OPENING SUNDAY JUNE 5 2022, FROM 2PM TO 6 PM

The main question driving Amir Nave's artistic research is fundamentally motivated by many approaches to elaborate one distinct thing - Is it possible to deliver something valuable from the present to eternity?

Questions about time, space, boundaries, seclusion, power relationships between people and within a person, trying to break down everything that is unequivocal, are building the framework for the main subject studied by the artist, the pain of consciousness.

In his process, Amir Nave first destroys everything that represents a value, place, morality or limit for him, until all 'life' is gone and only chaos remains. In his works, destruction tells more than construction and the struggle within his painting is connected to the relationship between emptiness and remove 'the' fullness. Emptiness being outside the realm of language can provoke creativity because it is our way of describing something that we cannot fully conceive of. The emptiness on his works also participates in focusing attention on the body and particularly on the head, the central point of his painting.

From here, the artist attempts to rebuild the world once again. There are faded landscapes, in which figures are walking, whose body is a bag of needs - allegories of the decline of the decadent human society in our time.

His figures aim to represent the desire to experience the world, for better or worse. The body is an hourglass and the attempt to confront these springs from the desire not to accept it as absolute but to define it as derived from consciousness.

Just before dawn, you had to write these few lines. As though you were summoned by cries from the future to choose the road.

Coiled around your neck, hung from your shoulders, a snake's tongue whispers in your uterine shaped ear words unknown to you, about an upcoming apocalypse.

Until then, you led your life in perfect blindness, as though buried for all those years under the desert sand, beneath history.

Now, Upon your imminent awakening, you will discover that the imaginary consolation offered to you by civilization no longer satisfies you.

In the early morning hours, you will hear those distant cries, and you will attempt to memorize this last thought that came to your mind just before you fell asleep.

Then you realize that in the last breath before falling asleep, lies a memory with an occult power; one even capable of shattering the illusionary order of our world.

Finally, you will emerge from a long sleep. Perhaps you won't exactly remember if you were a green caterpillar riding a horse, or maybe a colorful man had reflected in your face. Perhaps you will recall having heard the buzzing of a swarm of bees or seen lions and emergency exits - all calling out to you to open your eyes and awaken.

Your temples will probably be painful, and you will put your hands on your head - like those creatures who measure the world.

You will observe with breathless eyes, alone in front of it all. Reality in its fullest. And you don't know anything about the aurora or that missing memory that lurked around you throughout the night, laughing and laughing.

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What does yesterday's kindness can offer one today, if not canceling all that has happened. Not out of disdain or hatred, or rejection nor love, etc., but because of yesterday's debt to today: Remaining in itself and recognizing it's irrelevance for tomorrow. This sublime enormous gap, which passes through like a wing-clap, bound by time. Maybe several hours, maybe a few minutes. That space that separates yesterday's life from today's life is an eternity that can only be defeated by disregarding it. Like death, falling asleep only takes an instant. It is an illusive time unit which leaves us no genuine memory of itself. We can't distinguish it from the series of phenomena that preceded it. The moment that follows this breath after which we fall asleep never coincides with the one that preceded it. Between the two of them, fragile webs are being woven, a visit to other worlds, both celestial and telluric, torn by the first breath with dawn.

 And if we awaken?... Really awaken? And if we awakened, would we still be the same person? Would we awaken facing the same world?

Amir Nave