The sculptor as artist is always trying to move beyond the static. The static character (although not in the truest sense of the word) is already overcome by the sculpture’s ability to turn on its axis (even if the axis is horizontal). And this turning is initially assumed and is an important component of what is taking shape. But what is taking shape? An image? A metaphor? The result is something titled, “The Circle of Cronos.” This is one of Kyiv artist Yevhen Derevianko’s most recent creations.
A perceptive devotee of Yevhen Derevianko’s talent ought to have long sensed that something was cooking; his current works are outwardly completely different from any of his previous works. Yet, his bent on what is generally described as mixed or complex techniques (increasingly referred to as “author’s technique”) has always been present. Combining different styles — and often materials (wood, stone, metal) — in a single image has been a central component of his individual modus operandi. He can harmonize pliable with smooth, hard materials of a dull luster. This conflicting, at times almost aggressive unity of opposites constitutes one of the most important qualities of what he has been creating these days.
* * *
Yevhen Derevianko’s latest works could certainly be described as “author’s technique.” Its most important components are levkas [a mixture of chalk or alabaster with clay, used for coating) and collage. Levkas, for want of a better term, in his case has to be applied to an imitation of cave paintings, those “dancing men” emerging on the surface saturated with texture and color. As for collage, it includes metal cubes with shining polished facets or, for example, small glass lenses squeezed in the “body.” Thus emerges an incredible, absurd, yet logical “organism.”
Yevhen Derevianko creates his “organisms” literally in two opposite directions: inside and out. On the one hand, there is a continuous “grafting” of tissue which, depending on the concept, forms something delicate, fragile, resembling coral twigs-something gnarled and powerful. This sculptural growth might seem a continuous process, the end of which is determined by the artist’s will. In reality, his objects, despite their unusual form and apparent amorphousness, have clearly defined, undeniable spatial boundaries. On reaching them, they become complete.
Yevhen Derevianko, however, not only increases the volume of his creations, but also subtracts from it. True, it must be admitted that he subtracts less by far than he adds. This subtraction is mostly in terms of levkas, when the lower picturesque layer must show and be “read” through the upper layer. As for cavities, they are included in the concept from the outset, for a definite purpose. Thus, they serve as a source of light that is also involved in the final modeling of the work of art.
* * *
What is left is probably most complicated — and most thrilling — something defined by the age-old, somewhat trite, yet accurate notion of idea. Here the eternal distinction between the idea and the theme (i.e., plot) seems finally reduced to nil. Works, such as Derevianko’s latest, are thoroughly and inherently intuitive, because the author sees them as something solid and, consequently, closed. Of course, this does not mean that these ideas cannot be “translated” into any other “language” except the sculptural one. It is just that understanding them is a very subjective, individual affair. The titles (and Derevianko’s works do have titles) will not help, because, despite all their brilliance, they are sufficiently smooth. Taking some risks, one may expect to discover in the newly formed “organisms” a philosophical abyss and void (the former is, of course, more flattering for both the viewer and the sculpture).
* * *
Deciphering all these deceptively organic coded messages takes plenty of painstaking work. But in the end “The Circle of Cronos” revolving about its axis will emerge as a two-dimensional universe (aware of the third dimension about as much as we are of the fourth one), with a flat Earth upon which people had lived, convinced of that shape, till the modern era, and with a reminder of an hourglass turning (being turned by someone) about its axis. “The Genetic Code” will incorporate all the conceivable beginning, from a germ of grain flattering as it grows to the dawn of art, touchingly vain, yet invariably enigmatic.
