Blesok no. 56, September-October, 2007
Gallery Reviews

Miroslav Masin, “Fish – Bird – Woman”

Various authors

Miroslav Masin

The fish, the bird, the woman
the finest beauties in their environments.
They permeate on the canvass and mingle
They touch and copulate
They make love and like each other
They turn motley, white, they feel each other.
They transform
From one form into another
And into another
… into the universal finest beauty.
Sometimes the women flies
The fish kisses
The bird swims
… lovely, isn’t it?
They dance hugged in the white
(sometimes I get in between).
They imbibe the love
while the white returns it
reflects it towards us
towards the Universe

Elizabeta Šeleva

When you tread through the white
(Miroslav Masin “Fish – Bird – Woman”, CIC, November 2007)

“Everything the poet touches and what renders the material for his poem must pass through him transformed. And vise versa. If the motif is fish – it must, on some curve, pass briskly through the being of the fish”. This is how the poet Eftim Kletnikov views his artistic experience. But the same view on the necessity of a subjective-personal metamorphosis, maybe even more, refers to the artistic venture of the painter who, due to his queer / slanted perception over and over again conquers the world of phenomena with the form of his work, turning it into a world of essences.

    In the actual artistic poetics of Miroslav Masin there is an undisputable and obvious procedure of stylization – of reducing the corporeal representations/forms to fundamental marks: beak, eye, rear, foot, followed by their free hybridization: an unexpected coupling to the level of intertwining and/or melting together of different bodies, animal kinds and species. Subjected to the process of painful transformation, the forms given as such in nature, the colors, the bounds – in a stylized way become mutually congruent, that is, torn out of the non-being into a being as new, this time hybrid creatures, in their positive, affirmative, proven and once and for all conquered existence on the painting canvas.

    “The animal is an incarnated presence” – states Arthur Schopenhauer – the animal is bound to the visible and the present, and unlike the man, it is “content with the bare existence”.

    All these, only conditionally considered, artistic “animals” in the latest artworks of Miroslav Masin seem to testify the act of bare joy which proceeds from the penetratingly applied paint on the canvas, from the bare (uncensored) pressure of the hand on the paint tube or simply from the “digital’ approach – i.e. the direct painting, with a bare finger (instead of the mediator – the brush).

    From the initial, white zero on the canvass all the way to the easily written white signature – we feel the stylographic effect of the eloquent, plastic Whiteness, the artistically controlled ecstasy, the undoubtedly tactile (ejaculate) dispersion of the whiteness, the longing for simplicity, so difficult to reach.

    The white signature has a stylographic effect, too – and a rich associative space, especially for the chosen ones, for those who not only recognize but also gradate the value of the irreducibility of the white.

    The white, but also the body / the white as a body, the body as white. Or rather, a paradoxical (and hybrid, as is the case with Masin) all-existence that in its radical, but not less subtle and seductive (multi-corporeal) forms, horrifyingly approaches the (superior) non-existence!

Jovica Ivanovski

A Bird that Breathes with Gills

How did you paint the bird? – they asked the painter.
I flew with it. I was a blue bird and an eagle over the Carpathian,
a professional gull and I fished in the Mediterranean
I was a swan in the Ohrid Lake and I had nothing
tartish behind the grace of a princess.

Look! The dove from the canvas eats from my hand.
It feels that the frame is not a cage and that on it
it will fly to the end of the world, and beyond.

How did you paint the fish? – they asked the painter.
I swam with it and as a fisherman I courted it.
We touched the bottom of the ocean and we set swimming
Towards the surface, towards the warm of light hanging
                             from the hook.

It posed for me in a pan. I know its smell, its taste.
I lick my fingers after each bite form the palette
but I mind not to gulp down a bone from the brush.

How did you paint the woman? – they asked the painter.
I didn’t paint it. I only laid her down on the easel
and made love to her – once, twice, three times…
But she seems to like more. Look how she sways
her ass – I’ll have it one more time from behind.

Nooooo! Don’t touch the canvas! It’s still wet.
Will it ever dry?

But what linked the bird, the fish and the woman? –
                          they kept asking.
The penis, the center of the Universe – said the painter
and dipped the brush in the lake in order
to paint the tits on the sky.

Dejan Dukovski

When I saw these paintings I thought of a WOMAN. I loved her. From the longest hair on her head to the little toe on her foot. And I didn’t know how. She said, why are you kicking the love away from me. I didn’t understand her. I lost her. She slipped from my hands like a FISH and flew free like a BIRD. Now I’m looking everywhere for a parti-colored bird. I think Masin had seen her. I must drink to her. I know that it won’t be only one glass. For all the parti-colored birds around, Miro!

10.10.2007, Krug

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