It seems that one of the most important things in Ieva Skauronė’s painting is the process itself. And what is the process of painting? First of all, the thought and the idea, then the dipping of the tool (brush, spatula, roller) in paint, then the actual application of oil or acrylic color on the surface, and then the alchemical adventure that comes out of it all. It can be a simple work product with a predictable end, a final goal, or it can be a miracle, where not only the viewer is astounded, but also the performer – i.e., the artist. I think that I. Skauronė is trying to indulge in this experience (and succeeding!). The reason for this success can be explained. The painter is unconditionally devoted to the magic of color. She confidently chooses bright and pure colors – blue, yellow, red, green. Then, just as boldly, she combines them, layers, and overlays them on the picture planes, letting them interact, communicate, play, contact each other. Thus, the artist trusts in the colors and the inherent (physical) properties of paint, and these both material and non-verbalized, even irrational, things pay off on an “eye for an eye” basis. That’s what makes it possible for this color alchemy to take place, which is often referred to as simply a painting (specifically) or painting (in general and in essence).
The artist herself has called this collection of her latest paintings (summarized and characterized) by the term “Separate and Related.” In this way, the artist has defined the basic structural principle of her paintings – they are made up of separate, autonomous segments, but at the same time, these sovereign elements are subordinated to a single whole. The effect is somewhat reminiscent of a typhoon or a whirlwind, in which air molecules, dust, and larger physical objects swirl into a gigantic vortex. These formations enchant not only the viewer’s eye, but also the soul, as they make you believe in the existence of invisible but actually existing phenomena (be it wind or atmosphere). Similarly, through color and brushstrokes, I. Skauronė convinces us of the existence of passing time and frozen eternity, of personal experiences and cultural memory. For indeed, in those color forms, in those coloristic shapes, such things are captured and encoded. The piercing eye and the sensitive soul need only to see and feel what exists out there – between and beyond the brushstrokes, in endless formats that resemble boundless deserts (sometimes even wastelands), in the most real pictorial hurricanes that make us believe in unreal things. Rainer M. Rilke’s lines from Das Stunden-Buch (The Book of Hours) are as appropriate as ever: “Until I perceived it, no thing was complete,/ but waited, hushed, unfulfilled./ My vision is ripe, to each glance like a bride/ comes softly the thing that was willed./ There is nothing too small, but my tenderness paints it large on a background of gold,/ and I prize it, not knowing whose soul at the sight,/ released, may unfold…”... This is perhaps the essence of the separate and the related, the painted and the yet-to-be-painted (we are talking about a process after all!).
