When I first saw Ella Kruglyanskaya's work at The Hole's Chicken or Beef exhibition this past February, I remember being transfixed by the curvy figures, vigorous brushstrokes, and brightness of her canvases. So it would made sense that when I stopped by her current show at OKO gallery, Monster Bathers, Blue Scribble, and Others, I heard a loud, clear, delighted "yes!" inside my head. I had fallen under the spell again. I asked Ella a few questions, below.
Alexandre Stipanovich: Would you say there's an air of nostalgia in your paintings?
Ella Kruglyanskaya: No, I don't think my work is "nostalgic" at all, or at least, I would consider it a failure if it was read that way. Nostalgia implies a certain preciousness and my work is really not precious. If anything, it satirizes preciousness in painting. The women in my work have a strong presence, and to do that they need to occupy some space––be somewhat exaggerated. The extra curviness is often the result of that intention.
There's definitely a visual connection to the past. I am very interested in the history of representation, the links between some very ancient examples from all over the world, and how those things entered the modernist vocabulary in the 20th century, when people decided that painting was flat. I also see those same visual links follow into design territory, textiles, and graphic arts. I am very interested in these connections, and it all informs my work. But I don't see it as an emotional caressing of the forms past––it's more of a basis for keeping this conversation current.
In your canvases, men are physically absent but metaphorically present––there are male faces, for example, painted onto the women's dresses. The men look sardonic and tense, whereas the women look quiet and natural. What made you choose to represent them this way; is it a way to represent the male sexual desire for women?
The decision wasn't made according to a narrative logic. These were ways to complicate the goings on, and to add drama. There is one level of action in the figures themselves, and then additional readings within the figures. The "monster" faces can be read as "male" but I think they are closer to a kabuki mask than a face of a man. You could probably read into the fact that I chose to reduce the male presence to a cartoon, but I don't want to get too literal here. I could never attempt to "represent" male desire. In a funny way, the question itself is posed from a very male point of view... The protagonist is a she––it is her desires, her desire to be desired, and her obsessions that are the subject.
Tell us a little bit about your painting technique.
Talking about technique in painting is like talking about technique in cooking; it often sounds the same––"chop carrots and onions, sauté until tender..." The results of the same description could be vastly different, but the difference happens not in a special shade of blue that I used and the others didn't, but somewhere a bit more non-verbal. I am very particular with my surfaces; though they are not all the same, I often make my own gessoes, my own egg tempera paint––not for the sake of making it more special, but to achieve a certain degree of paint absorption, for instance. But if I discovered a ready-made product tomorrow that would suit all of my needs and I wouldn't need to make my own, I would switch immediately! I always try to do the minimum amount of labor required, but sometimes the minimum is quite a lot.
Monster Bathers, Blue Scribble, and Others, is open through January 11, 2014 at OKO
OKO GALLERY
220 E 1
Alexandre Stipanovich: Would you say there's an air of nostalgia in your paintings?
Ella Kruglyanskaya: No, I don't think my work is "nostalgic" at all, or at least, I would consider it a failure if it was read that way. Nostalgia implies a certain preciousness and my work is really not precious. If anything, it satirizes preciousness in painting. The women in my work have a strong presence, and to do that they need to occupy some space––be somewhat exaggerated. The extra curviness is often the result of that intention.
There's definitely a visual connection to the past. I am very interested in the history of representation, the links between some very ancient examples from all over the world, and how those things entered the modernist vocabulary in the 20th century, when people decided that painting was flat. I also see those same visual links follow into design territory, textiles, and graphic arts. I am very interested in these connections, and it all informs my work. But I don't see it as an emotional caressing of the forms past––it's more of a basis for keeping this conversation current.
In your canvases, men are physically absent but metaphorically present––there are male faces, for example, painted onto the women's dresses. The men look sardonic and tense, whereas the women look quiet and natural. What made you choose to represent them this way; is it a way to represent the male sexual desire for women?
The decision wasn't made according to a narrative logic. These were ways to complicate the goings on, and to add drama. There is one level of action in the figures themselves, and then additional readings within the figures. The "monster" faces can be read as "male" but I think they are closer to a kabuki mask than a face of a man. You could probably read into the fact that I chose to reduce the male presence to a cartoon, but I don't want to get too literal here. I could never attempt to "represent" male desire. In a funny way, the question itself is posed from a very male point of view... The protagonist is a she––it is her desires, her desire to be desired, and her obsessions that are the subject.
Tell us a little bit about your painting technique.
Talking about technique in painting is like talking about technique in cooking; it often sounds the same––"chop carrots and onions, sauté until tender..." The results of the same description could be vastly different, but the difference happens not in a special shade of blue that I used and the others didn't, but somewhere a bit more non-verbal. I am very particular with my surfaces; though they are not all the same, I often make my own gessoes, my own egg tempera paint––not for the sake of making it more special, but to achieve a certain degree of paint absorption, for instance. But if I discovered a ready-made product tomorrow that would suit all of my needs and I wouldn't need to make my own, I would switch immediately! I always try to do the minimum amount of labor required, but sometimes the minimum is quite a lot.
Monster Bathers, Blue Scribble, and Others, is open through January 11, 2014 at OKO
OKO GALLERY
220 E 1