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拍品專文
‘I want to be the observer who sees... all the possibilities of relationship or absence of relationship between that image and us’ – Giulio Paolini
Acquired from the artist and held in the same collection ever since, Copia dal Vero (Copy from Truth) is a playful and provocative example of Giulio Paolini’s philosophical practice. Fascinated by the intellectual processes behind artistic creation, Paolini’s practice is a captivating attempt at unlocking such unknowns. In Copia dal Vero, two squares frame a third, a simplified sketch of a canvas’s verso. These, in turn, are nested between the wooden stretcher bars of a reversed canvas. The image is self-reflexive, a dizzying puzzle in spare, elegant line. Together, these geometries represent the reverse view of a painting, a site of inquiry that Paolini has interrogated repeatedly throughout his career. Absent an image of its completed artwork, Copia dal Vero at first appears to reveal nothing. It does, however, offer up a tantalising proposition evoked in the eloquence of the title, a poetic gesture with ontological significance: what is the true nature of a painting? By refusing to disclose any picture, Copia dal Vero challenges the belief in the individuating aura of an artwork and frustrates any romanticised notion of the artist as a singular genius. Describing the work, Paolini said, ‘It alludes to the total potential that these images might be. But it leaves us out of the scene completely because we can’t see them… Certainly I am interested in the things that transcend material reality. That come from the space which is beyond us’ (G. Paolini, quoted in R. Spence, ‘Giulio Paolini at Whitechapel Gallery’, Financial Times, 11 July 2014).
Acquired from the artist and held in the same collection ever since, Copia dal Vero (Copy from Truth) is a playful and provocative example of Giulio Paolini’s philosophical practice. Fascinated by the intellectual processes behind artistic creation, Paolini’s practice is a captivating attempt at unlocking such unknowns. In Copia dal Vero, two squares frame a third, a simplified sketch of a canvas’s verso. These, in turn, are nested between the wooden stretcher bars of a reversed canvas. The image is self-reflexive, a dizzying puzzle in spare, elegant line. Together, these geometries represent the reverse view of a painting, a site of inquiry that Paolini has interrogated repeatedly throughout his career. Absent an image of its completed artwork, Copia dal Vero at first appears to reveal nothing. It does, however, offer up a tantalising proposition evoked in the eloquence of the title, a poetic gesture with ontological significance: what is the true nature of a painting? By refusing to disclose any picture, Copia dal Vero challenges the belief in the individuating aura of an artwork and frustrates any romanticised notion of the artist as a singular genius. Describing the work, Paolini said, ‘It alludes to the total potential that these images might be. But it leaves us out of the scene completely because we can’t see them… Certainly I am interested in the things that transcend material reality. That come from the space which is beyond us’ (G. Paolini, quoted in R. Spence, ‘Giulio Paolini at Whitechapel Gallery’, Financial Times, 11 July 2014).