Matti Fischer, 2006

Tel Aviv University, Department of Art History

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Aaron April previously held three major exhibitions at the Artists’ House in Jerusalem: in 1973, 1978, and 1983. The hall and the place are dear to him, and he even served as a committee member. This exhibition represents a retrospective of fifty years of his creation, which can be characterized as an attempt to realize or actualize awareness and memory in painting. Within this endeavor, the aesthetic focus is on issues of creativity – of art, self, viewer, and society.

Early Work and Influences in the Soviet Union

Aaron April’s early work in the Soviet Union was created within a political framework that saw the greatest historical attempt to achieve unity and stability in the relationship between man and his social and economic environment. Against a controlling policy that emphasized techniques (means of production) as historical facts giving rise to social, personal, and artistic forms, April used subtle irony while noting a subjectivity that differs from these “facts.” In his early work, the seeming solidity of the socialist “fact” was presented – but at the same time, it was called into question due to the achievement of the metaphysical component in man, which is always revealed as desire, and always creates alienation between him and definitive definitions or solid objects (see, for example: “On the Ob River” and “After Work”).

This tendency to see another side of human experience subsequently led Aaron April’s work towards a post-impressionist “metaphysical” approach, which viewed motivation and creativity as stemming from “spirit” or “soul,” and poetic evocation as a way to hint at this world. This approach manifested itself in the late 19th and early 20th centuries in the important artistic movement known as Symbolism. Within the development of this trend, in the work of Matisse and Munch, this approach was also directed towards the practice of creation, where the painter’s emotional response to the observed scene forms part of the creative process. In April’s work, these tendencies coexisted alongside a more objective interest in observation and in the relationships between color and light, space, and form. The origin of these issues, evident already in his work in the Soviet Union and following a visit to India, lies in Cézanne’s later work. April attempted to realize a synthesis of these different trends in his work in the Soviet Union and after his arrival in Israel.

Developing Symbolism: From Vrubel to April’s Unique Approach

In this pursuit of synthesis, April relied on and developed the work of Mikhail Vrubel. In his Symbolist subjects like the Demon, the Prophet, and the Seraph, Vrubel used a rhythm of brushstrokes that simultaneously create light, space, and form, and at the same time break them down, in order to formulate Symbolism as a mutual integration of spirit and world. In Vrubel’s works, the human form is understood as “spirit” through its frontal pose, central placement in the composition, and a certain difference between the treatment of the body and its surroundings. The environment and part of the body are treated as paste-like touches, creating shimmering surfaces that envelop the forms in an otherworldly light, while part of the figure is depicted more plastically. Thus, light and space are used both to separate and to unite and hint at a metaphysical entity.

Already in his work in the Soviet Union and in his early work in Israel, April interpreted this mystical tendency in a more earthly way (see: “Landscape Near the Wall”). This point becomes clearer in his later work in Israel and in the current album. Vrubel’s tendency to seek unity or an entity contained within the “symbol” is preserved, but increasingly it becomes clear as a tendency that cannot be actualized. But this is no cause for mourning. The effort itself, meaning the vision of the goal together with the impossibility of its realization, are now perceived as the central action of creating the self, the viewer, and culture.

This is precisely the point where April’s interpretation of Vrubel takes another step towards the reconstruction of painting. While Vrubel maintained his commitment to text and object – meaning the mimetic nature of his Symbolism takes into account that the material form is only symbolic of a mystical “entity” or a “form” with reality – April seeks to create meaning through the interplay of signifiers, meaning the pictorial material. In doing so, he does not emphasize the “spiritual” as a source for a new metaphysics, nor the “subject” and his emotions as the sole source for painting, but rather more elusive components: awareness and memory.

Awareness and memory are not new “entities” that constitute the object or meaning of the work, but rather they are an effect of the work process and the viewing process that precisely emphasizes the break with reality or with an “original” object. This reinterpretation of the Symbolist dilemma – meaning the attempt to present universal essences together with doubt about their accessibility – examines the elusive awareness and the deceptive memory through absence and lack. This lack is represented as a constant striving (Eros) embodied in “techne,” whose effect is memory and whose traces are awareness and culture. These points are evident in the paintings in several ways, which I would now like to elaborate on.

Light as a Primary Element and Metaphor

Firstly, the primary element of vision is light: in the paintings, light ceases to be a mere imitation of sunlight and serves as an opening move. Light is what strikes the viewer and causes them to open their eyes. The intensity of the light is perhaps a testament to April’s earlier experiments in translating the strong Israeli sunlight (see: “House in Jerusalem”), but now light has ceased to be mimetic and is understood as symbolic – it constitutes an effect of the interplay between the signifiers, meaning the material aspect of the pictorial sign. Thus, light acquires new functions. It can serve as a first impression that strikes the viewer and compels them to use and strain their sight, or to partially close their eyes and search the painting for clues. In other cases, the light is not so strong, but it serves as a metaphor for constant searching, for Eros (which is also a theme of some of the works, for example: “From Samson’s Adventures”) because it is never truly there; it is found in the interaction between colors and forms (see: “Meeting in Carmel” and “Memories”). Only after closing one’s eyes or after a long search can the viewer “open their eyes” – meaning, become aware.

The Stain: A Vessel of Light and Space

Another point adds to these effects and refines their formulation. The brushstroke in Vrubel’s style now becomes a stain. This point is distinct in the watercolors, and for April, it connects with the late work of El Greco. The stain is not understood now in a post-impressionist style – meaning light and space produced through hue and interaction with other brushstrokes – but rather as a stain creating a kind of vessel or capsule of light and space, a kind of self-contained island, more in the sense of a stain caused by an accidental spilling of material than a deliberate “brushstroke.” This type of stain is sometimes independent, sometimes penetrates other areas, and sometimes works in parallel with them. The stain emphasizes not the painter’s means as creators of an analogy to reality (Cézanne), nor a “subjective” approach to observing reality (Munch), nor an “other” metaphysical entity (Vrubel), but rather the necessary accumulation of signifiers, which is the condition for the possibility of using a language.

Thus, the paintings do not imitate an image but allow for an accumulation of components that arouse or stimulate memory. Memory is central at this point because it is where the dual process necessary for the creation of consciousness takes place – meaning both unity and separation. Memory is the tool without which it is impossible to unite past, present, and future into a whole and create a “self” (with a past and aspirations for the future). But by virtue of the separation that memory creates, it also enables awareness and the “subject” that rely precisely on disconnection. Without this disconnection, there is no awareness, only being and primal assimilation.

Memory as Separate, Intertwined Units

April constructs memory as separate units, as stains, that spread out opposite each other, simultaneously independent and integrated. The independence of each stain makes the accumulation of memory a time-consuming process – and thus makes it impossible as an instrument of unity. At the same time, the connections and mutual penetration of memories/stains are the only way to strive for identity. So, after the initial shock, a long process of remembering continues, in which the viewer reconstructs the painting from its collection of components and reconstructs unity and identity.

This point is produced and enabled precisely in painting because of the dual component of memory – its unconscious and accidental aspect, and its conscious and emotional aspect. The unconscious part acts within and with matter. It is not separate or prior to the materiality of the paint. It is expressed in the specific touch of the painter and his immersion in the paint. In this sense, memory is in the realm of the unconscious, as it operates on its own – randomly. It can be said that in some ways, memory remembers itself through the system of signifiers – meaning the color stains and the relationship between them, or in the relationship of dependence between technique and culture, without the conscious intervention of the artist. On the other hand, when this assimilation occurs, it takes on a conscious aspect, as memory is aroused and takes shape as an attribute of emotion. That is, memory is not disembodied or devoid of objects; the stain can take on a specific form. Thus, a kind of “emotional assimilation” is created, related both to materiality and its unconscious aspect, and to emotion and its conscious aspect. Memory is simultaneously stimulated and reconstructed through memory stains and simultaneously builds them. For the painter, the iconographic, spatial, and temporal meaning of this “techne” is the simultaneity of creation and formation embedded in the painting. For the viewer, there is attraction and suggestion by the forms of “material memory” existing in the painting, but the viewer is required to reconstruct and build this memory, which takes on a distinct form only in this reconstruction.

Personal and Collective Memory Stains: Conflict and Transformation

In April’s work, iconographically, one can see “memory stains” of both a personal and public nature. The public ones are more obvious as they are shared memories from Jewish and Western tradition. In the past, there was a stronger emphasis on erotic or pastoral scenes (see: “Lot and his Daughters A”), but recently there is a greater emphasis on struggle and conflict as a universal component of change and becoming. Perhaps this struggle is understood as a result of the erotic force, as this force of constant striving and dissatisfaction is revealed as a struggle in its liminal embodiment (meaning at the boundaries it seeks to break). Perhaps it is the emotional assimilation into the material that creates the effect of struggle due to the material’s resistance to the conscious aspect of creation. This point is evident in the depiction of the story of Lot and his daughters, in which all involved transgress an ancient taboo (see: “Lot and his Daughters B”). The stain that is Lot and the stain that is the daughter are created as a suggestion of reality by virtue of the materiality of the color and the points of contact between them. Because of the mixture of random and conscious elements in the stains, the reality of the event is replaced by the memory of its possibility, embedded in the material aspect of the pictorial language and in the conscious emotional act of evoking memory. Eros and struggle exist as qualities of color and as an accumulation of memory that these qualities enable.

Memories take on a more personal and primal aspect in the form of various animals. These animals – owls, dogs, sheep, birds, apes – are part of April’s childhood memories. They infiltrate the paintings, and sometimes seem to take them over completely (see: “Insomnia” and “Leader”). But the animals are not whole; they enter the painting as parts: eyes, a wing, a struggle. They seem to take on a double meaning – both pastoral and ominous. It is also possible that these two tendencies are linked – pastoral scenes often imply struggle and conflict. This point is evident both in classical sources like Ovid (see: “The Abduction of Europa”), and in biblical stories like Jacob and Laban (see: “Lie”).

The Pulsating Nature of Paintings: Space, Time, and Consciousness

One of the effects of “techne” in its material and narrative aspects is the sensation of pulsation and transformation in the paintings. This sensation is an effect of the interaction of different spatial and narrative/memory units. This structure creates a special relationship for the viewer with the painting: it allows entry into the painting but simultaneously blocks it. We search in vain for the ultimate pastoral, the essential unity of space and story in eternal tranquility. Instead, entry is enabled, but this is thwarted when light becomes space, space becomes an object and story, and the spatial unity of the pastoral becomes a struggle between different entities. What is created is a rejection of unity based on conventional and accepted social hierarchies. That is, the narrative is not constructed as scenes illustrating classical “unity” that presents the scene at a moment hinting at past and future and connecting the figures and moments through logical sequentiality. It is more like the Egyptian narrative where there is a tendency to abstract time as if the moment were taken out of the “logical” narrative sequence – as if it exists in an eternal present. But this present does not gain reality, as in Egyptian painting, through the conventions of culture and tradition – thus creating a static depiction – but rather evokes the possible memory of the event, and thus the mythical event in memory gains contemporary reality.

This effect results from the special capsules of time/space that create a dual effect: they merge the Egyptian-like negation of distance between observer and observed, with Western perspective – the objectification of the scene. So while recognizable components evoke memory and emotion and are objectified as “seen” (in the style of perspectival distance), they are simultaneously immersed in the viewer (in the Egyptian style), because the scene is not separated from the viewer by “observation” and does not create continuity with other known events; it dissolves with something else, or remains in its isolation within its time/space capsule.

New Memory Stains: Photography and Re-defining Symbolism

Recently, “memory stains” of a new kind have entered the paintings: these are photographs or parts of photographs. These photographs, which are indexical signs of a reality that no longer exists, add to the duality of the private and public, or the random and deliberate, in the paintings. They fit well with the overall identity of the pictorial memory stain. Precisely the fact that they are out of context aligns with them being just another memory stain. At the same time, the fact that they are distinctly contemporary allows for easier penetration into the paintings. In doing so, they bring us closer to the paintings and participate in the narrative we create from the distinct units within the painting (see, for example: “Struggle,” “Above the Fire,” “Inside the City”). They appear as just another stain, thus preventing awareness (which relies on difference and distinction), but their involvement in “our era” allows for a more personal accumulation of memory. The combination and difference between these two types of memory is the process of producing awareness.

Thus, Symbolism is given a new interpretation. Instead of hinting at metaphysical entities (spirit, soul, self) existing separately and prior to the pictorial act, the material signifier is used to gain memory, and memory is used to enable awareness. Awareness is no longer an “entity” but an effect created by fusing a language that always exists and has an unconscious and random layer (the dimension of memory present in the interplay of signifiers in the pictorial language) with emotional assimilation into the situation (see, for example: “Wedding Procession”). The interaction between these two types of memory enables both the creative process in its broad sense, and the process of arousing the viewer’s awareness.

The viewer embodied in this technology is not meant to identify the artist’s “intentions” for a specific memory. The mode of operation is rather intended to stimulate the viewer’s imagination to participate in the creative process. This imagination is now understood as a central component in Symbolist poetics, and the memory it uses is directed not only towards the mythical or personal past but towards the future. The process of dialogue and search in the painting is also the process by which the viewer constructs his identity and his awareness. Identity is built through the imagination that unites the aroused and accumulated memories into a whole, while awareness and subjectivity are built from difficulty, decomposition, and the rejection of the finality of meaning that are caused simultaneously – and evoke reflection and subversion (precisely because of the activation of the “imaginary” realm).

A more extreme formulation would argue that for the realm of the imaginary to be activated, there must be a negation of the “reality” that has been introduced into the painting and that deals with past and present memory. But the imaginary realm is not produced directly from this negated “reality,” but rather creates from the negation a horizon of possibilities – meaning a future. This horizon is not possible or accessible in itself but requires an external material catalyst, for the imaginary realm does not know what it is looking for; it knows only the search. In this sense, Aaron April’s Symbolist work acts for us as this catalyst, where fragments of memory are negated to allow the opening of the imaginary realm of the future. (See, for example: “Gloomy Times,” “About Grandfathers,” “Last Flight”).