FISSURA, exposição coletiva, galeria da FBAUL

Encontraram uma fissura entre o tempo e o espaço… e entraram nela.

A exposição Fissura convida o público a atravessar o limiar entre a percepção e a ação, chegando a lugares onde as imagens, como fragmentos de matéria e memória, se formam. É nesse intervalo, nessa distância, que o olhar se expande, surgindo potências ocultas de espaços, corpos e ideias.

Os trabalhos reunidos aqui não buscam resolver as distâncias ou preencher os vácuos, mas sim amplificá-los, transformando-os em territórios de experimentação. Seja a partir de uma observação atenta, de uma lembrança perdida ou de uma história bem contada, podemos ver novas camadas de quem somos e de onde estamos. Entre os cantos descobertos nessa fissura, colecionam-se artefactos e recolorem-se paisagens, desafiando a sobrevivência ao revelar medos e coragens.

A seleção de obras se enreda nesses vãos e encosta no que normalmente nos escapa. Realizadas no contexto de investigações da Cultivamos Cultura, os artistas Ana Baleia, Dalila Honorato, Elisa Ferretti, Ellen Wettmore, Jorge Leal, Pavel Romaniko, Lena Ortega & Robertina Šebjanič e Mellissa Monsoon reúnem-se no pensar de novas formas de ver entre essas fissuras.

Sally Santiago

(COM)PASSOS, exposição coletiva, Biblioteca Municipal José Saramago, Odemira

com os artistas Andrea Polli, Anna Isaak-Ross, Carla Rebelo, Christina Grubber, Dalila Honorato, Elisa Ferreti, Joan Linder, Jorge Leal, Marthin Rozo, Mónica Garcia, Sofia Mordido Aires

(com) passos é uma exposição que pensa os corpos desta paisagem, esta mesma que nos rodeia e da qual fazemos parte. Não são os nossos corpos, são os corpos dos outros: o lodo que abanca nas margens do rio Mira, as canas que se alastram por qualquer vazio que encontram, as ondas sonoras do chilrear dos pássaros e do badalar do sino, a textura das pernadas dos pinheiros, as trocas constantes de matéria que acontecem debaixo dos nossos pés e até os ninhos das andorinhas. Todos eles foram aqui chamados, como testemunhos deste território.

Esta seleção de obras documenta a constante mudança da paisagem, com atenção aos diferentes planos de fragilidades que lhe fazem parte. Movidos a diferentes ventos e vontades, estes 11 artistas desenvolveram projetos de investigação na Cultivamos Cultura, dando corpo às suas próprias inquietações. Incorporaram-na através de rotinas diárias, caminhadas, movimentos, recolhas e registos experimentais que demonstram uma atenção ao pormenor e assumem perspetivas de outros corpos.

Este é um convite a três tempos: à nostalgia, para revisitarmos as peripécias que aqui nos aconteceram; à inquietação, para ponderarmos o caminho que estamos a construir em conjunto; e à presença, para sentirmos a capacidade que temos de nos transformarmos em função deste lugar, incorporando os corpos uns dos outros.

Diana Mordido Aires

Exposição coletiva  O Estado da Água com trabalhos dos artistas Eunice Artur, Iana Ferreira, Inês Teles, Joana Patrão, Jorge Leal e Thierry Ferreira.

Inaugurações 12 de Outubro

Casa Municipal da Cultura de Seia  às 14h30 

Museu Etnográfico e Forno Comunitário, Sabugueiro às 17h00

Horários

Casa Municipal da Cultura de Seia

até 29 de Novembro

segunda a sexta, 9h-17h

Museu Etnográfico e Forno Comunitário, Sabugueiro 

13 de Outubro - 10h-13h e 15h-18h

De repente em Junho de 2022 no bar Rocablanca em Madrid, entre croquetas de Cabrales y cervesas 1906, comecei a desenhar cabeças, muitas cabeças, como se nunca tivesse visto uma cabeça na vida. Todas aquelas pessoas tinham um interesse irresistível, a minha mão não parava, as páginas dos cadernos enchiam-se de linhas de um modo compulsivo. Cabeças de perfil, de frente e três quartos, cabeças semiocultas por pilares que se transformavam em máscaras, todas simplificadas e acentuadas pela velocidade dos gestos da minha mão. Essa estadia de quatro dias na capital espanhola permitiu-me iniciar a série que continuo a desenvolver nas pastelarias e restaurantes que frequento.

Sentado estrategicamente a um canto, observo da minha mesa a chegada dos clientes e avalio o seu potencial de tradução gráfica. O meu interesse pelas suas cabeças centra-se na sua infinita variedade e na informação que dão ao meu desenho. A única coisa que partilho com os meus modelos involuntários é o espaço em que por alguns minutos coincidimos e uma apreciação por comida, café e bebidas alcoólicas. Raramente interajo, não tenho nada a dizer-lhes, apenas o desenho me interessa. Algumas pessoas percebem que as estou a desenhar, embora a maioria ignore o facto. É um jogo de olhares, tentar observar quando as pessoas não estão a olhar para mim, para não ferir suscetibilidades e não tornar a minha presença incómoda. A minha furtividade nestes momentos pretende ser a mesma que aplico nas minhas saídas de campo para observar aves e odonatas.

Os desenhos que apresento correspondem a versões aumentadas e retrabalhadas das páginas dos meus cadernos, a partir de uma seleção dos mais de 150 desenhos realizados durante os últimos 15 meses. As frases escritas em alguns dos desenhos correspondem ao que escrevi no momento (uma conversa ouvida, uma ficção sobre a pessoa) ou a ideias que ocorrem no ateliê quando me recordo dos sítios onde desenhei. É um conjunto de cabeças anónimas, apenas um monte de linhas organizadas de modo a representarem uma determinada cabeça de cada vez, que contam as estórias que lhes quisermos sobrepor ou que as palavras provocarem.

Jorge Leal

Setembro, 2023

……………

Suddenly, in June 2022, in the Rocablanca bar in Madrid, entre croquetas de Cabrales y cervesas 1906, I began to draw heads, lots of heads, as if I had never seen a head in my life. All those people had an irresistible interest, my hand wouldn't stop, the pages of my sketchbooks were compulsively filled with lines. Heads in profile, from the front and three-quarters, heads half-hidden by pillars that became masks, all simplified and accentuated by the speed of my hand gestures. That four-day stay in the Spanish capital allowed me to start the series that I continue to develop in the pastry shops and restaurants I frequent.

Sitting strategically in a corner, I watch the clients arrive from my table and assess their potential for graphic translation. My interest in their heads is centered on their infinite variety and the information they give to my drawing. The only thing I share with my involuntary models is the space in which we coincide for a few minutes and an appreciation for food, coffee and alcoholic beverages. I rarely interact, I have nothing to say to them, only the drawing interests me. Some people realize that I'm drawing them, although most ignore it. It's a game of looks, trying to observe when people aren't looking at me, so as not to hurt feelings or make my presence uncomfortable. My stealth at these times is intended to be the same as that I apply on my field trips to observe birds and odonates.

The drawings I'm presenting are enlarged and reworked versions of the pages of my sketchbooks, based on a selection of more than 150 drawings made over the last 15 months. The phrases written on some of the drawings correspond to what I wrote at the time (an overheard conversation, a fiction about the person) or to ideas that occur in the studio when I remember the places where I drew. It's a set of anonymous heads, just a bunch of lines organized to represent one particular head at a time, which tell the stories that we want to superimpose on them or that the words provoke.

Jorge Leal

September 2023

DRAWING IS A LONELY PLACE

an exhibition curated by João dos Santos

My relationship with landscape has always been deep, being in the middle of it a natural state. Having carried out an artist residency, in August 2017, at LAC - Laboratório de Atividades Criativas, in Lagos, Portugal, allowed a total immersion in the environment of the Bravura Dam, and made the landscape a theme worked systematically in my work. Although the drawings made were not completely solved, this period of work was instrumental in starting an investigation that is permanently with an open end - Open Endedness -, since fortunately I have not yet found a definitive answer to the problem of landscape representation.

I keep in mind that what we call nature is far from any idea of wild or untouched, since the entire landscape through which I move is manipulated and managed. Even so, being in the middle of nature is a very intense, immersive experience that needs the mediation of drawing. I feel that my attention is activated when I am in the middle of nature, that I am more aware of my surroundings, since I am working from a certain situation and not in a familiar or neutral environment. The temperatures, sounds, and smells allow me to feel that I belong there. Sometimes I work naked to be more unprotected, to feel everything more intensely, to become part of the ecosystem. Drawing in water also allows me to promote a more immersive experience, increasing my understanding of the materiality of water and its surface rhythms. The meditative character of my drawing is based on a deep practice of anthropophagy, evidenced by the absence of human presences. Even in the drawings that represent moments of my travels on highways or urban suburbs there is a melancholy caused by the ambivalence between the convenience of the road infrastructure and the destruction of the natural territory.

The periods of formal or informal artistic residency and the walks result in a large number of drawings in sketchbooks. My curiosity is constant and my feet need unknown terrain. Part of the time spent in the landscape consists of lengthy and meditative observation, the gaze is critical and rarely distracted like that of a tourist, in search of an understanding deeper than the superficial and descriptive. The modules and rhythms of landscape formation allow the construction of a drawing on the edge of figuration that is both interpretive and diaristic.

All the fieldwork is later filtered in the studio into enlarged and materially altered versions. Reworking the drawings allows a recovery of sensory memories that are expressed through written sentences that complement the drawings, through free associations of ideas and memories recovered by looking at the notebook pages.

In nature I find traces of animal life (bones, shells, corpses) that I often collect. Some of these samples are drawn on site, others in the studio. These drawings add scale to the idea of landscape, allow the attention to be multiplied between the detail and the panoramic view. The shell of an oyster can take on the visual presence of a mountain, only the origin of the drawing distinguishes them.

The animations intend to recover sequential memories of the experience of being in the middle of the landscape. In them I explore the materiality of drawing to obtain an analog and rudimentary language to counteract the digital aesthetics where they are edited. I am interested that the animations complement and extend the time contained in the static drawings through the use of the same graphic language.

May, 2023

Jorge Leal

WALKING TO DRAW DOESN’T TIRE

Walking is deeply related to landscape drawing. The landscape rarely offers itself to the eye. It is necessary to look for it to find it. I walk a lot to be able to draw, and in this process my concentration progressively intensifies1. I repeat paths that surprise me by revealing themselves as new drawing possibilities2. The coming and going of each walk, instead of being just an inverted repetition of the route3, allows me to duplicate the observed landscape. I try to look at things as if I had never seen them. The simple change of light at different times of the day transforms my perception and the drawing contained in the landscape. I walk and look at the landscape looking for the drawing that is already there. The reality is full of drawing lines, only the contours are still confirmed to be absent4. The landscape provides me with profound experiences. The smells, sounds, and temperatures help me relate more intensely to what I see. I have to overcome the obstacle of the wind, the extreme temperatures, and the insects that bite my skin. The drawing process is holistic because it encompasses more than the simple articulation between looking and registering. Landscape is all that you see, a bend in the road or an oyster shell. The context can be rural, urban or suburban. There are no hierarchies, no differences in treatment or scale, everything is potentially interesting. All the fieldwork is developed in the various sketchbooks I carry with me. The drawings are usually quick and try to translate the rhythms of the various components of the landscape. I am interested in being as truthful as possible in my drawing so that the landscapes are recognizable in their simplified description. A good day results in an average of 15 to 20 drawings, not all of which have potential for further development. The fieldwork articulates resistance, insistence, and pleasure. It is the different configurations of the landscapes that inform me on how to draw them. The rhythms of the volumes and the textures of the surfaces indicate the movements my hand and arm should make. The construction of a landscape drawing is primarily a deep understanding of the gestures and rhythms necessary for its realization. The studio work consists mostly of refining the sketchbooks drawings from an increase in scale. I try to make them more complex and correct problems of expression of the originals. The sketchbooks drawings are made with various materials, but in the studio Chinese ink imposes itself as the unifying material of the work. Redrawing the landscapes triggers very intense memories that sometimes provoke the need to write small texts that try to fix the sensations felt at a certain moment. From the walks I bring physical samples that I draw in the studio through direct observation. Oyster shells become scale models of landscapes on the table. The way I draw does not change since I am still working processually on the theme of landscape. I walk a lot to be able to draw. It is a mentally and physically invigorating process. There is nothing more comforting than the returns with new drawings in the sketchbooks while the sun is setting and the birds are arranging themselves in the trees. Life is perfect in those moments.

CENTRO DE ARTES DE CALDAS DA RAINHA

VISITA, a Jorge Leal’s exhibition

I have been drawing in museums since I was a teenager. It is the only way I find to relate to the pieces, to understand what they are, how they were made. To the pleasure of seeing I add the pleasure of drawing, which in turn gives me the pleasure of deep knowledge and memory. The strong emotions I feel in observing are only controlled by the concentration that drawing requires of me.

Part of the goals of the artist residencies I did at the Caldas da Rainha Arts Center during 2019 was to work from its collections (António Duarte, Barata Feyo and Leopoldo de Almeida). In the following years I continued to visit the museums to deepen my knowledge about the pieces and to interrogate them graphically through countless drawings in notebooks, in what constitutes my way of working on any theme. My body moved around the sculptures in a similar way as I do with live models, accentuating the degree of kinship between these two subjects. I realized during the hours I spent inside the three museums and garden that my attention was focused on details, mostly anatomical. The supporting points of the sculptures stand out against the rest of the elements and for this reason imposed themselves as the dominant theme.

In the studio during the artist residency and later in my studio in Lisbon, the notebook drawings served as a starting point for making enlarged versions where the drawings materials do not correspond, for the most part, to the reference drawings. Many of the drawings I present are the result of successive attempts to find the right gestures and proportions for the enlarged dimensions. I do not use optical aids, magnification grids, or preparatory drawing, since I am interested in recovering the tension of the first drawing, the freshness of the fear of failure, and the graphic exuberance of hesitation.

The drawings transform the sculptures into another entity, with distinct physical and material characteristics. If many sculptures exist in a first moment as speculative drawings, my drawings interpret them and take volume and mass from them, returning them to that hypothetical initial existence.

October 2021

Jorge Leal

CONTINGERE

Ana Fonseca | Bettina Vaz Guimarães | João Távora | Jorge Leal | Liene Bosquê  Maya Weishof | Miguel Santos | Susana Anágua | Zoë Sua Kay

Curated by | Mariana Hartenthal

CONTINGERE is the Latin root for "contingency", "contact" and "contagion".

The exhibition, which brings together nine artists at Galeria Cisterna, is the result of some of the many contingencies that define our time. The works presented do not necessarily respond to the pandemic or were produced during the crisis, but in them we find themes that are now unavoidable. The contact with the skin and the body, as important as it is dangerous, is presented in the paintings by Maya Weishof and Zoë Sua Kay. The impossibility of work and the weight of absence and distance are announced by Susana Anágua's installations. Ana Fonseca's cupcakes evoke the postponement of pleasure. The house appears as both refuge and prison in the pieces by Bettina Vaz Guimarães and Liene Bosquê. In Jorge Leal's drawings we recall the longing for the open horizon of the landscape. We find nature as both cure and threat in the works of João Távora and nature, not threatened but threatened, in the photographs by Miguel Santos. More than provocations inherent to the works, these and other readings result from our contaminated gaze that projects pandemic perceptions on almost everything we see. Contingere takes this view without romanticizing the disease or diminishing the impact of the crisis.