Mascaron 1990

Curator: Welcome. Here we have Oleg Holosiy's "Mascaron," painted in 1990, using watercolors and coloured pencil. Editor: First thought? This feels hauntingly simple. Like a faded memory or a dream slipping away. The blue outline against the warm, muted background creates this incredible sense of vulnerability. Curator: The stark simplicity is quite striking. Consider how Holosiy reduces the human face to near-geometric forms. The circular head, the rectangular nose—it's almost a diagram. But those choices evoke complex psychological responses. Editor: Absolutely. And there's a certain intentional naivete about it too. Like a child's drawing, but loaded with adult melancholy. It also reminds me a bit of ancient masks, maybe funerary ones? Curator: Precisely! That visual language connects it to wider conversations around representation, the self, and mortality. And the flatness emphasizes surface over depth—a nod towards formalist concerns perhaps. Editor: You’re right about the funerary masks and the feeling of depth in relation to the surface. Yet the blurring within the watercolor and color pencils actually hints at inner life despite it. See the softness in those edges, it belies a hidden depth, no? Curator: It certainly invites layers of interpretation. Holosiy might use these elemental forms to critique idealised notions of beauty or perfect proportion, challenging traditional portraiture conventions. Editor: For me, there's something primal. It touches something very raw, about loneliness, the desire to be seen and maybe a gentle request to be understood, despite everything. Curator: That's a compelling interpretation. The ambiguity ensures lasting engagement, no? Editor: Undoubtedly. It’s simplicity and depth both haunt me in different ways. Curator: A fitting end, indeed, a simple composition with multi-faceted ideas.