Exhibition > Past > SEB Gallery

SEB Gallery 03.12.2003-09.01.2004


Winter paintings

People often ask, how would it be possible to stage chaos – how to do so that the world would be divided into structures and recognisable forms, but to accomplish it so that the mentioned structures, idea-related rooms, networks, etc. could not be labelled, arranged into colums or be otherwise classified, but enable us to speak about unreason, doubts, implacability with a limited vocabulary and irony. So – how to stage chaos, where prevails order.

Anne Parmasto and Valeri Vinogradov are of the same age, they were born in the 1950ies and started as artists in the 1970ies, reached the top of the local artistic world in the 1980ies and left the 1990ies to be the period, when to give their best against becoming classics, against becoming rigid. Creation of both of them has occupied areas that do not belong into regular stream beds (how clichė – like does it sound, but that’s the way the things are), they have kept apart from manifesting groupings and art history – related terminology. Good sense of colouring – is said about Parmasto. Strong force of generalisation – is claimed while talking about Vinogradov. And only here is the starting point of things.

This certain confusion, connected with the works of Parmasto and Vinogradov, is easy to come. First of all the ordinary fear against “the abstract”, when the painting is talking to us not by using our own language, but with key words, being purely characteristic to a painting. But then is seen another angle angle of the phenomenon, as neither Parmasto nor especially Vinogradov still do not seem to belong among those, to whom is of importance screening out features that are only characteristic to painting (colour, brush strike, sense of room, etc.). By using on the painting surface texts, quotes from art history (Michelangelo’s David leaning on brown), stamps and other objects that can be found from the surrounding environment, Vinogradov torpedos undertakings, applying for the innocent autonomy of a painting. Irony, say in this case some of us. Maybe it really is.

Paintings by Anne Parmasto should most probably be viewed in turns in two contexts and then the results should be brought together. Setting the works of  “good sense of colour” among lounge paintings, where the bread is sweet and water is wine, we immediately detect differences: Parmasto does not retell anything, her work are cooled off in a narrative sense and instead of depiction we see vigorous splashes of colour, impressions without comments, inducements without explanations. Here the trigger of the emotional gun is constantly pressed down. Yes, chaos, would say Kalle Blomkvist.

But let’s take Parmasto’s paintings for a moment among the works, which belong to the gold fund of abstract expressionism – let’s place her next to Pollock, Liivat or Kaasik and we can see that here we can find measurings, accounting, calculating and alignment, Rothko rather than Jackson. Really – this ought to be like this, when the chaos is complete.

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