Statements 6: Yigal Ozeri by Mark Moore Gallery

Mark Moore Gallery: Statements introduce a featured gallery artist through images and candid interview. From noteworthy early examples to present bodies, the works featured in Statements act as an overview of the varying practices and movements implemented by a given artist in tandem with their thoughts and interpretations. Through his hyperrealistic oil portraits of distinctive young women in lush environments, Yigal Ozeri brings an ethereal sensibility to his tableaus. With tinges of Pre-Raphaelite aesthetics, Ozeri's works engage with contemporary theories of femininity and sensuality while offering a revitalized connectivity to nature. Ozeri (born 1958, Israel) has extensively shown internationally since 1988. Solo exhibitions have included those in Munich, New York, Houston, Los Angeles, Basel, Vienna, Israel, Paris, Tel Aviv, Salzburg, Madrid, Chicago, London, San Francisco and Athens. His work is included in the permanent collections of the McNay Art Museum (TX), The Tel Aviv Museum of Art (Tel Aviv), the Albertina Museum (Vienna), the Museum of Modern Art (Haifa), the Nerman Museum (MO), the Hudson Valley Center for Contemporary Art (NY), the Kennedy Center for the Arts (D.C.) and the New York Public Library (NY), among others. Ozeri lives and works in New York, NY.

YIGAL OZERI Interviewed by: Catlin Moore, Mark Moore Gallery Director

When viewing your earlier work, your process seems informed by elements of modernism, more gestural than your current paintings. Can you elaborate on how you arrived at the style you practice now, which is oftentimes classified as "photorealist?" My earlier work related to the general art world in terms of language and code. In my early series from 1997, “Unbuilt America,” there were many architectural ideas that came to life in my paintings. After that, I created a series that was still based on the topic of architecture, but instead focused on the architecture of faceless bodies. Featuring dresses without their wearer's faces, “The Empty Dress" series exemplified the concept of the presence of absence, which generated a major shift in my work. In 2000 - after my mother died - I created a series called "Tikkun" (as in tikkun olam – meaning, “to mend the world”). Utilizing elements of trompe l’oeil, I dealt with materials that decay when the body decomposes, and with the fear of death. That series marked a turning point in my career. Shortly thereafter, I did a series called "The Last Supper," which was inspired by Leonardo da Vinci. Again, I evaluated the notion of decay through all the transformations that Leonardo da Vinci’s fresco endured. The actual da Vinci piece was continually restored for over 400 years, and that really fascinated me. This body of work was the first time I used small brushes and the first time I used photography as primary source material for my work. In my next phase, I started painting the view from my Long Island City studio. These works consisted largely of windows and pigeons, and was ultimately when the most substantial change in my work was apparent. I wasn’t focused on reacting to the art world anymore, but rather on my

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immediate surroundings. Originally, I painted by looking at the object, observing it and painting it without a secondary reference. Once I started to photograph the window and the pigeons every day for a year, I explored painting from the photographs I took. This change in practice was my first foray into photorealism. It was also the first time I was able to paint portraits. It was a very gradual process of shifting styles over a decade; it didn’t happen all at once. In many written assessments of your work, the term "Pre-Raphaelite" is typically utilized in reference to your compositions. Do you feel that's an accurate appraisal? Of course there is a connection to “Pre-Raphaelite” style; I paint women in nature. I look at the works of John Everett Millais, such as “Ophelia in the Nature,” from the 1850s and am fascinated by similar artists like Millais and Rossetti - they worked like a communion. They took the model into nature and just painted. The first piece that marked this aesthetic shift in my work featured Priscilla, a model from Maine that truly lived in the woods. I created two series, one called "Priscilla in Ecstasy," and the other called "Priscilla with Vines." The series were photographed in Maine and Costa Rica, respectively. Priscilla actually created her own performance in the natural atmosphere that I documented and it was such a unique experience for me to witness. She simply said, “Roll the camera." That was the first time my work started with video which prompted a drastic change in the energy of my work. Priscilla wasn’t a traditional model or an actress, she was an authentic person who connected with nature in ways that I didn’t think still existed in today’s digital generation. She was able to bring a genuine part of her life and her being and shared it with the world without being afraid of being judged. I didn’t have to direct her; she did what she felt she should do.

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What is your typical process when creating a new painting? Does filming your models become a critical element of the work? Photographing is an important part of my work. After I film my models interacting with the natural environment, I return to my studio and upload the footage to my computer. I take still frames from my database and use them as a painting reference. All of these images are real. They aren’t fake or altered in Photoshop, they are real images of a real girl. After I choose the images that I want to use, I start the painting process. First, I make a grid on the canvas or paper. I then project the drawing onto the grid and paint with the actual photograph on hand as an additional reference. What the camera captures is the closest to life, to one’s reality, to one’s breathing. The camera doesn’t lie. That is why it isn’t photorealism or hyperrealism; it is reality. The majority of your later works have a common thread in their mood: innocence, naiveté, wonderment and discovery. What do you look for in your models in order to evoke this? I always look for free-spirited women. I grew up in Israel in the early sixties and never got to fulfill my fantasy of being a hippie. I never lived that sort of life. I always looked at pictures of Woodstock in magazines, in which girls with long hair were unrestrained and walked barefooted. Today, in being an artist and living in New York, I get to live out my fantasy through my artwork. I found a new generation of women who live as the hippies did, called New Age Hippies. I found Priscilla this way, and I knew that I had stumbled upon something special. She evokes an independent, very open minded, very innocent presence. She didn’t have any materialistic qualities about her. She didn’t have any concept of time and lived in the moment. I didn’t have to work hard to create the gaze or the look because she simply had it.

YIGAL OZERI

Is it paramount to the work to have a female figure versus a male figure? I have painted men in the past. I did a series of works featuring Adam and Jessica in 2009. Most of the time, the men I painted weren’t the focal point of the piece - they acted as a shadow to the women. Right now, I’m still in the beginning of exploration, and I am very enraptured by what I paint. However, in the future I could incorporate other figures. Is there a particular texture or quality that you find in paper that canvas does not afford you? Paper is a material that I can control: I can remove and add sections, I can scratch it, I can peel it, I can hide inside it, I can get lost in it. I can win with paper. Conversely, canvas is a material that doesn’t let the painter get into it. The surface is hard, it rejects you and doesn’t let you control it. There are many contrasting opinions about the use of the female figure in provocative compositions. Do you find that there is a discussion as to whether or not your models are eroticized or representative of anima? How does their portrayal operate? In my opinion, my models are not eroticized. My art is very romantic; that is what I bring back to painting. Art critics often assess the narrative in my work as being feminine, as if painted by a woman. I view that as a big compliment. It’s as if I approach these girls differently, not like a man with his sexual gaze but as a part of their minds. As Carl Jung asserted, there is feminine part in the head of every man.

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What do you find to be most influential when developing a new body of work? It is always the first moment with the model in the natural atmosphere; how the model connects and interacts with the environment. Her initial timidness, slightly reluctant behavior, insecurity, embarrassment, the model’s direct gaze, her openness - sometimes the model experiences joy from her settings, and that is the most important element in my eyes.

“The camera doesn’t lie. That is why it isn’t photorealism or hyperrealism; it is reality.” – Yigal Ozeri, 2010 In this most recent body of work, "Lizzie in the Snow," you recruited model Lizzie Jagger to be your subject. How does Lizzie highlight or challenge your aesthetic? Lizzie is a special individual. We cannot forget her lineage – after all, she is the daughter of Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree - to me she represents a similar sense freedom, joy, and love that her parents did. She came to her photo shoot on one of the coldest winter days we had last year. The entire park was covered with white snow; everything was frozen. From the moment she arrived, she started to chain smoke. Smoking in nature? The staff on the set was a little confused as to why I wasn’t upset at her for taking all these “smoking breaks." Nobody understood why I kept filming. I thought it was brilliant. This was her connection to nature. That was her passion for nature; that was her joy, her relaxation. It was also a new challenge for me. She was wearing a blackish-green velvet cape, had pale skin and long hair - she looked like a vampire. The white smoke that materialized along with the wet white snow was visually invigorating for me. She smoked and smiled with great joy and that was enough for me.

YIGAL OZERI

Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 60 x 42 inches. Collection of Marisa Ho.

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Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches. Collection of Mitchell Kaminsky.

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S TAT E M E N T S

Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches

YIGAL OZERI

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Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches

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S TAT E M E N T S

Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches. Collection of Paul Schacher.

YIGAL OZERI

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Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches. Collection of Pierre Combet.

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S TAT E M E N T S

Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches. Collection of Wayne Yakes.

YIGAL OZERI

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Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 42 x 60 inches. Private Collection.

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S TAT E M E N T S

Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 60 x 42 inches

YIGAL OZERI

Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow, 2010. Oil on paper, 60 x 42 inches

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“Reminiseant of the beautiful and the ideal or as an effective antidote to everyday harshness, his portraits have a power that disarm the viewer.” – Apostolos Mitsios, Yatzer, 2009

Opposite page, left to right: Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow (Study), 2010. Oil on paper, 17 7/8 x 12 5/8 inches. Private Collection. Untitled; Lizzie in the Snow (Study), 2010. Oil on paper, 17 7/8 x 12 5/8 inches.

YIGAL OZERI

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