Isabela Muci – Individual Show at The Chill Concept, Miami. Opening: April 9th, 2015.
A graduate of Universidad Católica Andrés Bello, Caracas, and Parsons School of Design, Paris, Muci explores the organic fusion of oil on 12 recicled wood pannels from wire drums as well as on 60 small format canvas.
Muci’s investigation goes on painting as a meditation, a form of self transformation. By means of artistic resources that highlight her sinuous, fluid, nearly ethereal figures, she handles, at once, a rough line evocative of German expressionists such as Kirchner and modern Europeans like Matisse. In this body of work Alejandro Sebastiani’s -venezuelan writer- collaborated with poetic interventions.
A text on this group of work from Alejandro Sebastiani Verlezza
November, 2013 (originaly written in spanish):
A note that vanishes
These images are undulating –they vibrate. They are on a rare edge: they emerge gradually. Here I find part of the awe they inflict upon me. Something implies unattachment: the home of these bodies seems to be in the air –– they materialize only at intervals. Women, women captive of an instant that cannot be deciphered ––for what? They are pure mutability. Each piece entraps a form that is a landscape at the same time, memory of something long past. The blurring is not always literal. Just the necessary occurs –in the material, the colors, the fissure background. Sometimes parts of bodies appear, vague vestiges that the imagination completes and lightly outlines––to withstand the vertiginous levitation of their footsteps. Always on the run, on the road. Sometimes I think they are unfoldings of Nadja whom André Breton invented, but who already existed in the fauna of the effervescent Paris, perfect for any evasion ––its boulevards, the legs of its women, fugitives as well, sunning somewhere on the grass. Later, Julio Cortázar chose that same figure and made it race through the pages of his Rayuela. Did he ever find her? –he asked himself. No, not completely. Only at times. Because under the thickness there is something playing like Circe –I cannot think of anything else. They are witch-like images created by Isabela Muci, and what they leave behind are only trails ––offerings, veil and masking. It is the smokescreen game looking for a body. Revealing while hiding, each surface offers the preparation for new visual conspiracies. They too. Emerging is their fate. Emerge, emerge from their support to cloud the perception unsure of what conclusions to walk into. Emerge, emerge leaping, guided by the rhapsodic flight of their transit ––and the scant clothing hanging from the skin seem to get in the way, only the sound of the sometimes angry wind offers them pleasure.