Maintaining the Unstable
It always begins by disturbing the surface.
The canvas is not an empty space. It is a field of tensions.
He soils it, fractures it, throws it off balance.
He establishes an initial state of uncertainty — not to represent it, but to enter it.
What he calls “chaos” is not confusion.
It is the raw state of the world before decision.
Painting then consists in remaining within this unstable space without closing it too quickly.
In resisting the temptation of immediate form.
In allowing forces to organize themselves without constraining them.
The work does not arise from a program, but from an exposure to risk.
Each canvas is a negotiation between collapse and construction.
Too much order — it freezes.
Too much disorder — it disappears.
What is being sought is not an image, but a point of tension where matter begins to hold.
A fragile axis.
A provisional balance.
The surface becomes an active depth.
The gesture hesitates, returns, cuts.
Painting does not illustrate: it appears.
The gaze does not find a narrative there.
It passes through a field of forces.
It encounters resistances, openings, densities.
Nothing is decorative. Everything is in the process of becoming.
There is no school.
There is no system.
There is an ordeal.
An ordeal before disorder.
An ordeal before the external gaze.
An ordeal before the world itself, whose stability is no longer guaranteed.
Painting means accepting that nothing is assured.
A canvas can collapse until the very last minute.
But when the tension holds — without resolving — something occurs.
Not a certainty.
A presence.
Maintaining the unstable does not mean dominating chaos.
It means remaining long enough at the heart of its movement for a form to appear without closing.
In this tense interval, painting breathes.
It does not fix the world: it accompanies its becoming.
Luan Rama
Writer
The Colored Pedagogy of Tauland
It is called the source of the flowering fields.
Is the source of flowers a special sense, one that purifies forms, retaining only their colors and eliminating their shapes as much as possible? The phenomenology Tauland speaks to us about (paints) — is it that of flowers of nuances?
Imagine one of the senses, sight, as a source of flowering nuances, a sense analogous to nature, to the organic world. What would the eye see without the arrest of the object? He is neither the first nor the last painter to interrupt that arrest… to forbid the flower’s fixation as an object… to forbid the object itself… to interrupt the life of flowers as objects.
Reflect! When one offers a bouquet, one does not offer a form, but a landscape. Painters like Tauland, in such a bouquet cast upon the warm landscape of a living room, or on a table near the window of an office, saw something else: either the intensification of color within the intimacy of a room, or the interruption of the square lines of a desk by the inextricable complexity of colors.
Something is required to interrupt the objective life of forms. For when color is entrusted with a mission, the senses themselves are called to labor. Facing a landscape, the senses do not remain inactive. More effort is demanded of them than of the purely cerebral.
At what level of perspective do these colors become a landscape or a text? And through what approach does the frame transform into a face? Tauland says: “Each of my works, not being a representation, is an act of form.”
And we might add: an act that fully engages matter, yet never offers it as subject. Not acts of representation, but acts of landscape-making. Between color and stain, we encounter a map of cognition — knowledge without object. Suddenly we recall that among philosophers there has always been controversy between the silence of the eye and its labor: a struggle between the beautiful and the sublime.
Thus the visitor to an exhibition such as Tauland’s instinctively seeks a form in order to read — so as not to see — the stains. They search for an escape toward the peaceful life of forms. Such an attempt arises in order to find form where colors reign as masters. For there undoubtedly exists an ancestral knowledge of the eye, preceding any presence of image.
Thus we explore the heterogeneity of the surfaces of the body and of nature in search of a translator of stains, an orienter of our sensations. For one cannot enter or leave the pictorial universe without the trace of the familiar. It suffices to discover in a painting an element resembling a muscle, slightly to the left of the center (Interlacing Eden 3/26), for the viewer immediately to recognize a part of the body.
I will transform this calculation into a code of pictorial knowledge. I will compel the painting to show me “necessarily” that this carnal matter is suspended from barriers that may not even be barriers. The painter has offered me a cacophony of colors and a profusion of stains so that I may affix to them the names of an environment. The painter has given me a pretext — paradoxically too material — with which to construct a learned photograph.
It is not always about painting. Nor always about this painting. Yet for a long time, within the post-expressionist current, the artist has sought to see in order to provoke other perceptions. Did he choose abstraction or pure color? Did he abstract or materialize? Did he enclose or envelop? The question remains open.
The positive outcome is that one leaves the pictorial space with an intensified sensory reconfiguration — one more experience added to one’s aesthetic awareness.
Even if the viewer searches for figures or references within the random compositions of color, they are already caught within this pedagogy of recognition through color. Their perception begins to use this process of reconstructing reality. The source of the flowering field serves precisely this purpose.
Art is, in part, necessarily a pedagogy of the senses.
Elvis Hoxha
Philosopher and Lecturer
University of Tirana (Albania)
Chaque retour met en lumière la rigueur et la sensibilité qui caractérisent notre approche, offrant un regard neuf et éclairé sur chaque texte.
Grâce à ces témoignages, vous pouvez ressentir la passion et l'engagement qui animent notre travail, renforçant la confiance dans notre expertise.
The Infinite Dance of Forms
As in Tauland’s previous works, this diverse cycle seems to breathe from a dizzying storm of colors, forms, and emotions, conveying an unrestrained dynamism—so much so that it feels as if an invisible yet powerful wind carries you away toward undiscovered places, almost into infinity.
Within it there is so much tension and harmony, so many forms and colors standing side by side—seemingly independent and undisciplined, as if outside any symmetrical rule—yet equally understanding of one another, connected by an inner law that is at once invisible and intuitive.
Confronted with this new cycle, a question arose in me spontaneously:
– whether such a painting is inspired by the inner depths of the painter’s soul, or whether it finds its source in the diversity of colors that nature offers us in all its manifestations?
And also,
– whether such creations carry a well-reasoned, realistic message, or whether they are creations deeply rooted in the sensitivity and inner balance of the artist.
Whatever the answer may be, it seems to me that although in all of Julian Tauland’s works one can recognize his hand and his emotion, this new cycle appears as a new stage—a powerful artistic leap in the course of his creative journey.
Ylljet Alicka
Writer
Un espace pour la découverte
L'organisation pensée invite à la contemplation et à l'ouverture d'esprit face aux textes critiques.
