CARRY WORK
The art of holding
That which has no limits.But is not infinite.That the infinite limits.That which is scattered and limited.That we can
Gather only from ourselves.
Ann Jäderlund, from the collection
Vad hjälper det en människa om hon
häller rent vatten över sig i alla sina dagar (2009)
Maria Hurtig’s works both hold back and let go, at once both embrace and set free. Her sober, serene style encompasses clarity and enigma alike. Vessels about to reveal themselves or disappear on huge canvases. The soul’s landscape, with no given place on the map. Veil-like bags that vibrate in the air to a singular choreography.
Although seemingly independent, these poetic pieces correspond among themselves. Springing from within the artist, they resonate with astute viewers who will find their own answers among colours, shapes, light and movement.
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To Maria Hurtig, creating is to remember. The canvases settle like a fine blanket on the past that crumbles with time. The art follows an invisible time axis here. Echoes from childhood. The voices of her sisters and parents. The rooms, stairs and light in the grey house, that are still there and yet not. And the hours in daddy’s studio, where Maria first started creating long before she even realised it. None of this is depicted, but everything leaves its invisible mark on the delicate works, where the line between abstraction and figuration has dissolved.
In this sense, art connects the destinies of a number of human beings, what once was with what is right now. There is really no end point in Maria’s creative process. It is not about an inability to finish, but the power to embrace and start over again. Therefore, she revisits certain paintings after a long time. Something is added. Something removed. Other works are contemplated but left unaltered. Art is in no hurry. It follows its own rhythm.
The links between the paintings are subtle rather than explicit here. Our eye finds kinships between the motifs that reappear without being repeated. The compositional principle is strict and free at the same time. The coarse canvases are often large and harbours evasive shapes. Some seem to float above the surface. Others are absorbed into the background, as if they were welcomed and found shelter there.
Large vessels, containers of some kind, appear in terse shapes that bely their ambiguous nature. It could be misleading to speak of symbolism in these somehow restrained, veritably minimalist paintings, composed through sparse gestures. The containers, then, would be emblems for mother and father and a few other relatives, says the artist. The art that is so deeply rooted in the personal still liberates itself with surprising ease from its creator. Unimpeded, it can be received by anyone prepared to feel and see.
Maria Hurtig’s work is purposeful yet intuitive, analytical yet emotional. Her earthy palette oscillates between ephemerally light, subtle, pale nuances, and dark, sombre tones with murky shades and an abundance of deep-green in dissolved landscapes. Here, nature is like dream visions just after waking – unreal, inscrutable and overpowering. The clock ticks, but time is broken in these scenes, where the swaying row of rushes becomes the world’s own harp at dawn and dusk.
Joanna Persman
