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i n s t a l l a t i o n s s c u l p t u r e s  p a i n t i n g   C V   c o n t a c t 

Angel of chaos

250x200x150, polymer, metal, black water, 2006


The Angel of Chaos My angel continuously steps through and tears spaces in a furious rush. He is the spirit of creativity and self-realisation, the harbinger of change, striving towards other realities, to the abstract, to chaos.

Sometimes, being near him, I discern the minutest curves of his nonexistent joints and inconceivably-penetrating ray of aspiration. I manage to make a few steps in the same rhythm and to feel the fluctuating pulsation of space. Having definitively forgotten the way back, some time I shall be able to go much further… I consider art a totally strange path, having the property of abruptly turning to absolutely unexpected zones. Finding myself there, I feel the gust of the deafening metaphysical wind, in astonishment I look around. Absurd chaotic heaps are, in each moment, ready to spit out a piece of abstraction, having initiated splitting in two – to move further or to freeze, timelessly screwing into what is happening. Continuing movement deep down, great is the probability of finding oneself outside and even at the very beginning, although, there is some elusively-subtle illusoriness of the stages, of the general direction and it is namely this illusion that it is necessary to destroy once and for all, in order to find oneself, finally, in the depressurized vacuum of emptiness. Then, through the smell of ozone and over saturation of sensation, my eardrums catch the hope of a meeting with the angel of chaos.



Everything happens almost instantaneously and unexpectedly, although so excruciatingly long-awaited. Having fleetingly glanced for the thousandth time at the surface of my picture, accidentally I come across insignificant details, to break from the contemplation of which it is as impossible as to continue to scrutinise them, the eye becomes muddled, and concentration drags itself into biomorphic viscous density. After some time I find myself firmly entangled in the whole rippling surface, as if in an itchy blanket. The front wall, that which is in front of one's eyes, softening, begins to stretch forward, grasping some organ – stomach or liver, and maybe, all at once, all that is contained within my covering. It seems that precisely at this moment the outline of an angel appears out of nonexistent space. But then, it isn't completely clear how they become distinguishable – from the inside, from the side or some other way. The crash of breaking partitions and cut-open spaces overwhelm all subsequent observations – destructive processes already enlivened to the maximum… The angel of chaos, appearing from nowhere, wildly tears the subtlest entanglements of the cobweb surfaces of synthetic thinking. It is only he who is capable of such beneficial interference in the uninterrupted process of methodically-scrupulous construction by consciousness of endless cell-like partitions.



For some prolonged time after the metaphysical initiation, from out of the newly created picture, abstract winds whistle, behind its surface we can distinguish the murmur of another world. However, the destructive wound heals quickly, part of chaos having burst through it is structured, transforming into a tool fully suitable for being used today. It is quite a happy period, although, with the angels' steps going further and further away, this precious toolset starts to remind one of useless children's cubes with letters, from which only some words can be made. A distressing period of waiting for the next meeting begins…











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