On the Paintings of Deniz Ozan-George

By Brian George

Part 1: The breaking of the golden egg

Deni,

Most often, I see your paintings as cosmologies—in which the eternal present moment has been broken apart and is just about to be projected into time.

The four corners of the canvas are the four ages or the four fixed signs of the Zodiac or the four elements; the canvas is an arena of ritual action, in which the vertical and horizontal axes interact.

As is the case with my writing, also, you do not—beyond a point—indicate how these zones of ritual action should be viewed. Is this order or chaos, emergence or disintegration, natural breadth or meditative depth, microcosmic or interstellar space?

Much information has been provided by the creator, but it is up to the viewer or the reader to complete the cosmological act, and to coax the completed world into a state of full coherence.

The questions that we ask will determine the answers that we get.

If I looked at one of your paintings for an hour every day, I would never see quite the same thing twice.

Even now, the first continents are thrusting from the ocean. The stars are drawing up their shadows from the waves. Desire is spreading the conjuration out—to the four still undiscovered corners of the Earth.

Part 2: The tower that electrifies the egg

Bit by bit, it seems as though you are being transformed into an unstoppable force of nature. In your work, signs point to a technology of the vacuum, to the birth of an archaic science from the ocean. Beloved wife, goodbye; you are off to a different world. I shudder to think what would happen if you had seven days a week to paint!

Soon, you will reappear from the yolk of the Eagle Nebula. First parting them to peek, you will step from between the cross-threads where you are gathering up your presence.

But perhaps time or the lack of it is not really of that much importance. For although you have developed an intimate relationship to what some would define as “chance,” and each individual piece might be said to unfold in a multitude of directions, there is nonetheless something inevitable about the large-scale movement of the process. After many years of incubation, the pieces are only too happy to pop out.

Once built by Tesla, and ringed with electrocuted birds, there is a tower from which free energy flows.

Like an incandescent coil, the artist pulls down the energy that is also a kind of information. X marks the painting. There is no reason for the past and future to search further for a more propitious spot to intersect. Already, you have begun to glow.

Yes, effort is needed, and a subtle quality of attention as one is led around many twists and turns, out of dead ends, and into many new false starts. Some degree of boredom and disgust must be allowed. For the good work is the one that self-destructs, thus opening one’s eyes.

The “oeuvre” is the ovum—the already perfect museum gallery of the egg, from whose darkness the fingers of each work reach back to reconfigure the artist.

(Illustrations, Deni Ozan-George, untitled painting, 2010)

Also, see my new blog Masks of Origin--new posts ever couple of days

http://masksoforigin.blogspot.com/