© Mark Yashaev - Aleph, 2018, Inkjet print, 150 x 205 cm
TITLE_NAME :
Mark Yashaev - Aleph
06/09/2018 - 29/11/2018
Braverman Gallery
Israel, HaSharon St 12
Tel Aviv
The letter Aleph represents the beginning or the source, “It is the beginning beyond the beginning, an initial appearance in time, the pure form of truth.” This concept is suggested in Mark Yashaev’s very first exhibition at Braverman Gallery, which creates a time-transcending space between cinematic image and painting, between body and sculpture, and between reality and imagination
In Jorge Luis Borges’s book, “The Aleph,” (1945) he writes: “A lifetime was given to try and discover the Aleph or, at least narrow the gap between the letter (the word) and the thing, between the signifier and the signified. The revelation or creation according to Kabbalah is the timeline in which language is created.” Yashaev, much like Borges, seeks to bridge this gap, though simultaneously recognizes that every attempt at such is doomed to fail, resulting somewhere between the real and the imagined, in a sort of impossible dimension of nostalgia for the past.
06/09/2018 - 29/11/2018
Braverman Gallery
Israel, HaSharon St 12
Tel Aviv
The letter Aleph represents the beginning or the source, “It is the beginning beyond the beginning, an initial appearance in time, the pure form of truth.” This concept is suggested in Mark Yashaev’s very first exhibition at Braverman Gallery, which creates a time-transcending space between cinematic image and painting, between body and sculpture, and between reality and imagination
In Jorge Luis Borges’s book, “The Aleph,” (1945) he writes: “A lifetime was given to try and discover the Aleph or, at least narrow the gap between the letter (the word) and the thing, between the signifier and the signified. The revelation or creation according to Kabbalah is the timeline in which language is created.” Yashaev, much like Borges, seeks to bridge this gap, though simultaneously recognizes that every attempt at such is doomed to fail, resulting somewhere between the real and the imagined, in a sort of impossible dimension of nostalgia for the past.