ARTISTS
Maximillian Brown: As Two Flies Danced
Maybe that鈥檚 how we got it wrong - that we can鈥檛 have a metaphysical body - that the transcendental is light flight - leaving behind the gravitational pull of bodily existence.
We always have to leave. Ye olde mind body dualism. Body and soul must depart. Au revoir. For the heavens. Transcend.
Stay. Lay down back in bed. I see your imprint in the sheets. I know that you are here - or were. Pull yourself back into your body. I need you here. I believe in transcendental painting. I believe these paintings. Paintings with girth and weight. The smell of oil and soil. Musky landscapes. Crisp morning mountains. Abstract fjords with a sexy deep existential void. Blink. The surfaces rupture and reform. Blink. The landscape is shaking with you. Not searching for god(s), nor for myself, but for the connection beyond. These paintings have their own visual voice, their own relations, their own materiel agency. Autonomy. Let鈥檚 dance.
Traces of hours of labour embedded in cotton canvas. Ancient work. These paintings didn鈥檛 paint themselves. The painters hope. The light lit in an Indonesian cave 51.200 years ago. Talk about religion. Inner and outer landscapes. Please - the cliches are true. Multiple dimensions - is consciousness one of them? Perhaps also fundamental? With these paintings, a non-dual approach to the practice. Forget the head for a moment. Let your body think. There is nothing to step into. You have already arrived. Forget the head. These paintings are not riddles. There is nothing to solve. Sit with them. Like trees. Or rocks. Or friends. Or foes. Or horizons. - Jesper Elg
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Maybe that鈥檚 how we got it wrong - that we can鈥檛 have a metaphysical body - that the transcendental is light flight - leaving behind the gravitational pull of bodily existence.
We always have to leave. Ye olde mind body dualism. Body and soul must depart. Au revoir. For the heavens. Transcend.
Stay. Lay down back in bed. I see your imprint in the sheets. I know that you are here - or were. Pull yourself back into your body. I need you here. I believe in transcendental painting. I believe these paintings. Paintings with girth and weight. The smell of oil and soil. Musky landscapes. Crisp morning mountains. Abstract fjords with a sexy deep existential void. Blink. The surfaces rupture and reform. Blink. The landscape is shaking with you. Not searching for god(s), nor for myself, but for the connection beyond. These paintings have their own visual voice, their own relations, their own materiel agency. Autonomy. Let鈥檚 dance.
Traces of hours of labour embedded in cotton canvas. Ancient work. These paintings didn鈥檛 paint themselves. The painters hope. The light lit in an Indonesian cave 51.200 years ago. Talk about religion. Inner and outer landscapes. Please - the cliches are true. Multiple dimensions - is consciousness one of them? Perhaps also fundamental? With these paintings, a non-dual approach to the practice. Forget the head for a moment. Let your body think. There is nothing to step into. You have already arrived. Forget the head. These paintings are not riddles. There is nothing to solve. Sit with them. Like trees. Or rocks. Or friends. Or foes. Or horizons. - Jesper Elg
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