WAVE

Art historian

Theodor de Canziani

on Wave

Taking a first, or merely superficial, look at these visual luxuries spread out before us is a stimulus which gives us neither information nor knowledge, but merely an insight into material existence, without further clues. All too often, our eyes try to categorise and place the images seen in the spaces and within the fences of our own experiences. These instantly recognised motifs are then forever left in the warehouses of our memories until their inevitable disappearance.

Rare moments, on the other hand, turn into eternity. Because they are not just seen with the eye, but seen through time, through the process of contemplative play of the cycles of searching and finding the answers in the eternal metamorphosis.

And so it is with Stephen Shanley's paintings. We observe and explore. We question and do not find. We conclude, but we know nothing. We sort, and the sets get lost. Everything is clear to us, yet the answers are not in sight.

We are told that figurative painting is clear in both theme and motifs, as well as experiential recognition and evaluation. We are told that abstraction without the presence of figurative motifs is incomprehensible, that we intuitively recognise as valuable by the quality of the form and multiple possible arbitrary conclusions.

Before us stand the paintings of Stephen Shanley. They speak figuratively and firmly - to our eyes’ almost primitive pleasures. But our brain is restless. It searches, delving into the databases of similar motifs encountered in the past. The brain is flustered as it flips through hundreds of dusty archives. We get restless seeing only pictures and not recognising the worlds, which send layered messages, almost screaming with the desire to tell us who they are, what they are, and where they are from.

We tell ourselves that these are motifs of science fiction and themes of surrealism. So we stop and see this is most certainly not the case – it would be far too obvious and shallow. We pause, turn around, and look at them again in disbelief, wanting to see something more. Where are we, and where have we seen these paintings?

Arguing with ourselves, frantically searching, wanting to calm the mind, we realise – and we may be wrong once again - that these paintings speak about us. There are no other worlds, no distant galaxies. There are no aliens or fusions of our familiar and sci-fi realities.

That's why these images turn into words that want to grasp and decipher the core and the reason. But words without awareness just ring empty to us. We tune into our senses, sounds, and the rhythm of our heartbeat.

These are no longer just paintings or depictions of what we know from our own or other people's experiences. They become torrents of emotions, accelerated blood flow, open hearts, and primordial instinct. It is in that instant that we realise that they are not just an image but a carefully constructed story. We then recognise that we are not at the end of a newly seen motif, but at the beginning of the storytelling and the cognition of being.

That's why we offer you Stephen Shanley's exhibition - for reading and self-reflection in the discovery of your own sensory universe. There is no flattery, no lectures, or revelations - just a signpost for your own discoveries.