Carol Marine: Bulby Dots

The artist plays with colors -- the pink hides behind the blue and the white, winking occasionally at the individual viewer -- provoking a hide and seek game between the audience and the dots. The game progresses, transforming into a kind of a dialogue between the artist and her audience: she hides the paint, and they seek, as the rules become reversed, when many look for a single meaning. Every painting may be viewed as a pictorial transposition of this game, but it is here that the comparison becomes particularly obvious and relevant. This piece becomes a communicative junction between the artist and the audience -- an object that unites and connects the two parties, similarly to the home base in the game.

However, while playing, one tries to outdo the other. When the seeker and the hider arrive to home base simultaneously (I am only familiar with the variant where the former must touch home base after finding the latter), a conflict ensues. Here, on the other hand, both openly steer towards the destination of understanding. An undesirable situation in the game, it is desirable in art -- the rules, once more, become reversed. Still, the common feature of fun remains intact, though I assume that while viewing a painting it can evolve into something more sophisticated. Fun here turns into subtle humor, carefully orchestrated by the painter's brush.

The colors of these bulbs may not seem so exotic if we consider the taste of garlic. The toxic, mischievous pink wonderfully correlates with the bitter taste. Occasional spots that peep out may be warning about the overuse of this vegetable, reminding to put small amounts -- a painterly culinary guide. I think that the polka dots can also imply on garlic's true nature: a leopard cannot change its spots; garlic, even when consumed in small cooked amounts, may cause a foul breath. There is only one way to avoid it: if everybody eats garlic, nobody will notice it. Possibly, garlic is the most democratic of all vegetables. Viva!..

Mick McGinty: Sliced Tomato

This is a sinister painting. Being all cut up and bleeding, that tomato somehow conjures up the cinematic horror genre. The cavities filled with juice echo the cut pumpkins during Halloween celebration. The green leaves also look menacing, like a Gorgon, or perhaps a spider, an octopus or simply a mutated feral chicken's foot. They appear moving, in a grabbing motion. The fact that the leaves were not removed prompts to question for the reason, because usually, all green parts are disposed of before the slicing begins. Why not here? Maybe, because the purpose of this tomato is not to be eaten; possibly the cutter needs the seeds, or the juice. The seeds, in turn, could be used for something other than planting (if this is the way to harvest seeds at all -- I have to admit my total ignorance in this sphere). Keeping with the mysterious spirit, I tend to think in the direction of one of Sir Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories -- "The Five Orange Pips." In any case, the impracticality of such slicing makes it a symbolical act, and perhaps demonstrates a certain ritual.

The darker tones of the table further reinforce these generic impressions; as do the cuts, in the form of an X and prison cell bars. The colors appear to shimmer and constantly modulate. The gritty orange alternates with cold diluted blue, gray, black and white. The bright red of the vegetable clashes with such an "unhealthy" combination, in a way in which a sickly ruddiness flushes the ghastly face of a tubercular patient. There is something sardonic about this painting: it is, after all, only a vegetable -- but I can't shake off the feeling of lurking violence, and threat.

The composition of two tomato halves creates a mirroring balance, which, however, is disturbed by their placement on the higher part of the canvas. This is an intentional instability: as a result, the two parts appear to fall, or roll down; instability, which leads to uncertainty, emotional shakiness and eventually fear. Additionally, the artist avoids the acceptable norm of the genre. Instead of depicting whole vegetables, he chooses to deviate and break the pattern, exploring a different approach. And, by slicing up the routine subject, he parodies the norm. This piece may inspire a lugubrious mood but, it does it with such style, as to make me embrace it with a smile.