Exhibition notes

I take the blame.

When I finally got the chance to visit her studio, what immediately struck me were the traces of her process from idea to finished work: small models, drawings, sketches, written notes, materials, and novel constructions that I couldn't quite contextualize. It felt like the data in between point A and point B. When I told Chiara what I wanted to bring to the exhibition, she looked at me skeptically. It was like speaking with someone who has a language all their own, and it warmed me inside. Whatever she is saying, I want to hear her voice. There’s an edge to it that reflects everything she has been through.

She began working in my apartment on August 28th. I left for work early in the morning and returned after she had left in the evening. The room slowly transformed, day by day, organically. I kept thinking about how brave she was—brave enough to expose the unfiltered pages of her "diary," to let go of her own ambitions. I don't know if I would dare. I felt guilty, rubbing my hands as I surveyed the growing body of work. Days passed, weeks. Every evening, a new creation had emerged. Once, she remarked how nice it was to get to know each other this way—a shortcut to a deeper relationship. I had been given the privilege of understanding the content behind each form. The common thread in Chiara’s objects does not stem from an ambition to create finished works; rather, it is an exposure of materialized thoughts, shot from the hip—quick dialogues from a square in Milan, all in process. Like a month’s worth of diary entries, in which someone is trying to reach a conclusion, torn out and presented to the world.

Absalon presented me with an image that stunned me at first glance: Edderkop (inkjet print). The exhibition was originally planned for early summer, but certain circumstances postponed the opening. This picture was to be shown in a gallery in Copenhagen while Chiara was busy with other exhibitions. Understandably, Absalon wanted to exhibit a new image and sent me a series of about twenty new ones to choose from, but I didn’t want to compromise the dynamic I had envisioned. The overall vision was based on an interaction, which in retrospect, I think of as an interplay between the unspoken and a more direct language. This became clearer as Chiara's installation took shape and the two works resonated dynamically. 

At first glance, I was struck by the interplay between his and her work, in terms of color, medium, and material. But what does Absalon’s visual world consist of? Upon closer inspection, the image is made up of elements that I cannot recognize or fully comprehend, much like Chiara’s objects—torn between the urban and the natural. It conveys a kind of intimacy that becomes uncomfortable, unbalanced, and even dangerous. That duality is echoed in Chiara’s materials. Absalon’s image feels as if someone is saying something direct and to the point (in this particular picture), as though it wants to communicate something, whereas Chiara’s work remains more unspoken. Starting point: classical portrait. Time travel. It is difficult to categorize or lock this piece into any established language or style. The technical composition places it at the forefront of time. I wonder if Absalon has a more formalistic approach to his work. I don't believe his intention is to explicitly say things, but rather, that he embodies a complexity of thoughts which automatically produce psychological tension.

—Jonas Roos

Chiara Bugatti (b. 1991, Italy) is a visual artist based in Stockholm.
Absalon Kirkeby (b. 1983, Denmark) is a visual artist based in Copenhagen.

‍