This comprehensive publication on Berlin-based Georgian artist Andro Wekua reflects on his all-encompassing, uncannily efficient, and enchantingly disturbing work. Wekua works in the ambiguous half-light of memory, fantasy, and history, offering dream-like relationships, fragmented narratives, part objects, and doubled figures as meta-fictions of a self that evades any autobiographical and historical specificity.
Three essays by Kunsthalle Zurich director Daniel Baumann, Berlin-based writer and art critic Pablo Larios, and New York MoMA's Assistant Curator in the Department of Painting and Sculpture Paulina Pobocha span his multifaceted practice that includes painting, sculpture, film, photography, artist's books, and collage. The divergent yet complementary views of the contributors are complemented by a new interview with the artist by curator Ali Subotnick.
Conceived as an artist's book, the first part of the publication acts as a collage of Wekua's current obsessions and visual universe, while the second section of illustrations provides an overview of his last ten years of art and exhibition making.
Published on the occasion of Andro Wekua's exhibition “All is Fair in Dreams and War” at the Kunsthalle Zurich, from June 9 to August 5, 2018.
Working in a diverse array of media, Andro Wekua (born 1977 in Sukhumi, Georgia, lives and works in Switzerland) has developed a visual language grounded in the exploration of human experience through the subtle intersections of individual and pooled memory, personal identity, and history. Drawing on genres such as fantasy, science-fiction, and horror, Wekua creates fantastical and often macabre tableaux, revealing the complex processes of reconstruction and fragmentation that continually inform the personal, social, and fictive experience of remembrance.
Creating pictorial representations of the past to better comprehend and grapple with the present, Wekua meditates on the tenuous boundary between historical reality and the artificial construct of remembering, pointing to the inescapable fact that the past is always distorted by the subjectivity of memory.