Kristina Kurilionok

I painted it in the summer of 2024.

Exhebition: In the tracts of Psyche. The Dark Side

She felt as if she had never danced in the rain before.

Video-pill on the ‘Immersion’ section.

Text and voice: Marina Miani

Filming: Nicolo' Paba

Editing: Elisa Piovesan

She felt as if she had never danced in the rain before. And yes, whenever one drop of water chased another as it fell to the ground, she had danced a perfect arabesque in her pointe shoes. With the clearing, she returned to the hall of mirrors and again began the grueling rehearsals to take the limelight with the birth of the new day. Fear filled her completely—an unreal, furious, unresolved terror toward the discipline that had led her to abandon even herself in order to shine before the judging eyes of a critical and superficial public, intoxicated by the harmonious, smiling lines brought to the stage.

It seemed to her that she had never danced in the rain until that moment. And yes, that night, as one drop of water chased another to the ground, she had danced, her feet cut and bleeding, soiled with mud; naked, completely naked, she whirled, screaming without making a sound. She flew, despite her exhausted back, her limbs torn by stones that lodged in her flesh every time she reached for the stars, only to be called back to earth in a primordial way. And she remained in that oblivion of footsteps, words, voices, lights, colors—squatting, her thin, exhausted hands encircling her head, turned toward her chest, until the next day.

It seemed to her that she had never danced in the rain until then.

Moving self-portrait / Video work 2:24 min.

Kristina's Kurilionok YouTube page

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxc0yqEI6pk&t=16s&ab_channel=KristinaMagdaKurilionok

Location. Abandoned St. John's Church, Italy.

Music from Tarkovsky's film "The Sacrifice"

Shin-Getsu - Watazumido Shuso (Watazumi Doso Roshi)

Getlock - Tjugmyr Maria LarssonDu

We live in a society permeated by the threat of loneliness. We fear it; we run from it. Loneliness is interpreted as a negative experience that plunges us into despair. We seek entertainment and oblivion. We are afraid to be sad, to turn inwards. The illusion of strong foundations is shattered, and this is frightening. We are left with uncertainty and anxiety.

With my work "Solitudine?!", which consists of two paintings and a video projection, I want to invite the viewer to look at sadness from a different perspective. In fact, in the prehistory of humankind, the invention of images was not merely the creation of a work of art in the aesthetic sense, but rather a symbolic, magical drawing—a personal definition, a transcendental connection, a fetish, and ultimately a religious world for knowing nature and one's environment.

Watching a girl in motion to the melancholic sound of the Japanese flute, we are pulled from our hypnotic stupor by the witch-like scream of Tjugmyr Maria Larsson. The Girl in the Ruins is a symbolic choice, an invitation to build new experiences amid the remnants of the old world—an invitation not to lose touch with one's identity:

"Loneliness is more than a widespread experience. In some ways, it is a necessary experience, inevitably connected to human life. Our individuality imposes loneliness on us; it cannot be avoided except at the cost of losing one's identity."

—Maria Miceli, Sentirsi soli / Feeling Alone, Il Mulino, Bologna 2003

“Painting is a journey into the continuous and daily metamorphosis created by human existence.”

Maria Rosaria Gallo

Kristina's journey into painting was not straightforward. Though gifted in the exact sciences, she initially chose management studies. However, her attraction to painting, which blossomed during her teens at the Vienožinskis Art School, never faded; in fact, it only grew stronger. Consequently, she took a leap into the unknown by enrolling at the Vilnius Academy of Fine Arts. Like many young artists, she had to discover her own themes. The teachers at the Academy encouraged her to answer the question, "What do I really care about?" with honesty and openness, and to express that in her art. Kristina looked inside herself.

She found a mirror. She realized that she always changes, always shifts when she stands before it, as if hoping to hide her true self from her reflection. This introspection led her to an interest in psychoanalysis, particularly Jacques Lacan's theories of the gaze and the conflicts within her inner world. Surreal, schizophrenic, and grotesque images of herself began to inhabit her canvases, becoming the most recognizable feature of Kurilionok's work.

The artist's name gained recognition in 2009 after she won the Audience Award at the Young Painter Prize competition. Since then, she has actively participated in group exhibitions and held solo shows. The theme of the relationship between the self and the world consistently emerges in her expressive, emotionally charged paintings. The artist seeks to perceive herself as an unknown other—something that, in painting, can lead her to the mysterious door of understanding. In her earlier works, her self-portraits narrated the spiritual conflicts of youth and female identity (as seen in Fighting Goliath I and Fighting Goliath II, 2010). Later, her work became more complex; the stories portrayed in her multi-layered compositions evolved into universal allegories of the tragic human experience and disorder, depicting the struggle for and against oneself and the cherished hope of eventual reconciliation. According to gallerist Maria Rosaria Gallo, Kristina Kurilionok's work is "... a journey into the continuous and daily metamorphosis created by human existence." At the heart of this transformation is the body, the site of all events—a body that reveals itself simultaneously as both actor and stage in the drama of life.

The artist assigns a special role to the body, which bears her features but does not necessarily belong to her. In No News in Our Village (2012-2013), we see sad twins—fragments of herself—on the canvas. In many of her works, the artist has painted herself alongside older, elderly figures. These pieces frequently reflect her search for the roots of her inner turmoil, intertwined with memories of childhood and family life in the town of Lentvaris. For example, the painting Sacrifice (2013) addresses the complex process of letting go of a grown child, where all parties must confront their share of abandonment's pain. Conflicts in family relationships also recur in Celebration (2013). The artist's works often feature a black cat, a dog, and dense vegetation. The cat, which appears in her art, has a real-life prototype: her pet named Shiva. According to the artist, animals and plants naturally integrate into her work, stemming from her upbringing in the small town of Lentvaris, where she was always close to nature. In contrast to the animals, the plants in her canvases appear haunting and mysteriously schizophrenic (Flower Power, 2012-2013).

Although Kurilionok is best known as a painter, she also explores video and photographic media. In her photocollages, she experiments with her image, which differs significantly from her paintings. According to the artist, the lens acts like a mirror, prompting unconscious posing, making self-reflection the most important aspect of her work. Kurilionok's art stands out among the younger generation of painters for its distinctive style, though similarities can be found with artists like Žygimantas Augustinas, Monika Furmanaviččiūtė, and Andrius Zakarauskas, who also employ self-portraiture. However, her creative vision is more heavily influenced by the works of Polish-born French modernist Balthus, contemporary British painter Lucian Freud, and Romanian painter Adrian Ghenie, who has gained recognition in recent years.

Text by art historian Jolanta Marcišauskytė-Jurašienė