Maria Sulymenko “Is it time, yet?” at Georg Kargl BOX, Vienna

There is anything in just Sulymenko’s watercolour paintings, that holds an audience spellbound. In the style of laconic simplicity, she depicts mysterious and puzzling environments. These are principally interior but also exterior spaces, slim and closed, surrounded by walls that show up palpable. In this silenced atmosphere of transparent grey air, the eye does not reach the horizon—there would seem to be none.

The sceneries are scarcely inhabited. When anonymous figures look, they are generally by itself, sometimes two or 3 of them. Not people, only beings. They do not seem specifically to the viewer, they gaze away. And even with the lookup for a link, they do not truly belong crossroads of human relations are rare in this article. It is as if time has stopped. Captured in a moment, which seems to be extended. The second transforming into a point out not becoming, but rather—and just—being. Caught involving the “no longer” and “not nonetheless,” they are ready for a little something to arise, happen, probably improve.

“Etwas fehlt, was das ist, weiß man nicht,” writes Brecht in Mahagonny.1 For Maria Sulymenko, it is not so considerably about a certain reduction or disappearance, distinct agony or grief, but about the fragility of life and the inevitability of darkness. She depicts loneliness but also deliberately chosen solitude angst, and traumatic fears, as nicely as contemporary distresses and anxieties that guide to absurd circumstances and the imaginary. She quietly, pretty much naively, inquiries the troubles of just getting (and not always becoming), of simply just enduring in this earth. There is no naïve optimism, but there exist bits of hope, she statements, an anticipation of a superior time. “Each instant is a leap forwards from the brink of an invisible cliff, wherever time’s eager edges are constantly renewed. We elevate our foot from the good ground of all our everyday living lived consequently much and take that perilous phase out into the empty air. Not for the reason that we can claim any specific courage, but mainly because there is no other way.”2

at Georg Kargl BOX, Vienna
till Oct 8, 2022

1    »Something is missing, but what this is, a person does not know.« Rise and Tumble of the Metropolis of Mahagonny (German: Aufstieg und Fall der Stadt Mahagonny) is a political-satirical opera, taking place in Mahagonny, a fictional town in then North The united states, inhabited by fortune seekers, prostitutes, and shady businessmen (and women) in which absolutely just about anything goes—except getting no money. Composed by Kurt Weill to a German libretto by Bertolt Brecht, it was very first executed in 1930 in Leipzig.
2    The Booker Prize-winner Han Kang&#8217s novel is a lyrical and disquieting exploration of personalized grief, written by the prism of the shade white. Portobello Publications, London, 2017, translated from the Korean by Deborah Smith.