On the occasion of his first London exhibition, at David Zwirner, Lucas Arruda discusses his almost pathological pursuit of a particular theme, revealing the macro within the micro, and how his imaginary landscapes are states of mind suspended in paint.
The quietly charged paintings of Lucas Arruda (b1983, São Paulo) are testament to the force of working ritualistically on a recurring theme, in this case the idea of landscape as constructed in the mind’s eye. Most of the continuing Deserto-Modelo series alludes to a horizon line suggesting natural scenery, ineffable seascapes and more particularised jungle scenes. Others are pure monochromes, surface accumulations of paint bordered by raw canvas, with no discernible features. Suspended between reverie and the tactile assertion of paint, the sheer craft of these small paintings is remarkable and should be seen in person if possible.
Behind a velvet curtain is a haunting slide projection of Arruda’s images, fluctuating between total darkness and light, with particular attention to the elusive threshold, entre chien et loup, between day and night.
Angeria Rigamonti di Cutò: Can we start with your artistic beginnings and how you came to painting? I’d imagine that painting would have been an unconventional choice at the time you studied?
Lucas Arruda: It was a time when painting was not welcome. By the time I got to art school, I had already been painting daily since childhood. I was quite a hyperactive child, so my parents enrolled me in an art school for children where I experimented with different media. By the time I got to college, I was already on a path towards painting, which was unusual in that context. I was part of a generation in Brazil that reclaimed painting in around 2005, almost as a statement, as if to say: why not painting? Read more