In Conversation with Aviv Benn
Hi Aviv! When we first connected on Instagram you told me that you had just moved to London. Before you lived in Chicago where you graduated with your MFA from The School of Art Institute Chicago in 2018. It was during the pandemic where you decided to move to the UK. What are you seeking in London that you couldn’t find in Chicago, and how does the change of location impact your work?
The School of the Art Institute Chicago is a huge school, with many talented artists and art historians, past and present. There is a strong sense of community that characterizes the art scene in Chicago, which I truly appreciate, since it’s so rare to find. However, thinking of future opportunities and where I can grow as an artist, I realized it would make more sense to work within the context of a larger art scene.
During the pandemic and the lockdown at the beginning of 2020, I had some time to reflect on my next steps; I was missing my family in Tel-Aviv, and wanted to move somewhere closer to Israel with a rich and robust art scene.
When I moved to London, it was during one of the harshest lockdowns the city had known. I couldn’t go to museums or galleries or familiarize myself with the local scene, so I decided to utilize that time to reflect on my work and try to dig a little deeper.
The art world is usually a very social space, however, without any openings to attend or shows to check out, I tried to view my first few months in the city as a “lockdown-inflicted” residency program. I would wake up and go to the studio, get home and do some pilates so I wouldn’t go crazy, make dinner and go back the next day. It was a very meditative time with not a lot of outside stimuli, which allowed me to slow down my process and develop my practice in a way that wouldn’t happen if the city was bustling. There is something positive about having zero FOMO, which allows you to just paint and establish new directions for the work to grow.
Hearts of Those Who Pierced Time's Core, 2021, Oil, spray paint and oil pastels on canvas, 65x65 cm (25.5x25.5 inches)
When I look at your new series of work it is clear there is a shift in your work. Beforehand, you depicted amorphous, abstracted figures as motifs mirroring social anxiety. Those figures merged with their surroundings, but now it seems you pushed things further, and the figures are even more submerged into the pictorial space and you can’t differ the figure from the background, can you please elaborate on that?
Yes, that’s a really great observation. In my previous series, the focus was on the individual figure and its relationship with its surroundings. I was thinking about this sense of uncertainty and dread we all feel that fluctuates from the personal to the public and vice versa. So it was more about the relationship of the individual with the world, and the osmosis between personal and public trauma and how it affects the singular figure in the painting, which is a mirror of us, essentially.
This new series was influenced by “The Information Theory of Individuality”, it is a brilliant article, that affected me profoundly. It breaks down the notion of what makes an “individual”, can one be composed of many? What makes something whole? Can complicated systems made of unique stand-alone parts be thought of as one thing? From social media platforms or just reflecting on how the world is right now, it’s kinda hard to say where “I” end and “you” begin.
That’s why the figures in the work become more and more entangled within the pictorial space and dissolve into it. I think we constantly seek certainty, that’s just how our brains are wired. So I like the idea of giving some sense of order and familiarity in the work, with hints of figures as something familiar-looking you can hold on to, but it’s just an illusion.
If I removed the eyes in the paintings, for instance, you are left with a faceless blob of paint. So that sense of order disappears just like the figure does. I really like ambiguity. That is why I like to leave my work open-ended and let the viewers bring their own narratives and fears into the work. So it can be an elusive and trippy space but also a safe place for reflection and being friendly with your inner demons.
Tricks of Radiance Miracles, 2021, Oil, spray paint and oil pastels on canvas, 122x122 cm (48x48 inches)
In your recent work, there are a lot of symbols that go back to ancient history, Eastern and Western cultures, such as the snake, eyes, flowers, hands and more. Can you comment on that?
The appearance of certain symbols is kind of intuitive. When I start a new series I tend to begin with some works on paper and certain symbols just start appearing in the work and those, later on, make cameos in the paintings. I know each symbol holds a lot of meaning and has a very rich history in different cultures. Going back to my previous answer, I like that people can inject their own story into these symbols based on their personal history and experiences. It’s like trying to decipher the meaning of a dream, in a way: “a snake appeared in my dream last night”- is it an omen or a fortunate sign? Who knows. The repetition of symbols across many canvases allows me to create a narrative that stretches beyond one canvas so a relationship develops not just between the figure or symbol and its surroundings in the painting, but also between paintings. Like a series with recurring actors in all kinds of situations.
I Wear the Present Itch for Flesh, 2021, Oil, spray paint and oil pastels on canvas, 75x75 cm (30x30 inches)
What's your process when you are creating your works?
When I make work it’s usually in batches. I prepare a bunch of canvases and they are all treated the same. Recently, I switched from distemper (pigment and binder) to oil ground, which I really enjoy. I usually start with a colorful abstract under-painting, since I struggle to start painting with a completely blank canvas. I start recognizing certain shapes and those are defined into the figures and inform the composition of the painting.
It is an intuitive process, I never really know what a painting will look like when I start it, sometimes I have a vision, but usually I sit in the studio and stare at the painting and wait for it to give me the answers of how to resolve it. A painting is done when I can no longer add anything to make it more interesting but still leave some room to let it breathe.
Not Haste Into A Landscape, 2021, Oil, spray paint and oil pastels on canvas, 67x67 cm (26x26 inches)
What’s your source of inspiration?
My biggest source of inspiration is the work of other painters. I love painting so much it can make me cry! During the lockdown this year, I struggled since I couldn’t go to the museum to look at work, so I spent my time reading. I come from a family of writers, so words are also a big inspiration for me. Poetry definitely has a huge influence on my work, I like reading and meditating on the words and those inform a kind of state of mind that is later reflected in the work.
However, my first love is painting. I truly adore gutsy painters who push the medium forward. I think painting, more than any other medium, calls for a “standing on the shoulders of giants” approach, and as a painter, you are always in conversation with other painters that preceded you.
If You Close The Door, The Night Could Last Forever, 2021, Oil and oil pastels on canvas, 76x76 cm (30x30 inches)
Would you like to tell us about your upcoming projects?
Yes! I am excited to share I will be participating with ada gallery at Future Fair which will take place in NYC, September 09 - 12, 2021. I am really looking forward to it, and so grateful we can experience art in person once again, I definitely missed it a lot!
For inquiries about the works or any other questions, please send an email to sabrina@sabrinaandres.com.
