A Circle a Square a Day
Camilia Filipov lives a pristine life, in-between her 10 sqm living room and a 15 sqm studio space. She mostly communicates non-verbally. She’s perfecting the craft of reading minds. She downloads ideas from the clouds. She’s a receptacle and a wireless transmitter, ‘some-thing’ that mediates between Art and its materialization. Art, for Camilia Filipov, is a way of life, the triumph of mind over aesthetics and of time over matter.
Think of On Kawara, methodically repeating the same activity over decades, with as little emotional input as possible, then move on, as this applies only partially to Filipov’s modus operandi. In her case, repetition is neither meant to document the artist’s ongoing existence, nor to prove the fact that the artist is still alive – repetition, here, is a method of learning, of memorizing form, of perfecting artistic routine, of pursuing truth. Better think of the Japanese tea ceremony's motto “ichi-go ichi-e”, which means “one time, one encounter” (even though all the intricate movements of the tea ceremony are prescribed by tradition, they are never the same).
Camilia Filipov is tearing paper into circles and squares on a daily basis (she already does this for some time and will most probably turn the practice into a lifetime ritual). By using only her fingertips to ‘draw-out’ geometric shapes, bypassing the traditional drawing tool, her own body gets inscribed into the final piece. This ongoing series of paper-works ‘performed’ by hand becomes a pluri-metaphor for counting time, for turning outlines into sculptures, for “L'uomo vitruviano” and the reading of human proportions through geometry… an almost silent ode to primary geometric shapes.
A large series of white paper-works (created over the course of 6 months preceding Liste) will blend into a wall-installation - simple and monumental at the same time - which speaks about meditative consistency and formal purity. Moreover, about the ineffable.