Antoine Clavé

With this painting, Artem Andreichuk doesn't simply invite us to contemplate the mountainous Carpathian landscape, he goes one step further by plunging us directly into the creative process.
Andreichuk uses three patterns (the mountains, the banana tree and the circles) as a pretext to highlight his brush and dissect his own technique.
The Carpathian invade the canvas with multiple flat areas of colour. From white with a blue-grey sheen to charcoal black, Andreichuk creates a camaïeu that testifies to his sense of colour. He alternates shades of blue, violet and pink, reminiscent of Impressionist experiments in the wake of Goethe's chromatic theories.
Andreichuk reconciles the modern duel between the colourist Venetian painters and the Florentine draftsmen by choosing to marry his solid colours with his black lines, thus bringing out the relief of the Carpathian. Volumes emerge under his lines, the fruit of the artist's precision and spontaneity, testifying to both a mastery and a certain release of the creative gesture.
Banana trees, a recurring motif in Andreichuk's work, also serve to illustrate the creative process. It is possible to distinguish the three stages that traditionally punctuate the creation of a work: the study drawing (top center), the sketch on canvas (center) and then the colouring (left). Andreichuk exposes us to the creative evolution, as if revealing the secrets of his studio with this iconography so particular to the history of art (thanks Andy Warhol!). Indeed, the gradation of colours in the banana trees resonates with the circles scattered across the canvas. However, these perfect circles also contrast with the rest of the work, as they look like pochoirs or stamps. Andreichuk introduces new, more contemporary ideas this time with the almost mechanical multiplication of these circles, breaking with the single lines of his brush. Between serial stamping, drawing and the use of acrylic, Andreichuk imposes a history of creation in all its forms and evolutions.

Liudmila Davydenko works around the notion of synergy, and this work is a concrete incarnation of this abstract idea.
She instills movement and vitality, disguising the static pictorial whole as a network, a machine in perpetual action. The energy given to the canvas is reminiscent of Cy Twombly's, and its dark mood echoes Anselm Kiefer's palette. Davydenko finds herself in an in-between position, reminiscent of Jackson Pollock's paintings.
Between verticality and rounded forms, Inversion 2 appears like a negative of Kiefer's Die orden der nacht. This colour reversal continues in the opposition between the subjects. While Kiefer takes a macabre stance in his work, Davydenko uses her talent to create a work filled with life.
The canvas is self-sufficient, acting as a sort of ecosystem. Like roots, the lines of paint spread and proliferate, seeming to sprout from a dark mass and rise to taste the light at the top of the canvas. Liudmila Davydenko creates a painting of saturated contrasts, an oil on black and white canvas that is almost photosensitive. These two shades come together in a common value, gray, which spreads across the entire surface and binds the two extremes that make up this system, so that it can thrive harmoniously and autonomously.
From life underground to the Internet and the speed of neural transmission, we see the almost mystical interweaving of the cogs governing the most complex structures.
The work functions at once as an extended constellation network, a timeless horizon or a microscopic sample of connecting systems: synergy on every scale.