| Mem Fliigel ist zum Schwung bereil,ich kchrc | | | | subject and object, gives to his fishes, |
| gem zutuck,dcnn blieb ich auch Icbendlge | | | | butterflies and landscapes full of colors, |
| Zcil,ich hiitte wenig Gliick. | | | | the point of view which belongs to the |
| | | | observer (numbers...), that of our private |
| (Gerhard Scholem Grass vom Angclus) | | | | and mental investigation. A number is always |
| | | | a symbol of something else which has been |
| We have always been imprisoned by illusions | | | | thought, in our mind it is a fact, an action |
| and doubts, between a dream of flying and | | | | together with his perceptions. We are in a |
| earthly wishes. These uncertainties and | | | | world which is gazed by something else, we |
| obstacles have brought progress towards vague | | | | are the past, illusion and hope. A world |
| horizons, forgetting the real target that a | | | | where we canlive o¬n our impressions, |
| reasonable mind has been searching for | | | | taking them from an unidentified spectator, |
| centuries: the possibility of flying to | | | | perhaps an angel flying with open wings, |
| stars, that moral firmament which wraps up | | | | trying to decipher codes of existence, in the |
| our existence. This infinire pursues Riabow | | | | lapse of a moment fading away. Men and |
| who can't help using numbers, the myth of | | | | worlds, in Oleg's paintings seem to be |
| Icarus and colors which remember medieval and | | | | without real outlooks. A point of view |
| ancient paintings. | | | | without relativism is instead an observation |
| | | | reflecting o¬n what has been already |
| I am not speaking about metaphors, but about | | | | perceived. Our acts of knowledge are always |
| a symbol that immediately comes out from his | | | | situated o¬n a superior level, that is |
| pictures. It seems to me an imagery without | | | | what explains estrangement from the two |
| motion, a kaleidoscopic difference between | | | | different levels of the real world, too; the |
| colors, like sudden insights from the roof of | | | | first is imagery, the world as it is seen by |
| sky, a sort of coming back; but perhaps is | | | | human reason; the second are numbers and |
| our unconscious that arranges pictures in | | | | burning colors which o¬nly evoke reason |
| such a way. | | | | and mind, being impressed and printed in |
| | | | bodies of representation itself (even Icarus' |
| There are, I think, two main leitmotivs in | | | | butterfly wings remind to a definite |
| Oleg's creation: estrangement that also means | | | | zymology). |
| going away, and a point of view without | | | | |
| relativism. The observer (but do we really | | | | Who is the observer now? Perhaps that Angelm |
| know who that is?) is situated in a position | | | | Novus by Klee, taken by Walter Benjamin in |
| that seems going away from representation | | | | his essay about philosophy of history. If we |
| shown in the picture: it is not our mind that | | | | accept this we can say that Oleg's creation |
| imagines a ship fishing in our everyday dish, | | | | is absolutely metaphysical: the angel sight |
| not our eye seeing tumblers or others | | | | over a world made of illusion and |
| mythical figures; Oleg, leaving out and | | | | uncertainty. |
| suspending the natural connection between | | | | |