Sans titre

LOGOVARDA's creation - contrary to the summary impression - proceeds from balance, not excess. The forces of chaos in these canvases, however violent, counterbalance each other and their motionlessness is the secret of the almost reassuring beauty of his nightmares.

 The frenzy of her production makes one think of art brut. She has the rhythm, the ritornellos, the obsessions, the automatisms. She deviates from it however, but it is difficult to say in what way.

Her work is a comic strip, an endless frieze that unfolds according to its own laws. One thinks of a Bayeux tapestry, but exploded into fragments. An obsessive approach that would link him to the art brut, without the lucid and humorous hindsight that he keeps on himself.

It is in the evocation of sacrifice that Logovarda's scenography takes on its highest density, that his line unfolds in the most perfect economy of means. A simple bright red wheel on a dark background, and here is a soggy spinning wheel. On the right, a head that screams so much that its hair becomes a spike. And at his feet an animal upside down, icon of innocence and submission.

One also thinks of tags. His work, from then on, is a conjuration of the demons, an abscess by which the evil forces continuously suppress, neutralized at their very gush by the magic of art.

A revolt of such magnitude has only a fortuitous relationship with techniques, culture and the art market. She seized the brush because it was the first weapon at her disposal.

Text by Slobodan Despot from the book LOGOVARDA, Edition de la Matze-Xenia.