Lola Kovács: ZERO – Final Guided Tour at Ladó Gallery

Kovács Lola – ZÉRÓ

Ladó Gallery

Her parents are visual artists; her maternal grandfather was a literary scholar, her grandmother a library director, and her uncle a well-known film critic. Although she graduated in English from the Faculty of Humanities, the pull of art eventually proved stronger. She went on to study painting at the Hungarian University of Fine Arts, followed by a series of exhibitions and awards. Today, her distinctive works can be found in public collections, private galleries, and the homes of collectors. Her creative and experimental nature keeps her constantly in motion. This exhibition marks the beginning of a new chapter in her painterly practice.

Excerpts from a conversation with the artist:

"Let me tell you something. A few years ago, I started getting interested in shamanism and came across a series of videos online made by a South American man. He has a scientific background but encountered an ancient shamanic culture near the Amazon, and eventually became one of its transmitters. He now leads ceremonies, and usually begins them by asking participants to imagine a light source at the center of their heart—one that can be lifted and extended around the body as a kind of spiritual protective shell, because during rituals, one is vulnerable. You mentally lift the light above your head and draw it down around yourself... When I first heard this, I was stunned, because as a small child, I used to do exactly the same thing. I felt like I had no boundaries, like my identity had no edge. I believed that people—especially my parents—could see what I was thinking. After a while, this started to bother me, and at night, lying in bed, I began to create these light shells around myself in my imagination. Not just one—at least seven. I imagined them like layers of light, like a glowing onion. If I wrapped myself in a light-onion, then inside, I could think whatever I wanted. And now, as I started painting these zeros, it struck me that this form is, in a way, an onion. An infinite onion."

"In recent years, I’ve often worked with red. I even have an entire series that hasn’t yet been exhibited—it's still waiting. It consists of red draperies and red stones. I already have a title for it: Redshift. When I began the first of these ‘zero’ paintings, I again started with red, but the addition of new colors gradually washed it out—it became pinkish-red, then I added turquoises, blues, and eventually yellows…”

"I've been preoccupied with the concept of zero, of nothingness, for a long time—it was even the subject of a (never completed) doctoral dissertation. I collected a great deal of material for it and partially wrote it, and I still might finish and publish it one day.

This also ties into a persistent issue I’ve had while painting: a kind of phobia around backgrounds. Fine, I’d paint something—but what about the background? Early in my career, I would fill the background with all sorts of things—texts, numbers, letters—anything to deal with it. That was a classic horror vacui, a fear of emptiness.

Later, I started working on plexiglass and foil, so there wouldn't be a background at all.

How does it happen that an image, a work, appears in one’s mind out of nothing? Of course, not in its final form, but still—there’s this idea, seemingly from nowhere. I wanted to show that in a way that the finished piece would also emerge from nothing. That’s why I created the transparent works. And at the same time, I was deeply interested in the philosophy behind all this.”

"I find it very difficult to give titles—to individual works or exhibitions. I don't like 'telling' titles, ones that clearly say what a piece is about. For example, René Magritte’s strange titles are wonderful because they add another layer, an unexpected association to the image.

But now I decided to call this exhibition ZÉRÓ, and the largest painting First Zero, because this truly feels like the beginning of something. I’m certain of that."

Edited by Ágnes Bihari