The style of Károly Elekes – from his early compositions through land-art actions to conceptual works – is fundamentally rooted in the neo-avant-garde. His recent ‘tunning-paintings’, characterised by irony and a critical stance towards society and art, and presenting a surreal visual world, prompt unexpected chains of association.
His first exhibition took place in 1971 in the foyer of Stúdió Theatre, where, under the title Elképzelt tájak (Imaginary Landscapes), he displayed thirty-six oil paintings.
Regarding the formal language of his prints (etchings and lithographs), Elekes has remarked that they are characterised by an impassioned–expressive mode of articulation. During his college years, the works of Velickovic, Soulages, Bacon, and Hartung had a considerable impact on him. After graduating, he shifted from printmaking to producing unique series, because “the world of gestures seemed more authentic, more sincere, for these reflect an emotional state corresponding to the moment of the work’s creation. If, however, such a gesture can be reproduced at any time, then in its repetition it can only reflect a former emotional state, not the moment in which the print is actually made [1].” His series Ajándék (Gift) and Kapcsolat (Connection) date from this period; their essence lies in involving the viewer in the narratives of artworks rooted in his own experiences.
After completing his studies, he moved to Bucharest in 1975 – the Romanian capital proved highly conducive to the development of his art. There, he joined the group Atelier 35, participating in several of its exhibitions and actions. The Marosvásárhely Workshop (MAMŰ) [Marosvásárhelyi Műhely – Hungarian art group in Transylvania] emerged in the late 1970s as the spiritual heir of the Apolló Circle. Its members usually met for joint exhibitions. The group’s programme exhibitions were initially held in the Apolló Gallery, later in the foyer of the Stúdió Theatre. In 1982, severe cultural-political pressure rendered their official exhibitions impossible, forcing their actions into the open, into nature. Through the practice of mail art – which Elekes encountered via Ioan Bunus – these actions were communicated under the title Transylvanian Mysticart.
It was during this period that he created his conceptual work Tömb (Block), which embedded various documents in concrete; instead of the earlier gesture of radical self-exposure, its essence was concealment.
His installation Emlékraktár (Memory Warehouse) was featured in the exhibition Medium 81 in Sfântu Gheorghe (Sepsiszentgyörgy). For this work, he arranged 365 photographs in a grid; the viewer could take one away but had to mark it in an accompanying album containing reproductions of the photos, each accompanied by an explanation of why that particular image was chosen. Through this process, “a layering of thoughts and a reclassification of memories occurred [2].”
In Budapest, he initially continued painting oil works and later exhibited his drawing series Másolat eredetiről (Copy from Original) at the Young Artists’ Club (Fiatal Művészek Klubja). His 1986 retrospective at Stúdió Gallery showcased his epoch-opening installation Lírai építkezés (Lyrical Construction). This was followed by works such as Tűzhely (Hearth), Függőtűz (Hanging Fire), Kalangya (Sheaf), Tivornya (Revelry), and Imola (Knapweeds), all of which are closely tied to his childhood and native region.
In the early 1990s, together with Árpád Nagy and Sándor Krizbai, he founded the Pantenon group. At this time, he created works such as Panteon–Pantenon, Trans-Sylvan, Alvó pásztor (Sleeping Shepherd), Nárcisz kertje (Narcissus’s Garden), and the spatial installation Lhásza (Lhasa). During the 1990s, he contributed, alongside the visual artist Péter Stefanovits and architect Anthony Gall, to the artistic programmes of two Transylvanian churches: the church in Șiclod (Siklód) (1991–1994), and the St Christopher Chapel at Red Lake (Gyilkos-tó) (1999–2001). During this period, “instead of – or alongside – natural images imbued with sacred content, he became increasingly preoccupied with the ‘requisite-problem’: by reworking objects belonging to a disappearing world, he created so-called ‘meditation objects’. These forms are removed from their original contexts and often combined with certain constant elements (emergency lamp, Persian carpet, plaster bandage). The result is a set of suggestive, dark-toned, contemplative objects and site-specific installations. (Examples include Könnyező (Weeping), Eleven hal (Living Fish), Fájdalom I–II. (Pain I–II).) [3]”
The Lhasa series marked the beginning of the period in which, similarly to Duchamp, he incorporated ready-made, often industrial or mass-produced objects into his art, thereby creating new works, ‘expressive objects’ [4].
He concluded his series of site-specific works with the 2002 installation Dracula Era.
During a study trip to Italy in 1987, the abundance of artworks in the Palazzo Pitti collection in Florence made him aware of the unstoppable ‘over-proliferation’ of artworks. Yet several years passed before the idea of ‘tunning’ crystallised: the creation of new artworks through the reinterpretation of found (or purchased) dilettante and/or kitsch compositions. “Objects, creations, artefacts labelled as works of art are amassing on our globe in such quantities, and are devaluing at such a pace, that the very legitimacy of ‘production’ is called into question [5].” According to Elekes, the overproduction of artworks forces us to place this ‘intellectual waste’ [6] in museums or storage depots. Unlike several tendencies of the 1970s – installation, land art, happening, and performance – contemporary material-based trends continue to place an increasing burden on museum collections. János Sturcz, in his essay Szkeptikus konceptualitás (Sceptical Conceptuality) [7], notes that Elekes “– presumably as a consequence of all this – temporarily suspended his independent artistic practice, and focused exclusively on the reinterpretation of found images, repairing and ‘tunning’ existing works made by others. In this way, albeit with compromise, he can continue to create without increasing the already excessive number of artefacts, and can contribute to the discourse surrounding artistic overproduction.”
The concept of the tunning method arose on New Year’s Eve 2003, when he restored a discarded oil painting. A tear in the centre compelled him to ‘intervene’ in the composition: he painted oars over the damaged part, integrating them into the picture. The work was titled Fércelt naplemente (Patched Sunset).
Elekes is fully aware that this method raises ethical questions: “Can an individual artwork be created from anonymous cultural debris, one that receives a new title and a new author? From what standpoint may I claim the right to transform existing, unsigned – or even signed – images?” he asks, then immediately answers: “I protect myself by arbitrarily appointing myself, with a nod to the avant-garde, as a rearguard, someone who updates and rescues a torn, doomed painting.”
According to Sturcz, Elekes’s art does not belong to the category of appropriation art. He cites Jeff Koons and Haim Steinbach as examples of the opposite: they use kitsch as a jibe at snobbery, whereas Elekes repairs works that are damaged or low in quality; his approach is therefore ‘profoundly empathetic’.
Most tunning works are landscapes, such as Vízmérce (Water Gauge, 2003) and Létra (Ladder). Together with the 2004 composition A kép mérete (The Size of the Picture), these paintings feature enlarged measuring instruments. Sturcz traces this motif to Marcel Duchamp’s 3 Standard Stoppages, one of the earliest works to address the modern loss – and illusoriness – of measures. Beneath Elekes’s ironic conceptualism and object-scepticism, one senses the playful–mocking spirit of Duchamp, who himself once painted into a reproduction of a winter landscape, thus granting it new meaning.
Elekes’ brushstrokes and minimalist overpaintings generally adapt to, and merge with, the original compositions, while his new motifs reinterpret their meanings. Certain elements recur across tunning works – for instance, on the metaphysical Tizennyolc piros alma (Eighteen Red Apples) – and he often highlights features with primary colours: red in Vérző táj (Bleeding Landscape), in the crimson blaze of Veszélyes övezet (Danger Zone), or on Freud (2013); green in Új pásztor (New Shepherd) and Ábránd (Reverie); blue in Fontos ikon (Important Icon) and Elmélkedő (Meditator); or combined in Ismeretlen Mondrian (Unknown Mondrian), A tavasz méltatása (In Praise of Spring), and Közel és távol (Near and Far).
He frequently employs reflections and symmetrical elements (Részleges szimmetria [Partial Symmetry]; Gerber házai [Gerber’s Houses]; Ábránd [Reverie]), and the use of human figures is notably reduced. Various signs also appear, such as in the triptych Glóriák (Halos), which features the channel symbols of Hungarian Television (Magyar Televízió).
Some works display rows of floating objects resembling friezes – stones, for instance, in Halásztanya (Fishing Hut) or Rolling Stones) – evoking Magritte.
Felújított turisztikai jelek (Restored Tourist Signs) holds up a distorted mirror to today’s information overload. Az út kezdete (The Beginning of the Road) and Pepita (Chequered) suggest “dogmatic narrow-mindedness, violence, and insensitivity towards nature [8],” while Nyugati útvonal (Western Route) and Útjelzés (Signpost) hint at the illusoriness of direction and hierarchy. A vitorlás a Boszporuszon (The Sailboat on the Bosphorus) conveys disorientation and rootlessness, likely alluding to a contemporary political anachronism. Several of his tunning works revolve around the representation of water: Klasszikus táj (Classical Landscape, 2003), or Aqua, whose prototype is Böcklin’s Isle of the Dead from the 1880s. Tautologikus elem (Tautological Element) and Vanitas depict skulls, symbols of transience. Vision-like motifs appear in works such as Délibáb (Mirage), which shows the Cathedral of Our Lady of Hungary (Nagyboldogasszony Templom) in Szeged alongside its inverted reflection. Christian symbols appear in several of his works (Imánk [Our Prayer], 2005; Racionális áhítat [Rational Devotion], 2006). Among these ‘visionary paintings’, Sturcz considers the most striking to be Egyedül a jellel (Alone with the Sign), reminiscent of Caspar David Friedrich. In its winter landscape, Elekes painted a solitary figure and, in the frozen lake, a large cross-shaped opening in the ice.
Although Elekes’s creative periods are sharply demarcated, his art remains “deliberately constructed, cohesive, yet an emotional cascade of rainbow-like richness – despite, or alongside, the most restrained, most calculated, and most deliberate conceptuality. The desire to create cosmic equilibrium from contradictory qualities and to preserve personal integrity and artistic identity has always preoccupied me on different levels and in different ways. For everything carries its own opposite within itself; there is no light without shadow, no avant-garde attitude without a ‘rearguard’ position” – as he declared in his induction speech.
He plans to continue his tunning series until 2018, attributing special significance to the number eighteen.
[2016]
[1] From his induction speech at the Hungarian Academy of Arts.
[2] Bálint Chikán: Médium. Képzőművészeti kiállítás Sepsiszentgyörgyön. (Medium. Fine arts exhibition in Sfântu Gheorghe [Sepsiszentgyörgy].) Jelenkor, 1983/1, p. 84.
[3] Orsolya Merhán – http://www.varad.ro/node/1555
[4] Gábor Attalai: A Pantenonról másodjára. (About Pantenon for the second time.) Új Művészet, 93/11.
[5] Fragment from the induction speech.
[6] From Stanisław Lem’s Summa Technologiae (1964).
[7] János Sturcz: Szkeptikus konceptualitás. Elekes Károly ‘tunning’ képeiről. (Sceptical conceptuality. On Károly Elekes’s ‘tuning’ images.) TUNNING (catalogue), Dorottya Gallery, Budapest, 2006.
[8] From János Sturcz’s study.