THIS IS NOT AN ARTSPACE | Intervention: Lea Rasovszky

THIS IS NOT AN ARTSPACE
INTERVENTION: LEA RASOVSZKY

Opening: THU, 13.10.2022, 18:00–21:00
Visiting schedule: 14.10–12.11.2022, THU-SAT, 16:00–19:00

Erou Ion Călin 19, Bucharest

The series of artistic interventions “Mimicking/Mining Normality,” dedicated to the Institute of the Present’s working space in the frame of THIS IS NOT AN ARTSPACE, continues with the work of artist Lea Rasovszky, which is on show between 14 October–12 November 2022.

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5+5 / interview with Lea Rasovszky by Otto Felt / intro Intervention #2

OTTO FELT: I’ll start with a question I ask everyone. How would you describe the artistic context you are part of in Bucharest? What kind of challenges do you encounter and which habits seem to characterise its mentality? What would you change?

LEA RASOVSZKY: I’ve always seen it as an interesting scene, as very surprising and alive, despite its major challenges and (seemingly) eternal precarious state. There is always something exciting that comes up and that gives me hope that it will all work out eventually. That said, the everyday reality is quite discouraging. I find myself in the middle of an island of pragmatic attitudes, if not pure negativity—a situation I have never found myself in before. As a young artist in my early days, it seemed to me that everything was possible and I even felt somewhat amused that it was all so dormant and weak. It seemed like a playground to be “vandalised” and revitalised. Today, belonging to a different generation, the “over 35s,” I am starting to feel very disappointed with the way things are done on the official level, the impossibility of managing the big institutions in charge of culture, from ministries to universities, the lack of interest and the deep corruption of those in leading positions. I feel the need for some consistency, for normality, for a minimum of comfort in order to carry out my vocation (in lack of a better term), and for a constructive contribution to society, to the world.

As visual artists, we still don’t get any official recognition. We don’t get any help from the state and there are no lasting and valid private alternatives that don’t instantly lead to something wildly and unbearably capitalistic.

I would change everything: we need an absolute structural reboot, real contests for all the major positions, more varied funding sources to offer opportunities to a broad range of fields and types of applicants, new laws that allow spaces that are not used (for various reasons) to become state property and then made accessible to independent entities that deal with culture and its integration into society: artists, artist collectives, NGOs, artist-run spaces… The list goes on.

O.F.: What motivates you to do what you are working on at the moment? What do you reflect on most often?

L.R.: I am motivated by the work itself. I love my universe; I believe in it and I couldn’t conceive of a reality where I would do anything else. I’m glad I have the ability to detach from external issues and work on my own. Multiple parallel stories unfold in my mind. I construct them mentally, and then some of them simply ask to be materialised. I listen to my instinct and act without hesitation.

These days I’m thinking about how beautifully the concept of femininity is evolving, and how healthy it is that it is breaking free from its corsets and is finally becoming more authentic, multifaceted, powerful and diverse.

O.F.: I know that you grew up in the Berceni neighbourhood and have remained attached to this universe of opposites, rebellion and marginality that always takes you out of your comfort zone. Your works succeed in this. There is a certain brutality to their aesthetic, but they also speak of fragility, boundaries, limits, and tacitly accepted inconsistencies.

L.R.: Yes, my biggest challenge has always been to understand and integrate the many contradictions that form our human experience. I find the kaleidoscopic nature of society fascinating and I probably always will. The way life unfolds before our eyes, towards anywhere and crossing paths with anyone, always amazes me and shows me how little I know and how great that is. I have so much to explore, and I aim to do so in a respectful way and with total compassion and an open heart to the human experiences that unite us, shock us, and make us this particular species and no other.

O.F.: You are interested in how art can be a contribution to education and you even take on the role of artist-pedagogue in various contexts. What is the catalyst for this endeavour, and how does this inform your work as an artist?

L.R.: It provides perspective, and it connects me to the primary, ancestral reasons why creative manifestations speak so well of us. I work with both children and adults. It’s interesting how children are always so interested. They experiment through play, and their enthusiasm is as great as life itself. But this is different with adults. The fear of making a mistake arises as well as the shyness in front of something as natural as a line drawn freehand on a blank paper. To me, it is clear that this is what the current education makes of those free and enthusiastic children. It cuts away an essential part of that perception and turns it into frustration.

When I work with adults, I realise all over again why it is so important and beautiful (this word rarely makes sense, but it does here) to find oneself in one’s own creativity, without aesthetic constraints, without tendencies, without artificial boundaries.

O.F.: Tell me about the “People I’ve Been Before” work that you want to incorporate into your intervention at The Institute of the Present. What is the concept behind this recent series, how do you plan to develop it at THIS IS NOT A SPACE, and what will be your role here? Who is the character in the diorama?

L.R.: I peek into people’s houses when I walk home in the evening. I make the most out of the light of the chandeliers, the cool neon lights, the lamps, the tv sets… I capture whatever I can. I absorb the details avidly, and my mind tries to map everything in that fleeting second (it’s actually many seconds, but it feels like just one) to take in the hints, trying my best to make the gesture seem natural and not give a semi-desperate stare, which is how it actually feels inside. I wonder what it is like in there, what it smells like, where the secrets lie, and what the person sleeping is dreaming about. The air in other people’s homes is different, containing particles of unrecognisable DNA, contorted like someone’s meditation posture or a spider accidentally stepped on by a shoe.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to knock on a door, opening it and with a short scream, capturing an irreversible, brutal scene, and shocking but also recognising each other. Then that door, and that world, would close without us saying a word to each other, but knowing that we could be the other in another life or even in this one.

This is what I wrote in my diary about this project. I know who the character in the box is but I would rather not tell you. Like all of us, he leaves clues about himself. Our perception of him decides how we shape him and whether to accept him as he is or not, whether to “let go” and enter his world or on the contrary, close the door and run away.

There will probably be excerpts from the diary on the walls as well as other items: photographs, objects, framed works, magic junk from the fairs I attend, drawings…
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LEA RASOVSZKY lives and works in Bucharest. She is interested in marginal cultural subjects, from areas such as kitsch, manele, non-conforming bodies and individuals, and “psychological peripheries” that are not purely social. Her artworks are, most often, portraits in motion of people, situations, and emotions filtered through an ironic and rough drawing style paired with installations that highlight the stereotypes and values of the society towards which she has a critical view.

OTTO FELT is a German-born writer based in Rockport, Massachusetts. Felt studied and teaches comparative literature and art history, and aspires to devote himself entirely to writing and publishing his novels. He is a collector of artist books, with a particular interest in Eastern European and South American art.

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In the frame of the THIS IS NOT AN ARTSPACE initiative, the Institute of the Present puts forward a series of interventions taking place in its own working studio in Bucharest, addressing the present and triggered by the way in which the independent artistic platforms and artists choose to respond to the energies of the context in which they operate. THIS IS NOT AN ARTSPACE is above all conceived as a place for dialogue, sharing of individual and collective experiences that are hosted in the septic terrain of the white cube, but in a working studio of 50 sqm. THIS IS NOT AN ARTSPACE is conceived by Alina Șerban and Ștefania Ferchedău in the frame of the artist and theory resource platform the Institute of the Present.

Cultural project co-funded by the Administration of the National Cultural Fund. Partner: Sandwich.
Visual identity: Daniel & Andrew Design Studio (Andrei Turenici)

The project does not necessarily represent the standpoint of the Administration of the National Cultural Fund. AFCN cannot be held liable for the content of the project or the manner in which the outcomes of the project may be used. These shall devolve entirely on the beneficiary of the financing.

Contact: ip@institutulprezentului.ro