Paolo_Venti

     An encounter with a remote culture is less difficult when it occurs in a dimension of total otherness, when it does not involve us directly. But the real strength of such an encounter is when we realize there is something of ourselves in our counterpart, when we are provoked, overtaken, imitated in our most peculiar icons, so that we turn out different from what we really are. For this reason, I think, Ilze Jaunberga’s exhibition can be an effective metaphor of the way we approach the Baltic world and, at the same time, of that world’s entrance into Europe.      The series of paintings that Jaunberga offers us are the result of her very personal journey through the most classical Italian painting and some of the great Masters that have acquired, for us Italians, an aura of solemnity, almost of sacredness. At the very beginning, the different approach is puzzling: Leonardo, Giotto, Raffaello, Botticelli’s great paintings are re-proposed in a personal re-working which systematically replaces the original figures of Madonnas and Saints with aseptic dummies, bald-headed dolls devoid of recognizable personal characteristics, unisex beings. Stylized and very modern elements work their way into classical contexts, a plastic face replaces the smooth-long-haired Renaissance maidens. The contrast is deliberately clashing. Rich clothes and precious brocade gowns meticulously reproduced surround a sort of expressionless face/skull; past and present are ruthlessly matched.
     Certainly, it is not a wholly unprecedented operation if you consider the works of Dalì and Botero, for example; but Jaunberga’s paintings are amazing for the freshness of her approach, half way between the homage to the old masters and a free and easy usage of the models, with solutions that follow a personal and quite recognizable style.
     We sense that the relationship with Leonardo and the other artists goes along natural lines, revealing a never-interrupted bond. There is a symbiosis of art language which gets over the screeching anachronism, almost the discovery of a shared common grammar which does not look academic but which, perhaps, runs through unknown underground channels, through centuries of history and distance, to prove that the Baltic countries have never ceased to be part of Europe.
     In the separation marked out by history, Baltic culture has followed a path of its own, looking as far as possible at the experimentations beyond the Iron Curtain, but experiencing independently its own ways.
     Nowadays the talk can start again more directly, with the vitality which is characteristic of "young" nations, free from paralysing subjections, willing to follow and enhance the lines of our modern age, made of plastic and consumerism, to get to the point where everyday contradictions and anxieties come to the surface.
     The problem is ours, then, since we are required to accept a fruitful challenge, which sometimes can be destabilizing, and since we are obliged to look at ourselves in a mirror which enlarges the political, economic and, obviously, artistic horizons of our Europe. (From Il Momento, february 2005 Pordenone)

PAOLO VENTI (Pordenone)	© Ilze Jaunberga 2008 HOME - INDIETRO
"D’APRÈS GRANDI MAESTRI"
"Il Rinascimento italiano di Ilze Jaunberga"

L’incontro con una cultura lontana è meno difficile, forse, quando avviene nella dimensione della totale alterità, quando non ci mette direttamente in gioco. Ma la vera forza di un incontro è quando nell’altro riconosciamo qualcosa di noi, quando l’altro ci provoca, gioca a scavalcarci, ci ruba le nostre icone più specifiche e in esso ci specchiamo diversi. Per questo, credo, la mostra di Ilze Jaunberga può essere un’efficace metafora del nostro avvicinnarsi al mondo baltico, dell’ingresso di quel mondo in Europa. Questa pittrice ci propone in una serie di dipinti il risultato di un suo personalissimo percorso attraverso la pittura italiana più classica, attraverso alcuni grandi Maestri che per noi hanno assunto un’aura di solennità e quasi di sacralità. L’approccio diverso, a tutta prima è perfino sconcertante: i grandi dipinti di Leonardo, Giotto, Raffaello, Botticelli ci sono riproposti in una personale rielaborazione che sostituisce sistematicamente le figure originali di Madonne e Santi con asettici manichini, bambole calve prive di connotati riconoscibili, unisex. Un elemento stilizzato e modernissimo fa da intruso in un contesto classico, un viso di plastica da vetrina sostituisce le fanciulle del Rinascimento dai lunghi capelli lisci. Il contrasto è volutamente stridente: vesti ricche, broccati preziosi e riprodotti con puntiglio dall’originale, circondano un volto-teschio inespressivo, passato e presente sono accostati senza pietà. Non è un’operazione del tutto inedita, certo, (si pensi a Dalì e Botero, per es.), ma stupisce nei dipinti della Jaunberga la freschezza di un approccio a metà fra l’omaggio ai Maestri e un uso disinvolto dei modelli, con soluzioni che ormai seguono uno stile personale e riconoscibilissimo. Vi è la sensazione che il rispetto con Leonardo e gli altri percorra linee naturali, riveli un legame mai interrotto. Vi è una simbiosi di linguaggi che supera lo stridore dell’anacronismo, quasi la riscoperta di una grammatica comune sempre posseduta, che non sa di Accademia, ma forse percorre canali sotterranei ignoti, attraverso secoli di storia e di distanza, a dimostrare che i Paesi Baltici di fatto non hanno mai smesso di essere Europa. Nella separazione che la storia ha tracciato, la cultura baltica ha continuato un suo percorso guardando come poteva alle sperimentazioni di oltre cortina, sperimentando in forma indipendente. Ora il discorso si riannoda in modo più diretto, con quel vitalismo che caratterizza le nazioni “giovani”, senza paralizzanti soggezioni, ma piuttosto con la voglia di seguire ed esaltare le linee di una modernità fatta di plastiche e di consumismo, fino a far emergere le contraddizioni e le angosce del quotidiano. Il problema è nostro, eventualmente, chiamati come siamo ad accettare un confronto fertilissimo, ma a tratti destabilizzante, a guardarci in uno specchio che allarga le maglie della nostra Europa, in senso politico, economico e, ovviamente, artistico. (da “Il Momento”, febbraio 2005 Pordenone)

An encounter with a remote culture is less difficult when it occurs in a dimension of total otherness, when it does not involve us directly. But the real strength of such an encounter is when we realize there is something of ourselves in our counterpart, when we are provoked, overtaken, imitated in our most peculiar icons, so that we turn out different from what we really are. For this reason, I think, Ilze Jaunberga’s exhibition can be an effective metaphor of the way we approach the Baltic world and, at the same time, of that world’s entrance into Europe. The series of paintings that Jaunberga offers us are the result of her very personal journey through the most classical Italian painting and some of the great Masters that have acquired, for us Italians, an aura of solemnity, almost of sacredness. At the very beginning, the different approach is puzzling: Leonardo, Giotto, Raffaello, Botticelli’s great paintings are re-proposed in a personal re-working which systematically replaces the original figures of Madonnas and Saints with aseptic dummies, bald-headed dolls devoid of recognizable personal characteristics, unisex beings. Stylized and very modern elements work their way into classical contexts, a plastic face replaces the smooth-long-haired Renaissance maidens. The contrast is deliberately clashing. Rich clothes and precious brocade gowns meticulously reproduced surround a sort of expressionless face/skull; past and present are ruthlessly matched. Certainly, it is not a wholly unprecedented operation if you consider the works of Dalì and Botero, for example; but Jaunberga’s paintings are amazing for the freshness of her approach, half way between the homage to the old masters and a free and easy usage of the models, with solutions that follow a personal and quite recognizable style. We sense that the relationship with Leonardo and the other artists goes along natural lines, revealing a never-interrupted bond. There is a symbiosis of art language which gets over the screeching anachronism, almost the discovery of a shared common grammar which does not look academic but which, perhaps, runs through unknown underground channels, through centuries of history and distance, to prove that the Baltic countries have never ceased to be part of Europe. In the separation marked out by history, Baltic culture has followed a path of its own, looking as far as possible at the experimentations beyond the Iron Curtain, but experiencing independently its own ways. Nowadays the talk can start again more directly, with the vitality which is characteristic of "young" nations, free from paralysing subjections, willing to follow and enhance the lines of our modern age, made of plastic and consumerism, to get to the point where everyday contradictions and anxieties come to the surface. The problem is ours, then, since we are required to accept a fruitful challenge, which sometimes can be destabilizing, and since we are obliged to look at ourselves in a mirror which enlarges the political, economic and, obviously, artistic horizons of our Europe. (From Il Momento, february 2005 Pordenone)