The Face was Abstraction / הפנים היו הפשטה
The Lobby Art Space, Tel Aviv, 2016
Solo Exhibition
"Constanin Brancusi’s 1910 “Sleeping Muse,” a marble sculpture of mythical status, is at the center of Dana Darvish’s new exhibition. Following his muse sculpture, Brancusi often returned to the theme of the reclining face, increasingly aspiring to a higher level of abstraction. In a series of doublings, distortions and overlays evocative of the modern master’s own intensive preoccupation with this theme, Darvish sets out to awaken the sleeping muse, taking the loss of the face – and in fact the loss of the muse – as her starting point for the series..."
Dana Darvish | Art. dana279@gmail.com
דנה דרויש | דנה דרוויש
Dana Darvish | Art. dana279@gmail.com
דנה דרויש | דנה דרוויש
The Gods' Sorrow | צער האלים
Video, 8:00 min, 2002
״In her work “The Gods’ Sorrow” (2002) Dana Darvish devises a nightmare vision of vicious matriarchial rule, with women warriors, harem concubines and showgirls alongside eunuchs and dogs - all loyal servants of a carnal and ruthless female monster. In “The Gods’ Sorrow”, much like Bataille’s “Story of the Eye” there is an excess of cruelty, sex and death, a visual deluge aimed at provoking a response from the viewer..."
from "Twisted Reality" Catalog. The Israeli Center for Digital Art
Curators: Irena Gordon & Yoav Raban
Continue Reading Hebrew & English
Turning Point 5 ~ נקודת ממפנה 5
Artist Statement
My artistic practice is centered on the photographic image, tackling notions of origin, reproduction and misappropriation. I produce mashed-up compositions of images from various sources, montaging them together through techniques of manual collage and digital manipulation, as well as layerings of video and text. My source materials draw primarily on art and its institutions, namely the museum and its systems of display through realms of historicity, reconstruction and the artifact.
The images I work with may undergo transformations through erasure, appropriation and deliberate misinformation – tactics that reframe the gaze, introducing new connotation for the image and an absorbed mode of viewing. Rather than undermine their inner logic, these operations are meant to stimulate the image away from the slumber of a familiar context, to scratch the surface and gain access the subterranean layers of its unconscious. In collage, such procedures can take the form of subtraction, addition (which likewise omits parts of the image through overlaying it with another), just as with textual readymade – as, for example, in a sticker on a museum wall, which informs visitors that the work has been removed due to restoration, that is, marking its absence.
I have always been fascinated by notions of absence and loss, whether in their emotional or political reverberations. Feelings of lack find their way to my work through the incisions made to images, which compromise their integrity while allowing dark and surreal cavities unto the surface – zones of emptiness that resonate with the erotic and psychological.
In 1911, the Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre Museum in Paris, an incidence that sparked an obsessive interest in the public, arguably giving the painting the canonical and perhaps mythical status it enjoys today. The words of the thief, Vincenzo Peruggia, can teach us something about the motive: "I stole the Mona Lisa to avoid the foolish admiration of this masterpiece by stupidly nostalgic people. Those hands are too well drawn, her eyes are not unexpected, that nose planted stupidly in the middle of her face, the flat forehead, her mouth, this monstrosity in a word ... I stole the Mona Lisa because I am a poet."
By stealing the Mona Lisa, Peruggia has turned the painting into what it is today. To me, this deed is as much an emotional theft as it is in any other respect. The position expressed by Peruggia stands for much of my personal pursuit as an artist: I force the image into becoming something else, I want to steal its identity.