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| Ēriks Apaļais: The essence circulates constantly Vilnis Vējš, Art Critic, Curator E-correspondence between Vilnis Vējš and artist Ēriks Apaļais | |
 Ēriks Apaļais. 2010 | |
| From a distance it seems that your life at present is one celebration after another: you recently graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Hamburg, with your diploma work being considered the best. Rīga Art Space has nominated you for the ars viva 11/12 prize, awarded to young artists whose activities have links with Germany. Currently you’re preparing for a solo exhibition at the respected Vera Munro Gallery. How did you achieve this? And is everything really so rosy – you’re not being threatened by, for example, fatigue, panic or suicidal thoughts? In the essay for my diploma work I wrote about the internal feeling of time and space in Tarkovsky’s films and in St. Augustine’s work ‘Confessions’, about the way they develop narrative, how they inspire, poeticizing flickers of memory at a metaphysical level. In my own work I try to create a reflection of internal memory processes. In it designators – the carriers of meaning in memory – circulate like elements about a single colour field and create associations. The associations as if open / close, and the meaning is to be found in their mutual interaction. The danger, when creating such images, lies in the circumstances that it is possible to speculate all too easily; by juggling with the few tools at hand and rearranging them, to create deceptive traps in “readability”. I am nevertheless interested in precision in this abstract, poetic circulation of elements. Speaking of practical life here, I must admit that I’m very happy about recent events, as they give a sort of feeling of security or more belief. The correspondence with Jānis Avotiņš has been a great support, I don’t want to hide that; fundamentally important issues have crystallized through this communication. With Vera Munro I’ve been in contact for a number years and she’s been following what I’m doing, and now she’s offered to work with me – this didn’t occur spontaneously. I read your essay about St. Augustine and Tarkovsky, and enjoyed the clarity with which you’ve expressed your thoughts. Avotiņš really is an excellent correspondent. An artist can be an essentialist, who considers that only one single particular way is “correct”, and that is the way in which he is thinking at that time. Whereas a critic, if we use Rorty’s division, has to be more of an ironist, and however categorical, he has to admit that between every ‘yes’ and ‘no’ (about which, of course, he must have a position), there exists a certain zone of fluctuation in which no-one knows what’s happening, and in art this is particularly relevant. Otherwise you may not notice what’s happening. You write that recently you feel a little safer and more confident. Do you recall the time when you made the decision to reject a fairly predictable way of life and focused on art, although there was no guarantee of success? I’ve just returned home from Gerhard Richter’s exhibition; it’s been a long and very interesting day. Richter is a painter I strongly relate to and, I think, one of the most interesting around today. Through painting and the grammar of painting he creates models, or an evocative visuality – a photo, for instance, becomes readable. So through brushwork and painterly techniques he reflects on the dramaturgy of reading a photo as subjective material of documentation. Even though discussion about the subjectivity of history today is banal, because it has been gone over so many times in recent years; documentation and fiction etc. The most interesting thing about Richter, in my opinion, is that he is trying to focus his vision. He neutralizes it by removing feelings, pain, longing and so on, but this removal, as a methodic approach to images, is not dry, because the as if castrated vision is still loaded with belief and longing, which are very abstract and subjectively tangible. That’s why I think he’s great, because there are contradictions within him, that circulate within themselves. Richter as if distances himself from the image, because the image is only an image, a photo is only a photo, but not the thing itself. At the same time, there is a palpable wish to find the source of meaning of an image, in all its complexity. Doubts and belief, as is usually written about him. About Jānis Avotiņš: it is true that he is categorical and very critical, though this is to the benefit for our correspondence, as time and again I have come to rethink and weigh up many of the solutions I had arrived at in painting, directly through the influence of our correspondence. Moreover, to my mind he is a very good artist, as he not only clearly and seriously thinks about what he’s doing, but he is also able to translate this very well into his paintings. What I remember from Rorty – and this is what I like about him – is that all existing models of thinking are constructs from the history of civilization, and that one shouldn’t get particularly worked up about such concepts as ‘truth’, ‘reality’ and similar, as this is trivial. | |
 Ēriks Apaļais. Mirror. Acrylic on canvas. 240x195 cm. 2011. Courtesy of Vera Munro Gallery | |
| The risk of irony lies hidden in the fact that the one who is being ironic maintains a distance, observes and comments, but doesn’t get involved at all himself. Such an attitude, among artists for instance, doesn’t really attract me, as it can happen that someone is commenting from the sidelines, but may not have really understood what the discussion is about. For example, the artists who appropriate and ironise modernist explorations in their pure form. Understood: that was a utopian and subjective period in art, but the vision which modernists stimulated is in itself logical and believable – if one enters into the spirit of it, even for a moment. Although irony can provide lightness and divert the focus from heavy-duty searches for meaning. Irony is charming, if it is respect-ful with regard to the thing that it is ironising. I took up art somewhat by accident and initially through a naïve wish to ‘shout’ out something, I wasn’t really fully aware of what it was. I didn’t really hear myself consciously saying anything. At that time art also seemed to be something special. The artist as a special individual in society. At the moment I feel gratified that after all those years I spent studying here, throwing myself into this and that, searching and doubting, I’ve managed to slowly reach something akin to a position in painting. In any case the Hamburg Academy is very good, in my opinion, with a long-standing tradition and great lecturers. I think that I’ve gained a lot, not just in the field of art, but also in thinking about life. Painting is action, behaviour. The same way that behaviour is our relationship with the world. How to find one’s own criteria for behaviour, when living in a culture with a variety of traditions – that, of course, is the question. I too tend to take issue with artists who offer ‘irony’ as something that could be completely different, and always cross their fingers, just in case they need a path of retreat. It seems to me that an artist has to be convinced that his work is the only and perfect way that an idea can be executed. At times, joy about some works by young Latvian artists is ruined on seeing the extent to which, without much thought, the instilled “models” have been repeated in them, something has simply turned out or been added to make things more interesting. These are the times I want to say, like some old teacher: “Think for yourself!” I have noticed that your works are both spontaneous as well as logical, despite your slightly playful (perhaps even exaggeratedly childish – I previously thought) approach. Has this emerged from your personality, or was the ability to structure your vision and explain why it’s this way and not some other taught to you at university? ...today I woke up and then for much of the day was in a dream-like state, the nightmares kept appearing again. Although sometimes it seems that I can control everything with my consciousness and mind, I always come up against an inability to influence my subconscious the way that I’d like, more accurately – there’s no separation, as it is possible that day / consciousness is the same reality as sleep / unconsciousness. It influences and forms the day’s outlook. For example, it’s not possible to get rid of sadness and longing with your mind. Sometimes in my dreams I see my grandma’s house where I spent my childhood summers, and that feeling of happiness in my dream has a potency which I never experience during the day. That’s a bit personally... Continuing on about the appropriation approach, I think that in this way it is possible to avoid taking on the burden of being someone unprecedentedly unique, because everything is a continuation of the existing, the repetition may have an interesting character. To me, Rodney Graham is super, even though he appropriates. His references from Marcel Bruder, Mallarme et al, and poeticizing them, quoting, revelation of context, is complex. The best thing is – it’s obvious that he respects and understands these artists. Respect, criticism and humour is balanced in the right proportion. I have an interesting relationship with my teacher Andreas Slominski, hmm, how can I put it best – sometimes we understand each other from a single word, and at others there is a steely loftiness / iciness in the air. Slominski himself always chooses the students he wants in his class. You will only be accepted if he has observed and invited you himself. That’s how it was for me as well – he asked if I wish to study with him, to which I answered yes. He has a sharp mind, fine powers of observation and a good imagination, but at times he gets stranded in his own view of things. In any case, for me he is an important person, one from whom I have learnt a great deal, about life as well. It’s hard for me to compare with art education in Latvia, as I haven’t studied at the LMA [Art Academy of Latvia], but I think that there’s a good formal tradition there, though there is a possibility that it’s a little staid or not open-minded enough contents-wise. But, personally I think that it’s not all black / white and that in Latvia, probably, there are the strong sides which, if stimulated in the right direction, could develop into something. There are so many different strands of fashion in art which, as you wrote, is an area where no-one knows what’s happening, where the essence is circulating and moving around. But, listen, I’d be happy if you’d write down your thoughts about my recent works, about my text, so that we could talk about nuances, because I don’t want to talk just about myself. | |
 Ēriks Apaļais. S. Oil and acrylic o canvas. 140x195 cm. 2010. Courtesy of Vera Munro Gallery | |
| I am very careful how I comment on works which I can only see on the computer screen, so I don’t claim to offer an assessment. There’s a black field with separate details, but it seems to me that the materiality of the colour is very crucial, as you justifiably write, it is time materialized etc. The same goes for the brush stroke, the impression: I am very sceptical of those who think they know everything, have seen everything within half a second on the computer screen, without digging deeper, without engaging their mind. And their judgment is ready. I think that you yourself know such experts personally, I don’t have to name names. On the other hand, a friend once told me that a good film can be distinguished from a bad one even when shown on a black and white television set with a room antenna, and there is some truth in that. Recently I was researching times gone by – the Sixties and Seventies – when in art the “internal world” was the alpha and omega. Your example, Tarkovsky, rose out of this same stream. But that’s always been more to do with surrealism or expression, while you approach the “internal world” with an abstract, analytical approach. That’s why my telly shows those works better on coloured backgrounds, even a painting of snow. There’s always a problem with internal and external worlds, that two different internal ones aren’t comparable, they are closed if there aren’t any references to the external one, familiar to everyone, through which we can communicate. That’s why that same Tarkovsky is always tormented by semiotic analysis and all sorts of other things. The language of abstraction – numbers, mathematics – is also universal, that’s why we can communicate through it. So the way that you create allusions to something recognizable, some similarity, and then immediately dismantle it, is very arresting. I do fear, however, that the viewer regardless seeks similarities to objects, conventional codes of emotion, symbols, because otherwise – what are they to think? Unless they are so advanced (as people of the art world probably are, who are inside that whole process in which you’re currently participating), that the pleasure is provided by the flirtation with allusion, enticement, rebuff and dissembling. In any case I’m happy that with such a slippery topic as memories you’ve left behind the presence of infantile – not in a bad sense, but still – personalities. In their place there is the suggestion of form that reminds us of something but does not explain what, doesn’t show but makes us intuit. One can only guess what lies “behind”, something to try to compare to one’s own experience, but can’t, because it isn’t known with what to compare, etc. So, keep on going, my friend! But I assume that readers may also be interested in something completely domestic. Please do write about this! It was interesting to read, I just got back home, this book I’m putting together, ‘Confessions’, which I presented at the Contemporary Art Centre a year ago, i.e., sketches. Today, while revising it, I saw how weak it all is; I’m thinking of radically cutting the text, making it more abstract and building the narrative differently through drawings. It probably won’t even be a book, but... hmm, it’s a secret. I can’t understand why Studija doesn’t simply pay for your flight to the exhibition. Now I’m hurrying off to a friend’s birthday. Today I fixed my bike and enjoyed the sunshine. The sun is so beautiful and so good! * Talking about internal images – it’s a subjective pursuit, I am aware of this, nevertheless in subjectivity I seek for a type of abstract tangible essence. This essence usually takes shape using various elements of language. For example, there is 8 as a number, [but] a snowman also contains the same shape of 8. Yet each has developed in a different way; these elements have, as if through my subjective experience, crystallized into words. I use these words to create sentences, but a sentence is not linear – the dramaturgy of reading paintings can happen in various ways. The abstraction or deconstruction of signs allows each word to reverberate into the next word, therefore elements usually include some part of another element – whether through a stroke of the brush, a form or, possibly, a readable part of the key word. For example, the broken stick in the word Words is like a snowman’s wooden arm, like a broken letter L. But, reading it like this, doubt arises whether the snowman is a snowman or planets as well, and consequently the chain of the search for the meaning of the stick is no longer relevant either. Meaning circulates independently through these elements, but it’s important that this circulation isn’t speculative. Its essence is subjectively precise. Basically I am searching for something like the dispersal principle of meaning, the progress of which I could show through my work. It is important that these individual elements are painted with a brush. I search for and try to balance between an analytically distanced approach and belief in the possibility of finding meaning in this truly abstract word chain. I don’t wish to mechanically comment, but also to search. Tarkovsky’s powerful symbols – flying candles, little pigeons, Bach – are often misunderstood, or even considered to be kitsch, but his ability to conjure up an internal sense of time through the rhythm of images is unique. Metaphysics, as we know, is elusive but I think that it’s possible to sense which is an organically, truly expressed image beyond language, and which is a sham. I’m rushing off to another party, I’ll write soon, these last few days I’ve been on the go constantly. You’ve written quite exhaustively about your creative ideas and approach, but you’re not very open about your own life! What are you specifically doing each day for your approaching exhibition, and what else do you do – just to broaden your horizons? …well, for instance, today I tidied the room, cleaned the windows, that’s a very important thing so that I can have a clear view of outside, and listened to music (Bach). I’m gradually moving into a new workshop. For now I’ve found a very small space, 14 square metres, but with a beautiful view, good light and a positive aura :) Yesterday I sat there for the first three hours, cleaned everything, including the windows, lit a candle, snacked on fresh bread and water and a couple bananas on top of that… Sat down at the table, looked out the window, placed a yellow rose in a vase, opened my diary and wrote out the things that are worrying me, bothering me and won’t give me peace. After a couple of hours I felt my soul settling down and I returned to myself for a moment. In no time at all, I was at an Asian canteen and having dinner. I spent the day completely alone, didn’t meet anyone at all. In the evening I had wanted to go out, but at the last moment I changed my mind, as I was feeling tired. Often in the evenings I reread Chekhov’s short stories. At what stage are you currently with your coming exhibition (will it already be open when the magazine comes out)? With that we could round up the discussion (forgive me the frivolous pun!)1 As regards the exhibition, it’s like this. I have collected works from the past six months, a year, selecting the best. In addition, the month after the diploma I painted four or five new ones. I have a very good understanding with gallerist Vera, I like her as a person as well, not just professionally; I like both her attitude as well as many of the artists in the gallery programme. So everything, I should think, will be OK. Today nothing special happened, ah, I dreamt about the seaside and sandhills. How beautiful it would be to spend some time on the beach during the summer, resting, lying about in the sun, swimming, and then in the evening to go into Vecrīga for a beer with friends, huh, come June, I think I’ll be in Riga! /Translator into English: Uldis Brūns/ 1 Ed. note: A literal translation of the artist’s surname Apaļais would be ‘The Round One’ | |
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