Troilo, Unknown

Paolo Troilo, Unknown
Acrylic on canvas

A modern artist. Not often I get exposed to them funnily enough. Apart from the local art gallery, I don't find myself seeing a lot of new works, but browsing the internet does become useful sometimes. I stumbled across Paolo Troilo, an artist based in Milan, in a forum one day. After checking out his website, well frankly, I'm in love with his works.

He works almost exclusively with black and ivory paint, which creates a dramatic effect. Also remarkably, he uses just his hands to create the twisted forms on his canvas. There's something just a bit intimate about this, like he's betraying more about himself than the artist who uses tools on the canvas. When he's done creating his writhing bodies, he'll splatter and smudge paint to create the most beautiful wispy effect.

I use the painting above as an example, but it was really hard to pick out just one I wanted to talk about among the many others that I mulled over. I also couldn't find a title, date or size for the piece, so I'll have to stick with unknown until I find the time to research more.

But I mean, just look at him. The anatomy in which you can almost reach out and feel the contours, the smooth cool skin like sculpted marble. The man who once sat in the dark being illuminated by a heavenly light, a spiritual glow.

But this is where I absolutely love the way Troilo has stayed away from this idea of calmness and peacefulness. The man is being torn from his skin. There's not this gentle ascension out from the shadows, it's torture. It's strange, because we can't see the face so clearly, it's very obscured. However I can feel the grimace of pain, the clenching of the jaw, the furrowing of the brow, the valiant attempt to simply endure the pain. Every cell is starting to protest, to scream in pain and resist the transition... it's killing him.

It's like Troilo has taken every calm and peaceful religious ascension that we see in classical paintings and twisted it into something tangible. He's turned the saint-like apparition to someone more human, more empathetic. I also don't get the immediate feeling that this is a religious painting, but there is definitely something metaphysical or otherworldly about it.
The ominous blackness around him just adds to this contrast of light and dark, this duality. Maybe it's a reflection of the man himself, his own inner split.

I'll be keeping tabs on Troilo in the future, I can't wait to see if he continues to produce such beautiful works.

McCall, You and I, Horizontal (2005)

Can I claim a year and a half hiatus? Really no excuse, just haven't been writing about the pieces I've been seeing. Hoping to fix that in the upcoming weeks!

So yesterday I managed to go see The Light Show that was being held at the Auckland Art Gallery, and it was absolutely worth the trip. As the name suggests, it was a collection of artworks based around light, however what was great about it was how the works spanned over so many years but seemed to flow together so seamlessly with this common thread. It was also great being in an exhibition that was so simple yet interactive, many pieces really invited (or even forced) the viewer into them.

I must say, I wasn't too sure about it at first, I wasn't too taken by the first few artworks. The first piece that struck me was Chromosaturation (1965) by Carlos Cruz-Diez. Simply put, it was three white-walled chambers with different dominating lights: blue, green and red. There was something really unsettling about it, we're never really exposed to just a pure hue before, I felt a bit unsteady walking through it. But it was also quite relaxing, it's not often that you have such a minimalist space with all outside distractions taken out, almost meditative, and any artwork that has this quality usually wins me over quite quickly.

However the piece I'd really like to talk about is McCall's You and I, Horizontal (2005), which I went back to a few times in between other pieces because of how much I fell in love with it. In essence it's pretty simple, but that's just another reason why I love it so much. It's an installation with a projector that has a simple pattern of shapes projected on a wall that are very slowly moving, with a haze machine that causes these beams to be illuminated within the space. I recommend going to YouTube and having a quick look at it in action, my explanation may not really convey it that well and probably doesn't do the piece much justice.

Anthony McCall, You and I, Horizontal, 2005
Installation; computer, computer script, video projector, and haze machine, 50 min. 
cycle in six parts, dimensions variable.
Collection SFMOMA

It's such a simple idea that isn't completely foreign or 'out there', beams of light that are unveiled using a haze machine. A common theme in many night clubs with strobes and lasers. But there's just something so mesmerising about them, especially in such a calm and simple setting. At first I stood out of the light as others were playing around in them, which in itself was great to watch, both in how they disrupted the light in their movements and left silhouettes. But as they left, leaving me and my mum in the dark room by ourselves, it was fascinating just to see the untouched light. So sharp, cutting through space in sweeping arcs and intersections, slowly moving and changing at an almost discernible pace.

However the moment that I was truly in love with the installation was the moment when I entered the pure beams. The rest of the room is partially obscured by just the strong and overpowering light hitting you. But you stop paying attention to that, and just focus on these almost ethereal beams around you. The fog isn't a uniform haze, it's almost like an artificial water that faintly flows over the light. This adds to the illusion that these beams aren't just a ghostly apparition, but solid arcs and planes. What makes this so eerie is your presence in them, interrupting and altering them while also changing the sinuous fog that allows them to present themselves.

It's a strange feeling trying to reach out and grab or interact with these solid surfaces, only to have your hand fall through them. I was alternating between moving my body to interrupt and watch the fog change its flow, and trying to reach out and touch the beams. It causes this almost inferior or humble feeling, being unable to slightly change but not touch what's in front of you. But then there's this contrast when you notice how your very presence, your whole body, is disrupting and changing these beams too. It all depends on which direction you're looking at, towards the light you feel inferior and transient, looking away from it you feel large and powerful. It's a really contrasting and oscillating feeling. Humorous but also meditative, a new experience for me.

I wish I had more time with this installation, but we moved on as people started to pour into the room. It's really an experience you should have in small numbers or by yourself. Maybe another trip before it finishes in early February is in order?