Mesha Sendyk | ABOUT THE ARTIST

Words Within Worlds
Adam Boyd
29:III:09

At first glance it’s clear that there are two main themes to Mesha Sendyk’s painting; her text works and her more abstract ‘koans’. Clearly there are significant stylistic differences and conceptual concerns that separate the two projects, but beneath the patina of difference they are actually quite closely linked.

Her text based works, all highly saturated postmodern exhortation, drip and drag their way across the canvas in stark and earnest calls to action (or reaction). In a literal way they mean what they say, they sit comfortably as a collection of mantras for the 21st century, advocating self empowerment and self awareness.

Within the picture plane though, a gradual abstracting of the letters and words begins to unfold. Text becomes form and meaning dissolves into little plays of dark and light and color. The disruption of the cognitive process that occurs as a result of these textual manipulations (as the mind moves between text and image) forces a shift of perception in the viewer. And this, you suspect, is the point of the work. It’s as if the viewer is being asked to switch across to different parts of the brain to fully absorb the work, as if they are challenging us to question the way we think about the world. This is precisely what good artwork ought to do; challenge our beliefs, our fears and our prejudices. This is important because it is only when we begin to unravel some of the threads that weave our perceptions of the world to our preconceptions of it; that the possibilities for effecting real change in our lives begins to emerge. In this way, the text works are all vehicles for change, firstly [at face value] through their message then secondly, by advocating closer observance of the mind’s process.

On the other hand, well away from the jostle of language and meaning in the text pieces her visual koans are almost voiceless. These churning amorphous whirlpools of metallic and spectral colour stand in stark contrast to the measure and meter of language; these finely rendered studies in formlessness strip the cerebral away and speak to something deeper, almost primordial, lying deep within us. They suggest ancient systems of organization too wild and complex and energetic to apprehend, hybridizing, mutating agents of alchemic transformation. The implications for the viewer are that the same forces that shape the world are at work in the paintings too, and at one and the same time they are also at work upon us. Through these connections we are drawn bodily into the picture frame, it has become a story about us.

The deep resinous finish and the highly reflective surface of the paintings are another important feature of the koan paintings. Standing in front of the works, the viewer is once again pulled into the painting. As you shift position your reflected image moves across its surface, changing the value of the colour as it goes. As you or others move about the room it changes again. Subtle shifts to the ambient light also affect the image so that the canvas is never at rest, it always sits in response to that which is taking place around it.

Visually the koan paintings are rich in anthropomorphic potential. Worlds emerge and disappear easily, associations form and dissolve in an instant. Meaning is as elusive as ever but possibilities are more certain. Rather than pointing to specific, knowable points of reference, they offer us space; the infinite outer and the infinite inner simultaneously, and all the discursive potential that goes with it.

This is one of the enduring qualities of pure abstraction, the stripping away of all visual reference points to leave the picture plane free of literal connections. Yet faced with these paintings, with so much depth and luscious colour and suggestive form it’s easy to roll over to the temptations of free association; a duck here, a man with a pipe there and so on. The key to this work lies in resisting that impulse. Why? Because the challenge it throws down is to move beyond the retinal to the felt, from logic to experience or, if you like, from the head to the heart. In this process the eye becomes the vehicle, not the destination. The real work is to be done by the mind, at a level deeper than language, beyond attachment and sentimentality.

And this is the point at which the two streams of Mesha’s work come together; at the point of transformative potential. There is plenty on the surface to accommodate a casual encounter with the work; vibrant colours, deep spaces, complex details and so on, but it is quite hard to maintain that casualness over time. They push you on towards a more sustained and self-reflective engagement and then when you get to a new level, they urge you on again.  This is the beauty of abstraction in general, and these works in particular. Like a Rumi poem, they work on the level that suits you, and when you are ready, they push you on again towards a greater understanding. In that way they are quite relentless. They never sleep. There is freedom in this.