“The drawings of Panos Raimondos” – 23/01/14 – 08/03/14

Panos Raimondos

“The drawings of Panos Raimondos”

Curator: Christopher Marinos

23 January – 8 March 2014

On Thursday, January 23 at 8.00 in the evening Maria Demetriades opens the exhibition “The drawings of Panos Raimondos” at the Medusa Art Gallery.

The exhibition comprises twenty-one drawings by the self-taught sculptor Raimondos. Most were executed during the artist’s time in Paris and are the only ones to survive. They present dozens of angelic figures drawn with ballpoint pen on newspaper sheets. All but one of the works were made on copies of Le Monde, and the other one on a sheet of the Greek newspaper Acropolis. The drawings span almost a decade, the first dating from October 17, 1972 and the latest from October 2, 1981, by which time the artist had moved permanently to Athens.

How do we read these drawings today? How do they relate to the sculptural work of Raymondos? “Some become sculptors because they like using their hands”, said Henry Moore in his well-known lecture about ‘The Sculptor in Modern Society’. In the case of Raimondos, the artist’s need to use his hands becomes a kind of daily prayer. His drawings emphasise the body’s motion, density and hovering, while each angelic figure has different features. Raimondos’ drawings are accompanied by a series of wood carvings, with their juxtaposition aiming to promote the viewers’ understanding of the artist’s vision—a vision in which childishness and an unaffected simplicity have a key role. Starting from the drawings of Raimondos as its focus, the exhibition attempts a new reading of his oeuvre.

Raimondos (Panayotis Remoundos) was born in 1927. He decided to take up sculpture in the gloomy post-war years. As to many Greek artists of his generation, emigration seemed inevitable. Following his childhood friends Takis (Vassilakis) and Minos Argyrakis —the latter would introduce him to the Greek audience with a laudatory article in the Eleftheria newspaper—Raimondos took his first artistic steps in Paris, where he stayed for two decades (1959-1979). Although not avant-garde in the modernist sense of the term, his work has a special side to it that makes it attractive: throughout his life, the sculptor obsessively carved female angelic forms on wood. He used to say that his creations were meant for future generations. “I always worked on my own idea of angels and bodies, convinced that man must always move upward. We could see that a new age was beginning, that the misery, the system should change. The world moved forward. My thoughts went towards space”. Raimondos died in Athens in 1995.

Opening hours: Tuesday – Friday 12:00 – 21:30 & Saturday 11:00 – 16:00

(GR) Ελευθεροτυπία, Τετάρτη 29 Ιανουαρίου 2014

Μαρία Μαραγκού

Ο καλλιτέχνης και ο μύθος του

Ο μύθος μπορεί να δημιουργηθεί από τον ίδιο τον καλλιτέχνη, από το περιβάλλον του, από την εποχή του, από ένα και μόνο έργο. Συνήθως ο χρόνος προσπερνά τον κατασκευασμένο μύθο, ενώ είναι αδυσώπητος με το μύθο που αφορά το έργο
Ο δικός μας χρόνος δύσκολα αποδέχεται το μύθο του καλλιτέχνη, αφού η αντιπαλότητα με την πραγματική ζωή εύκολα ξεπερνά την τέχνη. Τι μπορούμε να αντιπαραθέσουμε στη νοσταλγία της στέγης που εκφράζει δυνατά ο άστεγος και τα κουρέλια του στους δρόμους της Αθήνας; Να μετρήσουμε έργα καλλιτεχνών ή να ανασύρουμε στη μνήμη τα φρέσκα του Τζιότο στην Πάντοβα; Ακραίο παράδειγμα, σε ακραίες συνθήκες ζωής, στην ακραία γοητεία της Αθήνας. Βλέποντας τον άστεγο φτιάχνω την περαιτέρω εικόνα της ζωής του, άκρως ρεαλιστικά.

Βλέποντας τα φρέσκο δεν έχω το παραμικρό ενδιαφέρον να βρω σε ποια στιγμή της ζωής του Χριστού ανταποκρίνονται ούτε να φτιάξω το δικό μου σενάριο, μια και το αίσθημα που παράγει το έργο, ακόμη και ως μνήμη, κυριαρχεί μην επιτρέποντας τη δημιουργία παρεμβατικών εικόνων.
Ο μύθος, ωστόσο, μοιάζει απαραίτητος. Προχθές κουβέντιαζα με φίλους καλλιτέχνες για τον Ακριθάκη και το μύθο του, δηλαδή για τις συμπεριφορές τού καλλιτέχνη σε σχέση με το κοινωνικό περιβάλλον. Φαντάζομαι ότι ο μύθος της καθημερινότητας θα ξεχαστεί όταν φύγουν και οι τελευταίοι που τον γνώριζαν και σταματήσουν, εκ των πραγμάτων, τα ανέκδοτα. Ο μύθος του έργου παραμένει ισχυρός και μάλλον θα εξακολουθήσει να κυριαρχεί και στο μέλλον.
Από την άλλη, βλέπουμε και ξαναβλέπουμε εκθέσεις και έργα βαρυσήμαντων ονομάτων που δεν έχουν τίποτα να μας πουν, αλλά και ξεχασμένα ονόματα, που αν βρεις έργο τους σε ένα σπίτι ή ένα χώρο, συγκλονίζεσαι.

Η παρουσίαση των έργων τού παρελθόντος, ακόμη και του κοντινού, είναι εντελώς διαφορετική από εκείνη του σύγχρονου έργου και βέβαια και τα δύο απαιτούν το περιβάλλον που θα τα αναδείξει, δίχως σκηνοθετικά τερτίπια.
Το ζήτημα του μύθου με απασχόλησε αυτές τις τελευταίες ημέρες, μέσα από τρεις καινούργιες εκθέσεις καλλιτεχνών που διαθέτουν μύθο.
Η περίπτωση Ραϋμόνδου διαθέτει ένα εντελώς διαφορετικό μύθο. Ο ίδιος ζούσε με έναν τρόπο μακριά από τον κόσμο, σε ένα κτήμα με εκατοντάδες γάτες, έφτιαχνε γλυπτά και συχνά τα έθαβε. Ο μύθος διαθέτει γραφικότητα. Η αλήθεια είναι ότι λίγο απασχόλησε τους ανθρώπους το μονοκόμματο, σχεδόν ακατέργαστο ξύλο των αγγέλων του, η απόλυτη αφαίρεση των χαρακτηριστικών της μορφής και, κυρίως, η σημασία να κλείνεις στο χώμα τα έργα σου.
Μια απόλυτα πρωτοποριακή κίνηση της εποχής του Ραϋμόνδου, με διαφορετικές ερμηνείες, που ο ίδιος ή το περιβάλλον του ποτέ δεν ερμήνευσαν. Σήμερα, υποψιαζόμαστε ότι η πράξη αυτή δηλώνει το τέλος του προορισμού του έργου τέχνης, μετά τη διαδικασία της δημιουργίας του, αλλά και την περιφρόνηση ή την αδυναμία ένταξης στους κανόνες της αγοράς, τις κοινωνικές σχέσεις και τις εύληπτες συμπεριφορές που μπορεί να κάνουν τον καλλιτέχνη αρεστό.

Κατά τη γνώμη μου, με τον Ραϋμόνδο δεν τελειώσαμε. Η Μαρία Δημητριάδη, της «Μέδουσας», από τους γκαλερίστες που ασχολήθηκαν χάριν προσωπικού πάθους με την τέχνη, ευτυχώς κράτησε στην προσωπική της συλλογή αρκετά γλυπτά και μια σειρά από σχέδια του καλλιτέχνη σε χαρτί εφημερίδας, τα οποία και παρουσιάζονται με την επιμέλεια του Χριστόφορου Μαρίνου.

Να ζωγραφίζεις σε εφημερίδες που μπορεί και να πεταχτούν έχει την ίδια σημασία (για τον καλλιτέχνη) με το να κρύβεις σε τάφο τα γλυπτά σου. Εκείνο, πάλι, που παρατηρεί κανείς, πέραν από την προσωπική σχέση του καλλιτέχνη με την αγορά, είναι ότι τα σχέδια διαθέτουν λεπτομέρειες στην περι-γραφή των σωμάτων, του προσώπου, των μελών που κινούνται, αν και μοιάζουν πανομοιότυπα. Με έναν τρόπο, αναγνωρίζουμε εδώ ένα λόγιο καλλιτέχνη που γνωρίζει την παλιά γλυπτική (το σχέδιό του είναι του γλύπτη, όχι του ζωγράφου) και μάλλον οργανώνει την προετοιμασία του γλυπτού, παράγοντας, ωστόσο, ένα εκπληκτικό αυτόνομο έργο.
Βλέποντας αυτά τα σχέδια, ένας «ονειροπαρμένος» επιμελητής φαντασιώνει ένα χώρο με τοίχους γεμάτους φιγούρες του Ραϋμόνδου και στο χώρο τα μικρά γλυπτά του Γιώργου Λάππα. Σχέσεις παράδοξες, ίσως, που η κρίση δεν θα μας επιτρέψει να ανακαλύψουμε (ακόμη και ως σφάλμα), εκτός και αν τα μεγάλα ιδρύματα αποκτήσουν φαντασία.

The drawings of Panos Raimondos

Writing about Paul Thek's Newspaper Paintings collector and curator Kenny Schachter points out certain characteristics that seem to be common among works using the newspaper as raw material and conceptual basis: 'Creating newspaper art that would last contradicted the inherent instability and valuelessness of a given newspaper page. The disposable, good-for-a-day shelf-life of newspapers was transformed into something immortal and everlasting […] The habit of continuously working on newsprint has the characteristics of an absolution, a ritual […] [The newspaper became] a conceptual girder, a structure that would underpin the image with a built-in obsolescence. […] By using newspaper as palette and canvas, Thek made painting immediately historical, affixing himself to his era like a leech or a parasite, physically inserting himself into advertising, politics, business, and sport - as well as art. […] A delicate, tentative resource within the hierarchy of artistic media, newspaper could be seen as inferior not only to canvas but to drawing paper as well.'
Although markedly different from Thek's Newspaper Paintings (1969-1988) and coming from another place altogether, Panos Raimondos' newspaper drawings share all of the above characteristics. In both cases, the newspaper is not only the work's medium but also a key to unlocking its meaning. But contrary to Thek, who painted over the pages of the International Herald Tribune with washes of acrylic paint, leaving only a fringe of readable matter around the edges of the work, Raimondos chooses not to 'cast a veil over the central importance of current events'. Before his drawings a viewer can easily become a reader as the artist seems to have no interest in covering up the content of the newsprint. If Thek is 'subverting and undermining history as well as authorship – while in effect rewriting the news', Raimondos is inserting his figures into the text and images that inhabit the newspaper page. In a way, it is as if he were drawing on the pane of a window that opens onto reality. Here, each newspaper sheet amounts to a readymade record containing all the narrative clues one needs to make sense of the artist's gesture and the works themselves.
Raimondos' drawings depict dozens of bodies, similar and yet quite distinct, and a series of recurring geometric motifs. These bodies, whose forms for the most part are reminiscent of angels, cram into the pages of as many as twenty issues of French broadsheet Le Monde, and one issue of Athenian newspaper Akropolis. The drawings cover the span of almost a decade: the first one is dated 17 October 1972, a time when the artist resided in Paris, and the last one is dated 2 October 1981, by which time he had returned to Athens.
Major figures of the French intelligentsia parade across the pages of Le Monde on which Raimondos sketches: journalists and authors such as Bertrand Poirot-Delpech, Marc Ambroise-Rendu, Jean-Marc Théolleyre, and Pierre-Robert Leclercq; philosophers Jean-Toussaint Desanti and Roger-Pol Droit (who write on Spinoza); famous poet Alain Bosquet, and film critic Colette Godard, not to mention a great politician, Enrico Berlinguer, then secretary of the Italian Communist Party, whose interview with La Stampa journalist Carlo Casalegno –who would be killed a year later by the Red Brigades– features in the 3 February 1976 issue. The last drawing in the series (Le Monde des Livres) is of particular interest: there are reviews on books published that year in French, such as Italo Svevo's As a Man Grows Older (Senilitá) and Lewis Carroll's The Hunting of the Snark, and reviews on films then released, such as Miklós Jancsó's Red Psalm and François Truffaut's The Woman Next Door. On the same spread an article titled 'Freud Anarchiste' by famous writer Roland Jaccard stands out: it marks the publication of Pouvoirs no 11, a collective work probing the relationship between psychoanalysis and politics. But there are also some interesting photos to be found on the pages of Le Monde, including a portrait of Baruch Spinoza, which Raimondos leaves untouched, and an ad for a production of Sleeping Beauty (La Belle au Bois Dormant) featuring Rudolph Nureyev, running at the Palais des Sports through January-February 1976. Finally, these pages are filled with economic and political reports, as well as brief accounts of everyday events, the so-called faits divers that serve to attest the great paradox that is the world.
How, then, may Raimondos' drawings be read today? In the absence of the artist's own testimony, which might have provided answers to certain critical questions (why does he draw, what was the source of inspiration for his drawings, and how might they relate with his sculptural work?), we have no alternative but to read his images against the historical backdrop on which they are literally inscribed. In many respects, the well-known aphorism 'God is in the details' here proves especially useful. For instance, can Spinoza's practical philosophy, his theory of the subject and definition of the body elucidate for us the dense cohabitation of Raimondos' angels? 'By body I mean a mode which expresses in a certain determinate manner the essence of God, in so far as he is considered as an extended thing', writes the philosopher in his Ethics. Such a critical approach is not without precedent: one need only consult one of John Berger's latest books which looks at the impulse to draw in the light of Spinoza's thought. There is, moreover, sufficient background to explain why a newspaper may be an ideal space for Raimondos' angels: one need only read Roland Barthes' analysis of the structure of the faits divers and of what they reveal about 'man, […] his history, his alienation, his hallucinations, his dreams, his fears'.
The newspaper is the appropriate medium for Raimondos' drawings because his vision was humanistic. He believed in progress, in the future. His was a vision that pitted an unassuming childlike take on the world against life's unpolished simplicity. Confronted with these angelic forms, which seem poised 'in a certain equilibrium of motion and stillness', the viewer can well picture them whirling. At the same time he becomes convinced of the sculptor's need to use his hands in some sort of daily prayer ritual. Through his drawings Raimondos is showing us what a body can do.

Christopher Marinos