skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Dan Voinea’s recent painting is, at first sight, somehow disturbing. A naked, crouching male body – covered in blood, dirt and sweat – is about to be swallowed by the bucket of an excavator. It lies there, with its hands trying to protect head and vital organs, as if in the Kafkian absurd ending of The Trial. It also suggests deep grief and reminds us of the similarly disturbing endings of two movies: Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream and Andrey Wajda's Ashes and Diamond. What strikes the viewer is the honey-like light of the sky – a friendly sea of hope and wellness, whose redeeming powers seem to warmly transcend any worldly grief, if we let them do so. As such, the excavator’s bucket can be either a shelter, or a grave – depending on the godly/worldly nature of our own attitude to grief. Thus, the excavator can be one of the deceiving messengers from the “underworld”, on whom some of us (most of us) hopelessly rely in despair. On the other hand, seen from a totally different perspective, this tool-messenger may well be The One who is always there to catch us when we fall, therefore the crisis – however profound - is a potential way to salvation; it is more like a protecting womb, preparing us for a new life. As always, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
De câteva zile simpaticii Cârcotaşi au început un nou sezon la radio. Prezenţa lor e mereu tonică, electrizantă, inspirată. Cârcoteala lor are stil şi – atunci când nu e prea...licenţioasă – o anumită subtilitate, în zadar de căutat în alte părţi din zona entertainment-ului autohton. Rafinamentul este, vai, o rara avis în media românească. Astăzi au preluat câteva idei din articolul semnat de Lucian Mândruţă (aka Bâlbuţă) în Dilema veche, articol intitulat „România cu lanţul de gât” – lanţul nevăzut, care, largo sensu, ameninţă să ne strângă pe toţi cei care ne încăpăţânăm să nu ne manelizăm şi să nu ne „globalizăm” (uniformizăm), să nu ne „rinocerizăm” şi care, stricto sensu, e nelipsit de la gâtul românului majoritar şi gregar, ahtiat după manele sau house, după bâlci, zarvă şi alba-neagra. Ironia lui Bâlbuţă a fost – culmea – savurată şi, iată, advertised, de Cârcotaşii care nu pierdeau nicio ocazie de a puncta – cu împunsăturile lor – greşelile, bâlbele şi până la urmă profesionalismul incert al jurnalistului de la Antena 1. În scurta sa intervenţie live de la matinalul moderat de Cârcotaşi, autorul articolului a fost chiar întrebat cum reuşeşte să facă atâtea gafe când apare în direct la TV şi, pe de altă parte, cum poate semna articole atât de savuroase şi...poetice în presa scrisă. Răspunsul lui Mândruţă a venit scurt, ceva de genul : Fiecare are dreptul să-şi îmbunătăţească imaginea. Just şi la mai mare!
Dan Voinea’s recent painting is, at first sight, somehow disturbing. A naked, crouching male body – covered in blood, dirt and sweat – is about to be swallowed by the bucket of an excavator. It lies there, with its hands trying to protect head and vital organs, as if in the Kafkian absurd ending of The Trial. It also suggests deep grief and reminds us of the similarly disturbing endings of two movies: Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream and Andrey Wajda's Ashes and Diamond. What strikes the viewer is the honey-like light of the sky – a friendly sea of hope and wellness, whose redeeming powers seem to warmly transcend any worldly grief, if we let them do so. As such, the excavator’s bucket can be either a shelter, or a grave – depending on the godly/worldly nature of our own attitude to grief. Thus, the excavator can be one of the deceiving messengers from the “underworld”, on whom some of us (most of us) hopelessly rely in despair. On the other hand, seen from a totally different perspective, this tool-messenger may well be The One who is always there to catch us when we fall, therefore the crisis – however profound - is a potential way to salvation; it is more like a protecting womb, preparing us for a new life. As always, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. 
