
Buttercups 2008
In the work Buttercups, a charged and powerful encounter unfolds between the tradition of still-life painting and the language of Abstract Expressionism. The artist dismantles the structure of the floral bouquet through intense, gestural brushstrokes, as bursts of vibrant red break through the monochromatic background. Vertical paint drips and aggressive brushwork charge the composition with a dynamic energy, evoking sensations of wildness and fleeting vulnerability. Greenish and grayish contours define the fragmentation and density of the bouquet, thereby transforming the familiar botanical image into a complex site of emotional and psychological action. This monumental work distills the Modernist tension between figurative representation and pure material abstraction. The piece is composed across two canvases—forming a diptych—and is executed in a combination of acrylic and enamel.

Jasmine Ronel
As I work, lines, marks, and forms coalesce and congeal; the next touch will undoubtedly cover and conceal part of these developments, yet never entirely. In certain areas, the underlying layers remain active, breathing and effervescing. The palpable materiality pushing from beneath exerts pressure, as the underpainting - or figures and fragments of imagery - persists within another stratum. The distinctions between the surfaces are technical, material, and conceptual. Frequently, the initial layers are constructed from 'easily digestible' materials - predominantly plastic-based - which slightly soil the canvas and establish an initial point of reference. Subsequently, following the drying process, the next layer rectifies (or destroys), engaging with areas through thought and the mind. At almost every stage, the painting 'proposes' a new point of departure: there is an observation of and response to the composition, and to the overarching concept of where things are heading. At times, the subject is negated; at others, it manages to 'hold its ground' and survives until the end. The materials in the later layers are already 'heavy,' imbued with self-importance and scent. These are far less forgiving, demanding their place upon the canvas. At this stage, the workflow is governed by the chemistry of the mediums and the internal flow pent up within them, which takes an independent and welcome direction. The concluding layer appears 'light and flat,' though opaque in most instances. Textures and directions may pass through it, but materiality and color cannot. Instead, these break through the 'wounds' - those ruptures that expose the convergence of flesh and skin within the painterly body. The conclusions derived from one work do not necessarily apply to the next. The subsequent piece often rebels against those very solutions, offering a different possibility that is seemingly antithetical to its predecessor. I find it difficult to place trust in a closed stylistic or painterly stance (be it a signature hand, subject, or language). For me, the act of painting is an adventurous and surprising journey that constructs and dismantles states, touching upon and crossing painterly territories that were once autonomous.
As I work, lines, marks, and forms coalesce and congeal; the next touch will undoubtedly cover and conceal part of these developments, yet never entirely. In certain areas, the underlying layers remain active, breathing and effervescing. The palpable materiality pushing from beneath exerts pressure, as the underpainting - or figures and fragments of imagery - persists within another stratum. The distinctions between the surfaces are technical, material, and conceptual. Frequently, the initial layers are constructed from 'easily digestible' materials - predominantly plastic-based - which slightly soil the canvas and establish an initial point of reference. Subsequently, following the drying process, the next layer rectifies (or destroys), engaging with areas through thought and the mind. At almost every stage, the painting 'proposes' a new point of departure: there is an observation of and response to the composition, and to the overarching concept of where things are heading. At times, the subject is negated; at others, it manages to 'hold its ground' and survives until the end. The materials in the later layers are already 'heavy,' imbued with self-importance and scent. These are far less forgiving, demanding their place upon the canvas. At this stage, the workflow is governed by the chemistry of the mediums and the internal flow pent up within them, which takes an independent and welcome direction. The concluding layer appears 'light and flat,' though opaque in most instances. Textures and directions may pass through it, but materiality and color cannot. Instead, these break through the 'wounds' - those ruptures that expose the convergence of flesh and skin within the painterly body. The conclusions derived from one work do not necessarily apply to the next. The subsequent piece often rebels against those very solutions, offering a different possibility that is seemingly antithetical to its predecessor. I find it difficult to place trust in a closed stylistic or painterly stance (be it a signature hand, subject, or language). For me, the act of painting is an adventurous and surprising journey that constructs and dismantles states, touching upon and crossing painterly territories that were once autonomous.