Lyusya Voronova (Pictures From A Different Space)

Moscow-based painter Lyusa Voronova (born in 1953) is one of the artists who are hard to define, living on the periphery of high art, a periphery which is starting to occupy the territory on the other side of bright news. She has been taking part in various exhibitions around Europe since mid 80´s and at the beginning of this year, she presented her work briefly in Prague´s Hermit Gallery.
Her seemingly unconspicuous, “diary-like“ work does not lack vigour of communicating symbols which have always been used in people´s effort to understand each other. Lyusa, however, does not decode any news: she draws and paints because there is nothing else for her to do. Instinctively, she finds forms that do not appear impassioned, utilizing used materials, paper with print, paper destined for destruction.
Lyusa´s drawings are as intense as first expressions of a child filling the area of the paper systematically while subconsciously either using the underlying print or denying it completely. With an obsession of a scientist of artistic expression, she covers areas which had served other purposes before, reaching emotional effect which is similar to the first steps on the surface of the Moon.
Lyusa´s direct approach may evoke impression that her work is a well thought out concept, based on social subtexts or intentionally banal products of consumer society. Juxtaposed to it may be aesthetics of emotions which are invisible to human eyes. It seems, however, that Lyusa´s message comes from a completely different space.

Lyusa Voronova: Texts


It´s impossible to get used to
The fact that everybody is the same.

Time has no length, pain
Does not die with time. The pain is so
Strong just like in the first moment, it burns
And bothers, sometimes it burst so
Strong that it is almost unbearable.
Nothing can be limited by time,
Everything happens at once, now
It stretches out. It is not time that heals
But clear skies, blows of wind, sudden
Melody.

Winter is here - spring time is about to come.

In the morning I look out of the window with curiosity
Trying to see whether the countryside is still the same.

I don´t understand what is big and what is small.

Art - just like nature - has no
Frontiers in time and space.

I speak - I feel, I listen - I feel.
It´s impossible to do it just like that.
(pages 12 through 13)