I WISH THAT I WAS MADE OF STONE
The sediment of an object’s memory and its energy—these are perhaps the two most essential pillars underpinning the work of Lucia Tallová. Should we also consider vision? The ability to creatively implement both the technical and conceptual aspects of a work so that the final result is ideal? Without a doubt. But there must always be something more—an intangible quality that separates an art from good to exceptional.
In the case of Lucia Tallová, that “something” lies in her remarkable sensitivity to material, to its shape and history. She balances, with near-surgical precision, between the energy of the material and the matter she fully makes her own at the moment she integrates it into her art. Mikhail Lomonosov or Julius Robert von Mayer formulated the law of conservation of energy in physical terms. Lucia Tallová approaches energy and its transformation from an internal, more content-based perspective. The philosophy through which she understands and approaches everything, as well as the object that subsequently becomes part of the final work, stem from a fundamental state of the human mind – from elementary human humility.
This is not a simple grasp of visual poetics in a “here and now” mode – something that anyone, without deeper reflection, might conveniently label with an all-encompassing phrase like “life after life” or as a case of post-postmodern readymade syndrome. Tallová moves steadily towards a reinterpretation of objects – both their formal and conceptual potential. She carries out a kind of emotional-scientific analysis of the initial inner relations, the possibilities and qualities, and a fragmentation of the original object. Basically, it is irrelevant whether the object in question is an old photograph, a window, a piece of furniture, or a glass dome cover from the early 20th century.
Lucia Tallová’s artistic reinterpretation rests on a triad of discovery, self-justification, and the finding of a new position within the intended whole. Each of these phases is essential and irreplaceable, but it is the self-justification phase—wherein the object must defend its original identity—that is especially remarkable. Here, the object must prove its original energy is strong and autonomous enough to endure even in a new context. In essence, the object must possess quality – a category that depends not only on its material and technical condition but, above all, on its visual presence. Its new role then becomes a philosophical conclusion of the whole, the closing of a circle. However, these three phases are not fixed or academic terms in the strict sense. Like any process, they possess their own internal dynamic, which accompanies and describes – or even philosophically co-creates – the development. This is particularly true in the initial phase of discovering objects at flea markets and second-hand shops or bookstores. The artist then places the objects in her studio, where they wait—like in a sort of “interim storage”—for the moment from which their object-based experience begins to unfold further. This could be understood as a kind of archaeology – the objects are retrieved from a layer in which they had lost their function. They exist in a state of “timelessness,” not only while waiting in the studio but also during the process of their sale. Discovery, rediscovery, retrieval. A mental archaeology, the outcome of which is not conservation or distillation in the sense of being displayed in a dust-free display cabinet.
The reinterpretation of objects is often accompanied by an intervention into their original characteristics. An authorial intervention, a distinctive inventive layer, a sensitivity to composition, dynamics and rhythm. The result is something that may place the viewer in a position where the boundaries and transitions between the “found” and the purely “authorial” are no longer entirely clear. This gives rise to an ideal situation, a complex work of art. However, Lucia Tallová does not work solely with predefined material, with its properties and energy—she also creates large-scale paintings. The moment of uncertainty described above is a key connecting thread between her collages, objects, installations, and paintings. It is not about a lack of message or illegibility. It is an uncertainty in the sense of a shifting, or fluid, boundary between the abstract and the concrete, or if you will, between the apparent and the intuited. These mostly untitled paintings function as a kind of reverse or counterbalance to her non-painterly works. They are a platform on which the visual spatial dimension of her practice is philosophically reflected. Both of Lucia Tallová’s approaches speak of the same thing, although in different languages. The first does so didactically, with surgical precision, posing clear questions. The second, in balance with the first, invites the viewer to respond in the moment when they find themselves in an in-between space and feel that something is happening — something out of the ordinary. You are standing in a bubble you don’t wish to leave, because you know that it is here that you are truly communicating with art.
TELEGRAPH GALLERY
Olomouc, Czech republic
Curated by Jan Kudrna
17. July - 6. November 2025
