Anastasia Samoylova: m o z a r t
Accuracy is not as quick as wit. Profound safari accumulates the glorious mess of Anastasia Samoylova. She is in depth and sight; the works are consummate. Supreme garbage, splendid topography, succinct reactions stimulate fabricated diversities. Planes of petulant shapes and iconography. The familiarity of something natural, but not quite. Quick and round, the formulation of confusion is superb and overwhelmed. Oculus of Samoylova inoculated in brightness and saturation. Besmirched visions of contemporary worlds; our Earth is impudently humiliated by interpretative human sublime. Captured, caught, correlated, catalogued, copied. Outright, inside, exterior, luster, divaricate. All life, as all constructions, is temporary. Tempered and tampered Samoylova’s work reflects this order of things. It is not without its absurdities as much as it’s not without impeccable alternative variety.
Absorptive repurposed space is redesigned. “Romantic natures always within me.” Samoylova is of certain rituals and acts that she feels born into. Meditative process and records take on a life of their own. Selective incisors cut meticulous puzzles forming dimensional labyrinths. The works are of carving reactive hands. Those hands are in response to her environment. Questions fill, crisp and refreshed. Liveliness of composition is discharged in hues and shades. Complicated simplicity of disarray. Desire beyond sex or material is intertwined into the escape of such luxury and aesthetic. To suggest such afflatus swoons inside the perceptions of endowed desires. To be transcended is very real.
Air is not predetermined by interpretation—it is totally open. Samoylova insists that she doesn’t have to be taken seriously. I’ll call her bluff on that. The focus of craft and eagerness to explore dictates an acknowledgment of passion and drive. The work is worthy; the ideas interpretive. If there is anything to not be serious about it’s the world outside such wonderfully poignant satire and art. The realization of course being that without one the other falls apart. Poised passion in perceptual grasp make way through awakened senses. The community established by conversations such as Samoylova’s is current and significant. They are not outright in policy or government, but are worthy of instigating mutiny. In such sublimity there is a conclusion, finally there is something that you cannot possess.
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