In my hunting for wholeness, I always lose track of time, forgetting that real wholeness is possible only in the past, and the external form is deceptive; moreover, it is dead. The most expressive manifestations of the external are nothing more than a phantom. The real always ripens at a distance from the obvious or that which is obviously logical. What seems to be unconditional cannot be proved logically because irrational mytical confidence in the faultlessness of common sense is in fact completely unfounded. Logic is constantly forced to overcome itself. Sometimes it seems that its realness in general comes from nothing, from emptiness.
My own method of analyzing a pictured object seems to me rather logical, or, more likely, one that reflects my own efforts of searching for objective laws that reveal all the erroneousness in what is considered to be a rule. I start to develop an image from the most banal form or gesture, then I destroy that part where justification and logicality make it too weak; then I wander for awhile inside, under fragments and finally, being exhausted, I reconstruct a form, re-build it again.
Sometimes what I picture can seem to be something that has no single reason to exist at all. Most often my attention is drawn to accidents. In its own turn, an accident recognizes its own accidental nature as a true reason. The unimportant external thing, deprived of any features of justification, becomes important.
I strive to remove everything that is justified by logic since the objective external usually does not explain anything, but on the contrary, it only disguises the most interesting.
A surface that is seen by an eye is too slippery. An eye just slides on a surface, looking for at least some chink, in order to dive into the depth. To that place, where there is everything, which is ‘baking’ within a rule. I am enchanted by the possibility of opening, at least a little bit, an outward appearance, not for the sake of finding out the reason for its existence, but in order to “release the steam”, so to be able, in the process of observing the chosen object, to reach its very end. Because that real engine inside the object should not be closed hermetically. Otherwise, it will either stop or explode. On the other hand, from the very beginning, my studying of an object foresees destruction, explosion and, ultimately, some kind of liberation.
However, the lightness of the freed, unlocked object also becomes unbearable in its own turn. It also does not have either the content or simple gravity needed to at least hold together its own identity and not disappear completely. A mystery immediately evaporates like steam. It does not have anything to be held in. My wonderful object is no longer valuable.
In such moments, envy for reality just burns me from within, because the real is deprived of that painful disruptiveness that bleeds on a canvas. I am in despair because I can’t grab the internal and external at the same time. Something necessarily slips away and that, which remains, immediately turns into a stone in a shell of logic.
One thing is left: to abandon decisively the efforts to express something subconscious and simply to indulge in joy, which is, according to Jean Baudrillard, the bleeding of value. To dismember the code and get rid of repressive manifestations of logic. Just to remove the demarcation that divides the internal-mysterious and the external-obvious. Just to witness “the explosion of content without any back thought.” (Vlada Ralko, 2008)
