Symona Colina
In your description of perspective as a “meeting and a clash between length, height, and width,” there seems to be a profound philosophical underpinning. Could you expound on the philosophical or theoretical frameworks that have shaped your approach to these dimensional explorations in your art?
There are principles of art, principles of perspective, and the freedom to interpret and believe.
You can easily move, erase, or change a horizon in a two-dimensional playground.
The rules of art and perspective allow for unlimited possibilities for discovery.
Colours, lines, shapes, balance, emphasis, rhythm, and rhyme are some of the words that define and combine these essential rules.
The three-dimensional playground we are on is the global society that surrounds us and the world we walk on, our beautiful planet Earth.
My paintings are like windows in a blind wall, connecting these realms of thought and seeing. It is the place where I ponder, observe, and contemplate, exploring whatever path has led me there.
The horizon takes me by the hand while I am surrounded by the world’s turmoil, discovering the essence of encounters.
Your works are described as “a song to see” and likened to “rainbow-light growing into whispered words.” How do you integrate visual, auditory, and literary cues into a cohesive sensory experience in your pieces? What challenges does this multisensory integration pose during the creative process?
Instead of trying to understand multisensory integration by analysing and dissecting a thought process, I’d rather focus on the one falling star in front of me.
I find it more enjoyable to stroll among the greens, listen to the wind whispering tales, and discover a hidden rose. As my hand delicately brushes across the petals, dewdrops glisten. Or walking on the edges, finding pebbles on the shore, hearing the sea’s song in a lost shell.
Always on my way, going around and about in a fabulous world of at least a thousand and one horizons. Where I keep, lose, and find, my balance in the shades of one another's eyes.
We are creative beings, aren’t we?
You emphasise spatial perception and contemplation in your artistic statement. Can you discuss how you design your installations or artworks to alter or enhance the viewer’s spatial perception? What role does the viewer’s presence play within the conceptual framework of your art?
The spatial perception on my behalf comes naturally to me; I don’t know any better. I was born with the ability to balance on the edges of thinking and seeing. Like a dancer on a tightrope.
I didn’t realise or recognise it at first; it took me years to fully understand.
One’s interpretations are one’s interpretations, and I realise it takes time to understand and comprehend.
Maybe we are a bit like pebbles on the shore, waiting to be found, with our interpretations drifting like autumn leaves in the wind, following their unknown way into an outstretched hand holding a pebble from the shore.
Your art reportedly navigates the intimate (“where I see the world inside of me”) and the external (“where I see the world outside of me”). How do you balance these introspective and extrospective elements to communicate universally resonant themes through your personal artistic lens?
Can I really perceive the external world if I am oblivious to the internal one? I have my doubts.
Will I ever see if I am blinded?
Equally important for spatial perception is maintaining a steady equilibrium between thought and sight. I just couldn’t pull it off.
The universally resonant themes of a butterfly’s wings would not be gentle enough to bring silence to a tornado; they would only contribute to their creation, jeopardising my equilibrium.
I wouldn’t be anywhere.
Infinity is a recurring theme in your work. In practical terms, how does this concept influence your aesthetic decisions, such as composition, scale, and the use of space within your artworks?
I hate to confess it, but the composition, scale, and use of space in practical terms are not important to me.
Infinity is right in front of me on a two-dimensional playground made of paper or canvas. Two parallels intersect on their horizon, but if I take up their crosspoint and move it behind me, I am nearly in the centre of the paper or canvas space. I feel as liberated as a bird in its ability to roam freely. Finding my peace of mind leads me through a blind wall's window.
Given your stated interfaces of art with various disciplines, could you describe a specific piece or project where interdisciplinary influences were particularly pivotal in shaping the conceptual development of the artwork?
The majority of my paintings incorporate fragments and interfaces that link to a variety of disciplines in our lives and society.
After all, interpretations remain interpretations.
Fragments are looking for chemistry to bridge the differences.
Around every corner, fragments of mathematical issues await discovery.
Fishy tales of newborn stars waiting for sunset, shattering like fragmented prisms on the ocean waves, captivate the imagination.
Fragments recall "The Divine Comedy."
We might share a smile or two, going about, around, and back again.
We would not be able to meet through my paintings if I encircled us with fences made of world-wise words.
Could you detail a specific technique you have pioneered or adapted uniquely in your art practice? What innovations are you currently exploring, especially those that might leverage new technologies or materials?
I am so sorry. I couldn’t tell...
I wandered down this lane and enjoyed the berries I discovered along the way.
Facing the sunlight and leaving the shadows behind...
All together, I have come a long way.
Picking up the brushes and pencils gave me wings to fly with.
I got really stuck with the canvas and brushes.
The oils are as soft as fresh butter, smeared on freshly baked bread, creating a crispy, tasty canvas.
The drumbeat of the brushes on the canvas satisfies my hunger to go around and about again, like a sailor in the open ocean.
I became severely stuck when I carefully handed the pencils to the paper.
Handling them gently and as slowly as a snail can run.
These slow wonders would outrun me if I were in competition.
How do you feel about the critical reception of your work, particularly when interpretations by critics or audiences diverge significantly from your intended themes? How do you manage the balance between artistic intent and audience interpretation?
Excuse me, tastes are tastes.
Interpretations are interpretations.
Yours is yours, and mine is mine.
We can walk up a lane for a while, sharing some berries along the way. Until I have to say, I have no more love to give you than the love I gave you on our way. Anyway, we go our own way in the end.
Pretending to have some artistic intent, I’d go way over the top of pretending that I‘d be anything other than just me going around and about like a sailor in the open ocean, always ready to go about... picking out of the blue a handful of berries able and willing to share.
More is not enough, but, for sure, enough is enough.
Do you believe that artists have ethical responsibilities in how they present themes or messages, especially when dealing with profound concepts like infinity or existential contemplation? How do you handle these responsibilities in your work?
The question of whether or not I am or should be responsible for my brother is a fundamental issue… We have freedom of choice, and I do care.
But I cannot hold you, my brother, accountable for my choices, nor can I allow you to lecture me about the wrongs or rights that surround us.
I have no intention of lecturing you or holding you responsible for the wrongs and rights you have not participated in in relation to me.
We aren't cavemen anymore, bashing our opponents into submission or catching Marlins to survive, are we?
I'd be like the renowned old sailor who can be destroyed but never defeated.
Know thyself, win thyself, and be thyself, my perfect banner in desperate times.
We have freedom of choice, and I do care.
We could go along for a while and spend some time together, making it as enjoyable as possible for ourselves.
Looking towards the future, what directions do you see your artistic practice taking? How do you wish your work and artistic contributions to be remembered or understood by future generations?
When I lay down the brushes, when I lay down... to wear my freshly ironed ocean blue wings... When I cross the final wall...
Will we be able to see one another from behind a blind wall? Will we remember who we are if we don’t know that by now? In data 15