In the torrid Roman summer, until the end of July, the public can visit two extremely different exhibitions, but both encapsulating the therapeutic power of painting and, more specifically, self-portraits. These exhibitions are hosted by the Lorcan O’Neill Gallery in Vicolo dei Catinari and the Richter Gallery in Vicolo del Curato, respectively. Two white cubes hidden among the narrow Roman streets, separated by just under a 15-minute walk, through Campo dei Fiori, which is dominated by the austere bronze gaze of Giordano Bruno, and the stormy “gaze” of Corso Vittorio Emanuele II.
At the Lorcan O’Neill, the exhibition entitled You Should Have Saved Me is a solo show by the renowned British artist Tracey Emin, while at the Richter Gallery the exhibition entitled Alica is a solo show by Andrej Dubravsky, a young established Slovakian artist.
Emin, who rose to prominence in the British art wave of the 1990s, which was characterised by scandalous and shocking works, retains a certain subversive charge and her painting reveals a soul constantly in turmoil. The works in the exhibition are extremely expressive, employing an exaggerated gesturality, at times with a paintbrush full of colour, at times using an almost “empty” paintbrush and at still other times referencing various masters from art history: Egon Schiele with his grotesque intimate paintings, Cy Twombly and his doodles, and Edvard Munch’s distinctive inner gloom.
Dubravsky, after a series of works focussing on environmental and social issues, the affirmation of the Beuysian ‘artist-guide’ who produces reflections with the aim of improving what exists, encloses himself in his intimate relationship with his cats – ‘Alica’ being not only the title of the exhibition but also the name of his missing cat. His painting, characterised by an elegant expressionism with its unnatural colours that become states of mind and nuances which are at times so diluted, at other times so impossible in the material rigidity of colour, create a rarefied and secret atmosphere. This fits into the traditional pictorial reaction to reality, into ‘acrylic frames’ containing an alienating depth.
Emin’s works tell the story of her fight against cancer through the female figure in agony. Her vulnerability and pain, in all their raw essence, are shown. Her signs become the handwriting of existence or, rather, a terrible part of it. Before us is the essence of the sick body, defenceless but combative, in the image of its impression and in the pictorial gesture revealing an indomitable angry energy, an absolute reaction to the nefarious.
Dubravsky’s works, on the other hand, are a requiem, a sorrowful tribute to the disappearance of his cat Alica which, in a form of transference, becomes a sorrowful tribute to a carefree pre-war life (the artist is based in Bratislava which, although far from the Ukrainian front, is still a state bordering a country at war). The subjects, constantly translated in the pictorial act, abandon the object state to become an essential part of a character, a state of mind, an interiority. We read in the text presenting the exhibition: “Against his will, Dubravsky appears anxious in his self-portraits, while the painted cats are cheerful – a mixture which creates a kind of ambiguity in the viewer”, but the ambiguity present in the paintings is intrinsically to be found in the cat, in what it culturally represents and naturally is. In the paintings, the artist acquires the same ambiguity as his feline companions, while remaining anchored in his saturnine human nature.
But this represents only one aspect of the two exhibitions as, in both of them, the drama then turns into a positive feeling.
In Emin, through the act of painting, introspection goes hand in hand with communication. Her rough self-portraits become potential portraits of every woman who is experiencing some sort of malaise, an awareness of a condition which can be faced, the gesturality of the brushwork showing a reaction to a gloomy state of affairs. Among the many canvases depicting Emin herself, as well as potentially every woman-artist-ill person (all figures conceptually united by the theme of sacrifice), to reinforce this concept, a crucifixion can be seen – the most reassuring work in the exhibition for a culturally Western audience.
Dubravsky clearly shows the therapeutic qualities of his pets, a lifeline in the chaotic and absurd contemporary reality, made more powerful by the Russian-Ukrainian conflict in Eastern Europe. There is a hint of deep human drama in Dubravsky’s eyes, a grungy gloominess, a drama absent in the portrayal of his cats, in each work held in his arms, close to him. The feline eyes – sly, spirited or confident – are always foregrounded in the composition compared with the artist’s eyes, representing the punctum, the vital force of an intimate reasoning otherwise on the brink of the abyss.
Since its appearance in art, the self-portrait has been the substance of an artist’s intellectual property. In these two cases (artists usually living hundreds of kilometres away from each other, but now separated by 3-4 Roman streets) the self-portrait conveys feelings and revolutions in human misfortune. This is both its form and concept, and in the latter lies the light, the realisation that one person is nonetheless faced with a situation in which potential change is possible.
Tracy Emin, Lorcan O’Neill, Roma, 13.05 – 29.07.2023
Andrej Dubravsky, Richter Gallery, Rome, 30.05-28.07.2023
images: (cover 1) Andrej Dubravsky, Alica (2) Andrej Dúbravský, Alica, Installation View, ph. Credit Giorgio Benni (3) Tracey Emin, You Should Have Saved Me (4) Tracey Emin, You Should Have Saved Me (5) Tracey Emin, You Should Have Saved Me, Installation view (5) Andrej Dubravsky, Bathroom mirror at 3am, acrylic on canvas, su tela, 2023, ph. Giorgio Benni
