Back to the FOMO-inducing exhibitions, Mirella Jaworska is currently having a debut solo show at Galerie Sebastian Bertrand in Geneva. What could easily be a simple presentation of consonant canvases becomes, through her raw yet delicate technique and generally tense yet ambiguous ambiance, an experience of sorts.
It’s no secret I’ve been developing a soft spot for Polish painters and their often moody, melancholic, sepia-tinted sensibility. So, coming across Jaworska’s work a while back was an instant art crush. The tenebrist-like setting, the distorted figures, and unorthodox overlaps of realities won me over in an instant, and the frescoesque, worn-out surfaces sealed the deal. So this exhibition felt like the perfect moment to reach out and talk a bit about what/why/how she paints
SB: What sort of atmosphere or vibe do you look to build in your work, and what attracts you to that?
MJ: I think a key word could be emotional intensity. And, in general, some kind of extreme. I often find myself thinking that things at their extremes become the opposite. For example, love that becomes hate. When I saw Oshima’s Ai no Korida, I absolutely had to paint it. The glimpse of hope and happiness in the despair. The dagger of a sudden nostalgia during the happiest moments among your friends. I think there’s this strange balance everywhere in the world. For me, this is a real mystery and beauty.
SB: It seems that the surfaces are as important as the depicted subject of the work. How do you create them the way you want, and what's your goal when you build them?
MJ: I love the game of imitation. I used to work as a decorator back then in Italy and fell in love with trompe-l’oeil, making fake marble, and these meaningless still natures, windows with fake views… and then I read Baudrillard’s writings on seduction, and there was a chapter about trompe-l’oeil. It deeply touched me. For me, a good painting needs both - the seduction of the image represented and the seduction of the painting medium - the brushstrokes, the rhythm, the paint. I want to have realism and abstraction at the same time. Another paradox.
SB: Do you use reference images, and where do they come from?
MJ: I have a very intuitive way of finding my references. Usually there are photographs or objects that feel like they have this emotive potential to explore. I think they just remind me of some kind of past. A photograph is just a moment that becomes past the time it’s scattered. A tube of paint I’ve left open overnight, although I promised myself I would keep them in a neater way. I see it, and what I think of is this trait of my personality… There’s so much you could say about the person from these hints. They make the history of our lives.
SB: What's the idea behind corrupting or distorting the anatomy of characters or the collage-like layering of imagery?
MJ: I don’t like perfect things. I like to use an ID photo and copy it in the wrong way. You can flip the image of my painting in the photo editor and see how wrong the proportions of the face are, although the manner is realistic. I think it’s where the fun is. I sometimes have the urge to be perfect when painting, but I accept my very human mistakes. I actually don’t want them ever to be perfect. They just find their form for a state I’m trying to express. But a flower can have that form too, and a tree as well.
SB: In what way do you think that growing up in Poland might've influenced your work?
MJ: It is without doubt something essential. The times and place I grew up in… I can’t describe it. I’ve managed to keep a child’s (almost animal) intuition that was never replaced by intellect or something like that. Art was the only way to express my emotions for me. Art saved me and saves me to this day. I believe this is my mission of some kind. I feel art truly connects people on a deep level. I love it. I’m so grateful I can be doing this interview, for example.
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