Who uses printed maps these days, the kind that have to be unfolded and refolded over and over again? Virtually no one. Well, actually, one person does: Imre Gábor. But he doesn’t use them for navigation; instead, he spreads them out flat — permanently — as the basis for his paintings. What can be seen on a map — as the word itself suggests — is also an image, it has meaning: at the time of printing, it shows a geographical reality.
As time passes, the image of space moves further and further away from this reality and becomes a thing of the past, a document, a fiction. This is where Imre Gábor comes in, using a variety of techniques to build on the visual memory of this former reality from his own memories and imagination, creating scenes that are everyday, stolen from reality or initiating a dialogue with reality, sometimes confusing, sometimes mysterious.
And how might the famous Shroud of Turin, the artist’s hometown, Jesus, and the body imprints of the Martinász statue be connected? We won’t reveal that here; discover it for yourself at the exhibition.
Gábor Andrási