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拍品专文
Behind Slominski's traps is concealed a complex universe, governed by ambiguity, by paradox, by a very special game: for himself, for the exhibition of Art, but also for the viewer.
Real animal traps, it doesn't matter if they originated from found objects then modified by the artist, rather than being purposely created by him to trap. At any rate, the traps are perfectly functional and must be placed so that they can function (otherwise, what kind of traps would they be?). Of course, within the context of an exhibition, the traps are considered first and foremost as sculptures, with their own precise mechanism that distinguishes them and prepares them for the role of catching which the artist attributes to them. Exhibited, they display no movement, they are static, but everyone knows they can "act': it is as though their potential energy, hidden within, might explode from one moment to the next. Not being simply representations of traps, but real traps constructed by the artist, we confront them as if before a work of art, thus entering into the game established by Slominski.
Viewers find them rather amusing, then a little surprising, but they also feel a sense of unease due to the often coarse and "natural" appearance of the common materials used, sometimes camouflaged, but always driven by the deceit pursued by the artist. These are works that are playful and disturbing at the same time. Above all, his traps capture our eyes, our attention, our thought: paradoxically, are they traps just like sculptures or, rather, sculptures in the form of traps? And what if they were traps for our perception of art? In this space dominated by doubt, we must seek the intent (and the ambiguity) of the artist, who wishes to dominate the game imposed on the viewer. And he succeeds. His sculptures do not have to arouse emotion, but instead curiosity and attraction. He succeeded even with me: with this perfectly functioning trap for martens, which I have always kept away from the hands of the boldest visitors. I saw it in action at the time of its acquisition, then the "snap" of the trap shocked me, even though I appreciated, and still appreciate, the smallest details in the execution of the object.
And what was there to say about his windmills, which I couldn't manage to fit into the artist's logic? Then, the brainwave: they are traps for the wind! That there might also be some poetry hidden in the innocuous/violent work of Slominski?
Real animal traps, it doesn't matter if they originated from found objects then modified by the artist, rather than being purposely created by him to trap. At any rate, the traps are perfectly functional and must be placed so that they can function (otherwise, what kind of traps would they be?). Of course, within the context of an exhibition, the traps are considered first and foremost as sculptures, with their own precise mechanism that distinguishes them and prepares them for the role of catching which the artist attributes to them. Exhibited, they display no movement, they are static, but everyone knows they can "act': it is as though their potential energy, hidden within, might explode from one moment to the next. Not being simply representations of traps, but real traps constructed by the artist, we confront them as if before a work of art, thus entering into the game established by Slominski.
Viewers find them rather amusing, then a little surprising, but they also feel a sense of unease due to the often coarse and "natural" appearance of the common materials used, sometimes camouflaged, but always driven by the deceit pursued by the artist. These are works that are playful and disturbing at the same time. Above all, his traps capture our eyes, our attention, our thought: paradoxically, are they traps just like sculptures or, rather, sculptures in the form of traps? And what if they were traps for our perception of art? In this space dominated by doubt, we must seek the intent (and the ambiguity) of the artist, who wishes to dominate the game imposed on the viewer. And he succeeds. His sculptures do not have to arouse emotion, but instead curiosity and attraction. He succeeded even with me: with this perfectly functioning trap for martens, which I have always kept away from the hands of the boldest visitors. I saw it in action at the time of its acquisition, then the "snap" of the trap shocked me, even though I appreciated, and still appreciate, the smallest details in the execution of the object.
And what was there to say about his windmills, which I couldn't manage to fit into the artist's logic? Then, the brainwave: they are traps for the wind! That there might also be some poetry hidden in the innocuous/violent work of Slominski?