Review on Islands a solo show of Iris Cintra
By Michael Kovner
Upon encountering Iris’s paintings for the first time, I am reminded of the pictures of David Park and Richard Diebenkorn. The Bay Area Figurative Movement – The San Francisco School acted as an alternative to the New York scene. Attention to color and light expressed the scenic landscape in which these artists grew up. I do not wish to burden Iris with this heavy cultural baggage. However, there is something similar in the Mediterranean experience and in Haifa that seems to be light-years away from Tel Aviv. The contrast between two world views which also entail different perceptions of painting. The distance from the center allows an artist like Iris to penetrate an interior that in a loud place like Tel Aviv she would perhaps not dare touch. Her painting holds both sensitivity and power. The attempt to touch the residual aspect of life and interweave the figurative with the abstract is always a daring, adventurous move. The area she tries to reach is fluid. It callously requires the artist to be expressed, but at one and the same time remains in hiding and resists. The figurative is essentially against it. The abstract is more naturally associated with it. The attempt to realistically touch the metaphysical is doomed to fail, but when it succeeds a powerful, inspirational world is created. This is how I see Iris’s paintings. They are first and foremost an attempt to touch the untouchable, and this is why they intrigue and pull us towards them.
The small paintings give a sense of the first touch, stemming from the simple stance of wanting to express and capture this elusive thing living inside us that refuses to become a figurative object. This attempt to accomplish the impossible makes Iris’s works so interesting and appealing. At times it all comes together in a verse of sorts. Loud and clear, and simply saying ‘I am here. This is what I am.’ And this thing that is nothing but itself is important and compelling.
The attention paid to the materiality of color is also reminiscent of the School of Fine Arts in San Francisco. To me, those two painters were wonderful artists who contributed much to American culture. Iris’s engagement with color and its interaction with the canvas is one of simplicity and an uncompromising will to create and unapologetic, primal, lively touch with the canvas. I believe that if we, as painters, lend an ear to this simple will (of the color meeting the canvas), we have done enough. We have done our duty. Think if the extraordinary painter Philip Guston (I was lucky enough to be his disciple). All of his might is encompassed in this touch. Iris’s paintings, too, have that pathos, originating in this simple and strong will. The lively freshness of her works is in itself valuable both in the painting and the internal life of any artist.
I shall close with a quote from Albert Camus’ “Return to Tipasa” (from French: Justin O’brien): ‘But in order to keep justice… I discovered once more at Tipasa that one must keep intact in oneself a freshness, a cool wellspring of joy, love the day that escapes injustice, and return to combat having won that light.’
By Michael Kovner
Upon encountering Iris’s paintings for the first time, I am reminded of the pictures of David Park and Richard Diebenkorn. The Bay Area Figurative Movement – The San Francisco School acted as an alternative to the New York scene. Attention to color and light expressed the scenic landscape in which these artists grew up. I do not wish to burden Iris with this heavy cultural baggage. However, there is something similar in the Mediterranean experience and in Haifa that seems to be light-years away from Tel Aviv. The contrast between two world views which also entail different perceptions of painting. The distance from the center allows an artist like Iris to penetrate an interior that in a loud place like Tel Aviv she would perhaps not dare touch. Her painting holds both sensitivity and power. The attempt to touch the residual aspect of life and interweave the figurative with the abstract is always a daring, adventurous move. The area she tries to reach is fluid. It callously requires the artist to be expressed, but at one and the same time remains in hiding and resists. The figurative is essentially against it. The abstract is more naturally associated with it. The attempt to realistically touch the metaphysical is doomed to fail, but when it succeeds a powerful, inspirational world is created. This is how I see Iris’s paintings. They are first and foremost an attempt to touch the untouchable, and this is why they intrigue and pull us towards them.
The small paintings give a sense of the first touch, stemming from the simple stance of wanting to express and capture this elusive thing living inside us that refuses to become a figurative object. This attempt to accomplish the impossible makes Iris’s works so interesting and appealing. At times it all comes together in a verse of sorts. Loud and clear, and simply saying ‘I am here. This is what I am.’ And this thing that is nothing but itself is important and compelling.
The attention paid to the materiality of color is also reminiscent of the School of Fine Arts in San Francisco. To me, those two painters were wonderful artists who contributed much to American culture. Iris’s engagement with color and its interaction with the canvas is one of simplicity and an uncompromising will to create and unapologetic, primal, lively touch with the canvas. I believe that if we, as painters, lend an ear to this simple will (of the color meeting the canvas), we have done enough. We have done our duty. Think if the extraordinary painter Philip Guston (I was lucky enough to be his disciple). All of his might is encompassed in this touch. Iris’s paintings, too, have that pathos, originating in this simple and strong will. The lively freshness of her works is in itself valuable both in the painting and the internal life of any artist.
I shall close with a quote from Albert Camus’ “Return to Tipasa” (from French: Justin O’brien): ‘But in order to keep justice… I discovered once more at Tipasa that one must keep intact in oneself a freshness, a cool wellspring of joy, love the day that escapes injustice, and return to combat having won that light.’