answered your first question are the ‘rehearsal’, the ‘possibility’ of change. I would say the “plan” you mention is risky and open and unpretentious. What actually interests me is the readiness for something that could happen, the view towards another place where I can move. Sure, this might seem unstable and also can be seen as liberating, precisely because it is a creator of new paths. It is a fuel. In this sense, swinging between what could be abstract and figurative is something that does not make much sense in terms of what I do as it seems to me to be a purpose that is less open.
Japanese calligraphy, which is an element of your artistic education, is more or less clear in the black structures of certain works. It is particularly clearly highlighted in the drawings, incidentally. Where do you place yourself – in the Japanese thoroughness or the gestural strength of a Franz Kline?
Yes, Japanese as well as Chinese calligraphy attracted me at a certain time. This look opened a new understanding of the relationship between my body and the instrument, the instrument with the support material and the body in relation to the support material. You´re right in your comment about the paper. And I have to say that this also happens with the canvas. What interest me in both is the strength. I think that Franz Kline and the oriental calligraphies also interest me in this sense because of their strength. I would say that India ink is the safe haven in all this, one of the few stable elements in this oriental learning.
Yours is not a peaceful world, as has already been said. There is a lot of tension underlying these smooth and earthy tones of your paintings. A gesture emerges from the fullness, as well as the striking interventions and almost aggressive strong colors and the black. How do you see the blank canvas? Is the act of painting tense?
The tension, if you see it, is a choice. My work is not a transposition of my spiritual state at the moment or anything like that. It´s a choice and there is no drama in this, the risk in carrying out my work interests me.
Art feeds on art, but in your case it is difficult to point to leading influences. Is there any artist or artists you would like to pay tribute to and why?
Maybe Van Gogh, as he is one of the painters my mother loved. And as a reminder of this passion, there were two framed reproductions in our living room. They looked at me every day, vibrant and “unstable”. It was an encouragement I noted.