The works in this latest collection are anchored by an impressive group of paintings depicting the mighty baobab tree, native to Africa. Sometimes
called the upside-down tree because its branches resemble a complex system of roots, this enigmatic giant is a quintessential vehicle for Igor Medvedev’s continued exploration of the uncanny, the mysterious, the almost déjà vu-like quality produced by the individual’s confrontation with a vast, chaotic and seemingly-unknowable natural world. In its otherworldliness, the baobab, in particular, seems to speak to man’s profound intellectual alienation from his organic surroundings. That these figures are still recognizable renders them all the more intriguing, as they seem to achieve an eerie, formidable power by being simultaneously endowed with qualities of evasiveness and accessibility. We are quick to grasp the signifier—although a little unusual, these are clearly some sort of woody perennial—but are left quite at liberty as to its potential signification. By discarding the rigorous preoccupations of mimetic representation, Medvedev’s works can rightly be looked upon as translations—as opposed to imitations—of nature, with his oeuvre conveying an idiosyncratic, stimulating and distinct pictorial language.
Medvedev often paints in cycles or series of artwork these days. The present group is a continuation of his first foray into African subjects, which began two years ago. Upon completion of a group of paintings, the artist takes time out to ponder the results of his labor, and to contemplate his next step. In this case, it was not the poetic grandeur of Table Mountain, nor the fertile, vinous hills of the Western Cape, but the singular baobab that inspired the artist’s imagination.
"The best paintings, for me, are those that produce a sense of tension in the viewer."
~Igor Medvedev
The aesthetic demands of working on a piece—in the most literal sense—are like putting together a puzzle; an effort that requires moment-to-moment decision-making, revision, reconsideration, and above all, action. The intellectual exercise is rendered physical, and concerns itself more with form, color, composition and balance; then translating these considerations into physical movements of the artist’s tools across the receptive surface. The brush—in motion—achieves a quality approaching the beating
of one’s heart or the involuntary, unconscious blinking of the eye, which is not to say that producing these works is easy in any conventional sense. Their polished, pristine and multilayered effects betray a sensitive and careful craftsmanship; a precision achieved only through intense effort. When one examines this body of work, there can be little doubt that we are confronted with a compendium of fully-realized aesthetic objects.
Among the works not concerned with trees, echoes of California Abstraction—as exemplified particularly by artists like Wayne Thiebaud and the later, non-figural works of Richard Diebenkorn—abound in subtle, pleasing homage, with a mere suggestion here, a hint of an allusion there. These works are less foreboding, sometimes even whimsical, and occasionally quite a bit more literal. Different to be sure, but it’s easy to contend that they are no less dynamic than the startling visions of trees, by which they’ve been preceded.
As Medvedev says, “The best paintings, for me, are those that produce a sense of tension in the viewer. This can be positive, negative or any of the neighborhoods in between. A good painting, though, induces a kind of agreeable unease. At its best this tension—it’s almost like a tugging on something inside you—suggests that maybe there is some meaning in the world after all. The question of what exactly that meaning is interests me far, far less than the sort of ability, the capacity itself, for us to be able to experience these moments of intimation.”