Artists

Sivickas, Nijole

Senora (Lady), 1977
(c) Nijole Sivickas Archive, Foto: Antanas Mockus

Nijolė Šivickas (Lithuania, 1925–Colombia, 2018) never died; she vibrates with her work as a single being. If you get close enough, you can see her hands shaping each one of her creations, and you can hear her sculptures reciting poems that come from the bowels of the earth, mixtures of blood and bones, of pain and hope. Her beings expand in time and space, welcoming with a warm hug to whoever visits. They defy the laws of physics via impossible shapes and volumes, and her characters shake the foundations of society with fierce humility. Šivickas’ work mixes ceramics, metals, wood and oxide, exposing her bond with the natural quality of her materials.
This selection displays different stages of her oeuvre, from figurative to abstract and installation. Beings that talk about the human condition: Señora (Lady) is a confident mature woman. Idiota (Idiot) is each one of us, clueless but calm before the mystery of existence. In Escena de Cinco (Scene of five), Šivickas becomes a film director assembling a mise-en-scène of five beings expressing their individuality within the collectivity. Pesadilla (Nightmare) enters a dark and dense dream with begging hands, dead feet, and eyes that scrutinize. Colgado (Hanged) stages a tragic death within the immensity of the unknown. From this void, we are born again with Semilla (Seed): a sacred egg that is being delicately cut by an invisible hand. And with a playful smile on her face, Šivickas makes us feel the pain of the burning iron on our skin, branding us like cows with the label: MUJER (WOMAN).
"I’m not in front of the material. The material is next to me. I look at it and it watches me. And so the dialogue begins: I am raising an object from you and you are forcing me to hold you in my hands while you also try to raise. Are we fighting? you ask. We are two beings, you are already an object, and I am within you. Look, you hurt my hand and leg. But you were carving me with a knife." And so the dialogue never ends ...

Text: Maria Cecilia Reyes; deutsche Übersetzung: Johanna Schindler

Nijolė Šivickas (Lithuania, 1925–Colombia, 2018) never died; she vibrates with her work as a single being. If you get close enough, you can see her hands shaping each one of her creations, and you can hear her sculptures reciting poems that come from the bowels of the earth, mixtures of blood and bones, of pain and hope. Her beings expand in time and space, welcoming with a warm hug to whoever visits. They defy the laws of physics via impossible shapes and volumes, and her characters shake the foundations of society with fierce humility. Šivickas’ work mixes ceramics, metals, wood and oxide, exposing her bond with the natural quality of her materials.
This selection displays different stages of her oeuvre, from figurative to abstract and installation. Beings that talk about the human condition: Señora (Lady) is a confident mature woman. Idiota (Idiot) is each one of us, clueless but calm before the mystery of existence. In Escena de Cinco (Scene of five), Šivickas becomes a film director assembling a mise-en-scène of five beings expressing their individuality within the collectivity. Pesadilla (Nightmare) enters a dark and dense dream with begging hands, dead feet, and eyes that scrutinize. Colgado (Hanged) stages a tragic death within the immensity of the unknown. From this void, we are born again with Semilla (Seed): a sacred egg that is being delicately cut by an invisible hand. And with a playful smile on her face, Šivickas makes us feel the pain of the burning iron on our skin, branding us like cows with the label: MUJER (WOMAN).
"I’m not in front of the material. The material is next to me. I look at it and it watches me. And so the dialogue begins: I am raising an object from you and you are forcing me to hold you in my hands while you also try to raise. Are we fighting? you ask. We are two beings, you are already an object, and I am within you. Look, you hurt my hand and leg. But you were carving me with a knife." And so the dialogue never ends ...

Text: Maria Cecilia Reyes; deutsche Übersetzung: Johanna Schindler

Senora (Lady), 1977
(c) Nijole Sivickas Archive, Foto: Antanas Mockus