Welcome to the latest exhibition of paintings and sculptures curated by The Coincidence Gallery. This show  brings together the work of ten mature artists and aims to generate a dialogue, whether internal or external, between the works, the viewer and the artists, asking and hopefully gaining insight into simple questions as to why each of the artists create work in their unique way, and how did they get where they are today?

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You will find some answers, and no doubt many more questions, in the following text and, through the transcribed interviews. You will get glimpses into the worlds that artists inhabit which provide depth, meaning and discovery to their lives. 

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Speaking of art

An excerpt from a dialogue between Patrick Bryson and Gisli Bergmann, founders of the Coincidence Gallery.

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Patrick Bryson: The Coincidence Gallery was born out of collaboration, discussion, and the necessity to exhibit our own and others’ work together. 

    We engage in dialogue about contemporary art and its relationship with the world. This includes the theoretical aspects of art making but we are more interested in exploring, as the title of this show posits, what are artists doing, what are they looking for and finding, and why? 

    The name came from a coincidence during the 2021 E17 Art Trail when I visited Gisli Bergmann’s studio. We instantly struck up a dialogue that hasn’t stopped since. The term reflects life’s twists and turns that create opportunities for creative expression, discovery and engagement with life.

    Coincidence is a devalued term, but it actually means the co-existence of multiple interacting factors, events and occasions. The very essence of the creative process. It also conveys value, significance born of hard work, and focus. Coincidence represents the aspect of creativity generated through engagement, time, and seizing the moment. It contradicts the idea of a random universe, suggesting a directionality in the creative process. 

    Gisli Bergmann: Where did your journey in art begin?

    PB: My earliest memories, are of two key events. Firstly, at three years old, my father, a farmer, gave me a small toy tractor in primary colours, a visual memory that has taken on almost mystical significance and has stayed with me my whole life, as he died soon after this. 

Secondly, I was mesmerized by the stained glass windows in our local church, with sunlight streaming through, projecting beautiful colours across the space and congregation. These experiences were formative, shaping my interest in colour and form.

    In secondary school, I realised the distinction between being good at art and being committed, prompting me to develop myself. This continued into art school, where I faced the reality, and excitement of what it could mean to be an artist. 

 

Language of being

I think that as significant as it obviously is, the Renaissance, often seen as the pinnacle of art, created misconceptions about the purpose of art, causing inferiority complexes about being good or not. I freed myself from these restrictions, realising that the creative process is about uncovering and discovering, and has very little, for most of us, about ‘being good’ at
drawing etc.

    I explored Eastern religions and meditation in order to have experiences beyond the confined mental state I was in at the time. 

    This helped develop deeper understanding and skills, highlighting the power of intuition in the creative process. Art, for me, is about dealing with the ‘too-muchness’ of life, and helps develop my language, the language of being alive, escaping a dualistic mindset that can trap us into viewing everything, including ourselves in painful polarities, that are the foundation for suffering and conflict.

    So Gisli, how have you arrived at the way you currently produce your work?

GB: I’ve been drawing since childhood. After secondary school, I chose art school, influenced by a friend’s shared experiences. Art school felt comforting and enjoyable, but it wasn’t until after that I began to understand what I was doing. My identity as an immigrant became clearer after a trip back to my homeland, Iceland. Art helped me survive and gave me an escape from potentially destructive paths.

    PB: How was art a positive force for you?

    GB: Exploring painting and sculpture, attending lectures, and reading allowed me to dive deep into art. After art school, I continued investigating abstraction and contemporary art. Therapy revealed deeper issues from my childhood, leading to a series of paintings about my sister and myself. 

    During Covid, I returned to painting and found confidence in my work, particularly developments in abstraction.

 

Falling apart

One thing important to me as an abstractionist is the organization of my paintings.
I push them to the point where they almost fall apart. This dynamic process is exciting and real. Sometimes, decisions are so nerve-wracking that I stop breathing momentarily, then
I step back to see if the painting has managed to achieve a kind of ‘agency’.

    Discoveries come from previous episodes of exploration stored within. It becomes an instinct. I’ve always been interested in understanding without over-rationalising. 

 

Maintaining relevance

The connection between life and work is intertwined and significant. The task is to maintain relevance and keep going despite modernism’s short-lived period. We’ve inherited a profound connection to art’s history, and understanding and maintaining this relevance is crucial.

PB: The contemporary art narrative often suggests our choices have been stripped away, as in ‘painting is dead’ but I find this absurd. Art isn’t less relevant now in spite of the challenges raised to its prominence. Each artist is questioned by history on how to frame the relevance of their work. 

 

Explosion of possibilities

Modernism dramatically changed art, exploded the possibilities, and now we have more choices, more avenues.

    I question the authority dictating how art should be. The dialogue about outsider art and work by people with brain injuries shows that art’s purpose isn’t constrained by art world philosophies. Their art is profound, authentic, free, and expressive.

The direct experience of creativity fuels the importance of art, not just the existence of the artistic historical record. 

    GB: Abstract art frees us from the need to represent while allowing ambiguous links to representation. Identifying patterns in abstraction raises questions about recognition and its meaning.

    It’s about understanding the profound way we make connections between ourselves, others, and life itself, through the creative process.

    When a piece feels right, it’s like discovering an order within the painting that reflects something important. This involves trusting yourself, letting go, and allowing things to fall apart without adhering too much to a critical voice.

    PB: On the topic of finished work, I often think about continuously painting over a single canvas, as a metaphor for our lifes work all being one continuous stream. 

    GB: I once worked with an artist who continued painting on one canvas to the extent that he could hardly lift it, but it became a way to free himself to continue with other works. 

We pause the conversation there :). 

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© 2024  Curated and written by Gisli Bergmann & Patrick Bryson

patrickbryson@me.com