EN
LANDSCAPE FORMATIONS
Participants:
Mandy Espezel (Canada)
Raminta Dirsytė-Urbonienė (Lithuania)
Simona Rukuižaitė (Lithuania)
Martín Bruce (Chile, Portugal)
Vladyslav Riaboshtan (Ukraine)
Mandy Espezel (Canada)
Raminta Dirsytė-Urbonienė (Lithuania)
Simona Rukuižaitė (Lithuania)
Martín Bruce (Chile, Portugal)
Vladyslav Riaboshtan (Ukraine)
Art critic and artist of the residnecy: Agnė Kulbytė (Lithuania)
Curator: Kristina Mažeikaitė: (Lithuania)
Curator: Kristina Mažeikaitė: (Lithuania)
The term "formation" (Latin: formatio) signifies the act of shaping or creating. Its primary connotation pertains to the geological process through which rocks are structured under specific tectonic and climatic conditions over prolonged intervals of time. Viewing the landscape through the lens of formation allows one to explore the plein-air motif as a foundational concept while transcending its superficial representation. In essence, it entails commencing with the earth's structural constructs when depicting a landscape and, perhaps, unveiling those constructs to the viewer.
At the same time, it allows us to rethink the notion of time – to bring together and accumulate the experiences and influences of the ages into a single image. The idea that painting, unlike any other medium, allows you to see different moments in time in the same painting has been expressed by the contemporary German artist K. Grosse. She emphasized that painting reverses the understanding of the present, the future, and the past because one is confronted with a multi-layered image – a representation of the accumulation of time. The writer T. Wilder also uses the landscape as a representation of time: "Only on the surface does time appear to be like a river. Time is rather like a boundless landscape, through which the gaze of the observer moves." Giving visual form to the layers of the earth therefore necessarily involves giving form to time.
On the other hand, the concept of formation can be interpreted very broadly: from ecological challenges that lead to changes in regional climatic conditions, reshaping natural and human routines, behaviours, and landscapes, to geopolitical catastrophes that lead to mass migrations and environmental destruction; from absolute transformations (like the water from the destroyed Kachovka dam drowning houses) to the individual challenges of the contemporary world, such as the search for identity, the feeling of insecurity, and the effort to give a (meaningful) shape to one's existence and to confirm one's existence.
The coastal environment offers an ideal backdrop for exploring themes revolving around landscape formation. On one hand, the region captivates us with its scenic beauty, providing opportunities to observe migrating birds or gaze upon the Curonian Spit across the bay. Beneath these picturesque vistas lies a more fragile reality, marked by the ecological vulnerability of the local population. This vulnerability manifests in the flooding of the Nemunas deltas over inhabited areas, the evolving landscape due to the influx of tourists or temporary residents, and the long-term transformation of nature itself, accompanied by the region's general decline—including dwindling populations and the gradual disappearance of once-sandy settlements in the Curonian Lagoon. Collectively, these elements shape a new landscape.
When working in a residency surrounded by nature, one inevitably begins with the landscape – a classical genre that assumes diverse meanings across different historical periods. Artists will be invited to scrutinize the role and significance of landscape as a genre in the contemporary art scene, along with its potential for evolution. Contemporary works that reflect on the genre of landscape convey meanings quite different from those found in classical landscapes: there is no expressed mood of romanticism, no idealization. "For us, everything is empty" – this thought by Gerhard Richter accurately represents the contemporary artist's relationship with the landscape. Often consciously rejecting the idealization of landscape, the contemporary landscape can convey the tensions experienced, the catastrophic feelings, and the vulnerability of everyone. On the other hand, as Lithuanian artist Agnė Kulbytė has observed, "the genre of landscape cannot become boring"; it is seemingly endless, offering different perspectives of access and approach. From the shaping of the earth's layers (e.g., the American artist Mark Bradford compares the act of painting to digging, where during the process of creation, the "digging" of the painting's layers is linked to the topographic layers) to recording the changes in nature (e.g., the British artist Christopher Le Brun). The theme of landscape formation allows us to look at and rethink how creation begins, what a landscape is, and what form can be given to a landscape on canvas.
Last but not least, the personal relationship that the artists may create with the location of Kintai and the Pomeranian coast during the residency is equally interesting. The landscapes of the Pomeranian region are also captured in the works of Lithuanian classics. Rimvydas Jankauskas-Kampas' surviving pastel drawing "Ventė Cape" („Ventės Ragas“, 1990) and the large-format painting "Quiet Evenings in Ventė Cape" („Ramūs vakarai Ventės Rage“, 1993, canvas, oil, 190 x 300) are two examples. The location of the coastal region contains a special atmosphere that could be brought back to the forefront of the artists through the residency format.
From a conversation with Rimvydas Jankauskas-Kampas:
- Have you been to the Cape this summer?
- I was there in the spring. I slept on the dry grass, recharged my energy, and spent the night with the fishermen. I should go again... Or maybe not. It's all gone...
You went there out of nostalgia, didn't you?
- Strong nostalgia. Because that's where it all begins. It's the end of the world. The summers I spent at Ventė Cape gave me a real rush of blood. Maybe in that energy, in that blood, it appeared.
- Have you been to the Cape this summer?
- I was there in the spring. I slept on the dry grass, recharged my energy, and spent the night with the fishermen. I should go again... Or maybe not. It's all gone...
You went there out of nostalgia, didn't you?
- Strong nostalgia. Because that's where it all begins. It's the end of the world. The summers I spent at Ventė Cape gave me a real rush of blood. Maybe in that energy, in that blood, it appeared.
("Black Sun: a conversation with R. Jankauskas-Kampas, interviewed by K. Marčiulynas." In: Europa, 1994, January 6-13, p. 5)
The project is financed by Lithuanian Council for Culture