Neon Driving

Neon Driving

Olympe Racana-Weiler breaks the immanent dazzling of the painting, and survives it. Through the work Naked City, she evokes both the incandescence of Rome’s Coliseum and the stratifications of History. She wishes to make people seek for an unseizable presence when looking at her paintings.

Thanks to an upbringing dedicated to dance, she developed a strong sensitivity to space, movements and lightings. Now, instead of her body, it is her brushes that are dancing staccato, allegro, muffled or luminous moves, on human-scale-canvas. Since then, her omnipresence is incarnated in this painting.

However, the first move’s virtuosity is endangered by the antagonism of different mediums. The iridescent ink retracts in the turpentine oil table. The spray foams. The residues infuse and stick in the canvas. Coloured rubbles are making their way up until stopped by rocks on paint. Some crackles convey a geological scale, interrupted by this flesh-colour belonging to cellular scale. Ultramarine, bright pink, violet and dioxide red tones sometimes spring in the silence of colours’ ranges. Dark brightnesses arise from the flow of the iridescent ink, extremely instable and yet resisting to any covers.

The challenge for Olympe Racana-Weiler is to materialise the process of painting. The Mercure Sauvage’s reflecting aluminium plate blooms like an eye starring at us. Flows, striations, spots and shadows evoke a retinal vision, like a déjà-vu reminding us of Gilles Deleuze’s sentence about Cézanne. “The man is missing because totally absorbed into the landscape”. Almost like germination, this materialization of a slippery memory is elusive and the eyes, similar to a lighthouse inside of us, are constantly looking for something. Painting is personified. Cuts, scratches and inversions show the sculptural dimension of her work, a force field held between emptiness and fullness.

She stands as an active presence.

To the artist’s mind, paintings can save men from their memory and words are defeated by her plastic force. Those internal landscapes free us from the infernal mirror by making us cope with the unthinkable. It is necessary to quit the space of “parlêtre” in order to enter another temporality. No line, no angle: we lost ourselves inside these paintings, where only the frame can bring us back to reality. We are inside the map of an insane yet prodigiously concrete world.

Neon Driving

  • Galerie Eric Dupont's Exhibitions 14

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