Diana Ellinger

Artist and illustrator

Malasaña


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Relics 2016

Tangerine

Tangerine
2016, acrylic and oil on board
70 x 70cm
$650

Iron filing

Iron filing 2016, acrylic on board 20 x 20cm $250

 

 

 

 

Malasaña

Malasaña (SOLD)
2016, acrylic and oil on board
70 x 70cm
$650

The let down

The let down
2016, acrylic and oil on board
70 x 70cm
$650

Common Ivy

Common Ivy
2016, acrylic and oil on board
70 x 70cm
$650

Button hole

Button hole (SOLD)
2016, acrylic and oil on board
70 x 70cm
$650

Don’t stone wash

Don’t stone wash
2016, acrylic and oil on board
60 x 60cm
$500

Drop shadow

Drop shadow (SOLD)
2016, acrylic and oil on board
60 x 60cm
$500

Tuymans’ periphery

Tuymans’ periphery
2016, acrylic, oil and diamond
dust on board
50 x 50cm
$400

Grout

Grout (SOLD)
2016, acrylic, oil and diamond dust on board
50 x 50cm
$400

Retina

Retina
2016, acrylic and oil on board
30 x 30cm
$300

Yes, that’s my top on the floor

Yes, that’s my top on the floor
2016, acrylic and oil on board
30 x 30cm
$300

Fur

Fur
2016, acrylic and oil on board
30 x 30cm
$300

Smock

Smock (SOLD)
2016, acrylic and oil on board
30 x 30cm
$300

Bermuda

Bermuda
2016, acrylic and oil on board
30 x 30cm
$300

Tricks

Tricks
2016, acrylic and oil on board
30 x 30cm
$300

Natasha

Natasha (SOLD)
2016, acrylic on board
20 x 20cm
$250

New paintings by Diana Ellinger

There are two types of image. There are the images which you can see, and then there are images which you can bring to mind. The first type (stimulus) decays into the second (memory). Sure, you can ‘imagine’ images, but what are these made up of if not parts of memory? No, there are just two types of image: what you see, and the relics of what you have seen.

The point is, I consider my paintings to be relics. They are reproductions of images that have been kept, out of reverence, in my mind. Each work is a patchwork of small details I have collected: peripheries of old illustrations, the trailing edge of fabric, the unfocused part of a photo, a discarded plastic toy.

In these old things I find lingering promise. They give back to you a value roughly equivalent to the time taken to deliberately notice them.

But the relics of sights that you keep in your head are not aloof, timeless, pure. They are part of living thought. As with every sensation, they all get mixed together. In this case, they’ve been filtered out through the working process. The scars of their birth are there to see.

Overall surfaces or patterns are interrupted, both abruptly and subtly, by other shapes or patterns. I’m going for a sense of depth, of confrontation, a mess of memories.

Bleached, saturated, uncomfortable, just a little bit tired. The works begin deliberately, they repeat and repeat, incrementally, and end up–I hope–treading a delicate line between beauty and ugliness. Experiments in how colour, lines and shapes fall together. That they are there at all, their furry, glitched, obsolete painterly surfaces blinking in light of a contemporary existence, is absurd.

In the end each painting becomes like the small relics that inspired them. A unit of time spent and of care taken. The result of visual thoughts piling up and pushing on one another, of friction forcing outcome. Painting is a pause. A way of noticing the discarded details. A means to impart slowness.

Relics, whether discarded photos or objects behind museum glass, all whisper of worlds long past. The stories they tell are incomplete, fragmentary, and you are left to fill in the gaps. They might be relics, but don’t think of these images as ruins. They are under construction.


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Monday, Monday

Colour and surface

Some days, all that’s needed to lift my spirits are some pretty colours. Thanks Clare Grill for making my spirits soar this morning. Grill’s work though, is so much more than a few good colour combos. Clare has a pretty extensive painting toolbox at her disposal – diverse mark-making, colour sense, and a knack for piecing it all together makes her pretty handy. She’d probably do well on that Renovators show. I’m guessing she gets around with some sort of tool belt because all the tools at her disposal wouldn’t just fit in a box.

Just look at the surface of these beauties for starters. You get the sense that each has been thoroughly worked over, worn in, almost tortured, then nursed back to health again with loving hands. Colour has been added, then scraped away, then added again. Then painted over. Then added again but with a touch more acid yellow or muted pinky grey. Each and every mark has been grappled with, the occasional edge deftly left uncovered to add just the right sort of lopsidedness. This is a painter excited by the possibilities of paint and she is throwing everything at the canvas. Including the tool belt.

All images copyright Clare Grill

21_bitten 21_brittlepb 21_butcher 21_char 21_clangor 21_conepb 21_cramp 21_crystal 21_darning 21_driftwood 21_fan 21_frond 21_game 21_gens 21_glove_v2 21_idlepb 21_infanta 21_mortarpb 21_nettlepb 21_offering 21_peals 21_pearlpb 21_raven 21_stitches 21_tearpb 24_aviary 24_bleach 24_cactus 24_chord 24_cord 24_din 24_lamb 24_lumber 24_panic 24_slacks 24_spun 24_stunt


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Monday, Monday

Princess of the Riverina

Knowing Emma Beer is knowing her paintings. Each painting is a bi-product of her. Each an extraordinary pearl forged by a working process so focused, so honed, so expert and basically just completely natural. Form, colour, space, paint, matter, line – all these things are like oxygen to Emma, like making paintings is what she’s here for.

Hard-edged abstraction, the void, minimal space and line may be some of the fundamentals of her work, but these concepts are back-grounded by the surface, energy and nuance of her paintings, and they are anything but minimal. They are maximal, full of life, vibrancy and substance. Just like Emma.

You can check out her work really soon. Her show, Princess of  the Riverina opens 6pm April 2 and runs until April 9 at SEVENTH gallery, Melbourne.

PRINCESS OF THE RIVERINA
Image list: from top to bottom.

Lanterns full of dreams, 2014. acrylic and oil on canvas. 30 x 40cm.
One for the ages, 2014. acrylic and oil on canvas. 30 x 40cm.
Extracts of lustre, 2014. acrylic  and oil on canvas. 42 x 49cm.
Deceptions and light, 2014. acrylic on canvas. 50 x 60cm.
Deadly skies and lustre, 2014. acrylic and oil on canvas. 50 x 60cm.
Inventions of space and light as far as the eye can see, 2014. acrylic and oil on canvas. 60 x 70cm.
Bum fuck no where. is good, 2014. acrylic on canvas. 50 x 60cm.
Heat waves and stature, 2014. acrylic on canvas. 50 x 60cm.
Brilliance and mirage, 2014. acrylic and oil on canvas. 60 x 70cm.
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