Interesting reiteration may be traced in the bisected fruits: both display a cross section that reveals a telescopic, and somewhat kaleidoscopic pattern that appears to suck the viewer in — where to exactly is unclear, but the black center of the pattern may allude to the eponymous cosmic phenomena, and their destructive forces. I doubt the artist has counted on the sinister effect; the dark end of the tunnel may conceptually (and not without some humor) imply the finishing line of consuming the product — “it was nice while it lasted, it’s over, back to normal now.” This reminds me of the known phrase, “the hole of the bagel”, which means “nothing.” The hole of the artichoke and the hole of the fig seem just as empty and devoid of edible substance… now that’s just not fair!

Complex color modulations offset unassuming compositions. For instance, the whole artichoke boasts several varieties of green, usually achieved by adding white or black to the main tone. The cut version startles and rivets with contrasting color interplay, yellow enveloping the purple, two opposite colors on the wheel. The white of the stem and the innards acts as a neutral, and somehow abstract force of nature; it threatens to burst out into the beholder’s face and to blind, as the expanding feature of white intensifies the air. Indeed, the whole set-up resembles an atomic explosion (or a big bang, to align the metaphors) recalling the violent “end” of the vegetable on the one hand, and the enormous amount of energy that its growth expends on the other. The artist constructs a visual allegory of the agricultural process by color organization (and choice of composition).

The nonchalant arrangement of the figs subtly arouses one’s gustatory sense; the straightforward artichoke does the same thing — they succeed because they hardly seem to try. Naturalist fascination with patterns, geometrical and colorful, gradually transcends into an aesthetic admiration. Powerful palette and simple symmetric compositions secure the latter. But perhaps the most accurate observation that could be made about these pieces is that they keep their promises.

The artist’s choices of angle, lighting and compositional methods direct the viewer to ruminate over more personal and intimate associations. Both of the apparatuses were approached from a rather high angle, as if sneaked upon: that way the artist simulates a quiet intrusion; in a way the viewer is being allowed in medias res of a past telephone conversation, or a writing session. The sheer physical proximity of the instruments disorientates the viewer, forcing to seek an anchor in the form of a compositional hand-rail (not necessarily the focal point). The telephone receiver, a handle in quite a literal way, may serve as such a stabilizer in the piece above, whereas the question mark upon a metallic pole — the two together forming a bar chair — would support the “dizzy” beholder of the painting below. Cropping of principal objects emphasizes their role as supporting tools, as  a partial rendering alludes to the limited mechanical part the tools play. Eventually they serve the people, they are mere automatons.

Perhaps the artist anticipates and ironizes overzealous fascination with technology. In my understanding of these pieces, the interplay of language and its parts with the cumbersome machines that contain it, or even enclose it, reinvigorates the dispute of humanities versus technology, and which will bring the progress we may have gotten accustomed to expect. In a way, the temporality of the devices underscores the vigor of technological progress. Some machines die — new ones appear. We do not see, however, the new generation depicted, it is but implied. It is the letters, either black on white or white on black, vivid and always relevant, that remain active as the only working and still usable components in these devices; words, unlike machines, will never fail those who use them — regardless even of time itself.

M’s today’s blend is so homogeneous that sometimes it is difficult to discern any clear stylistic affiliation. The painter created a style that defies categorization — both a unique adaptation and a category of its own. Indeed, at some point it may seem that the artist may finally settle for any of the relevant trends — realism, hyper-realism or even impressionism, at the stage when light effects enjoy a particular emphasis. For an outside observer that expectation alone is highly stimulating. Ultimately, however, one learns that waiting for a definitive outcome is counterproductive — but more amazing is the fact that that only serves to increase the suspense. Is the artist playing some kind of a highly elaborate visual game? In my newly assumed role as a detective, I tend to say “yes” without a self-reproach of paranoia.

If pressed, I would have to say that the fine details, most reflections, depictions of glassy surfaces are usually hyper-real; light effects are often presented through a translucent impressionistic filter; the darker areas, fortified by earthly tones, exhibit strong realistic traits; finally, economical compositions may be found in either of the schools, as has been shown by several daily (and not only) painters. I admit that this analysis may only testify to my own confusion in the face of the entire (blogged) oeuvre. Once again, the only way I can explain this eclecticism is to suggest that it was the artist’s aim: to carefully study the possibilities of various trends, derive from each one a set of useful features and project them through an individual lens.

Perhaps this outline may serve as a tentative guide to examine and interpret specific paintings. There is no definite distribution of features; each piece may include either qualities in various ratios, depending on the theme and composition — but I find the endeavor itself titillating and gratifying. In M’s own words, the blog was “created to chronicle the artist’s progress as a painter.” We witness this progress, but are doomed to remain a step behind — just where the artist wants us.