“You discover a painting slowly, in steps. What you see first will never be what you see last and you will not refind your way – the path is already hidden once you follow it.” Charline von Heyl / UCLA Hammer Talk, May 5, 2011.

« A painter is lost when he finds himself» Max Ernst



         I see my work as the record of a conversation with Painting.
         Like other non-representational painters, I do not consider my work as abstract since I work from images. These images that seem to me highly significant to start with, I codify, I distort so that they become difficult or impossible to recognize. This process results in a language of hieroglyphs, encrypted emotions with no particular pathos attached.  Visual information is the only key to the mystery of these images. In the end, I play with expectations and frustrations, mine or those of my spectators.


         My bag of tricks is a bric-a-brac of painting techniques and visual devices: paint applied with brush or knife flattened and crushed into the picture plane, oil painting or acrylic, sometimes both at the same time, paint applied with rags, scraped or rubbed into the surface as if to move back and forth on the two sides of a mirror, sharply cut edges with masking tape, colors are tripping, shapes degenerate.


         If my paintings have an emotional life, it is hidden behind the appearance of child’s play, my primary concern: a serious game.
         I look for the image that intrigues and makes me curious like a puzzle would do. When images appear in my paintings or drawings, it is like bumping into myself while turning around a street corner.  Suddenly, I see a sober distance and a familiar smile overlapping each other. When I notice contradictions, hesitations or disturbing elements in my work, I take them as far as possible. Without denying them, and without losing sight of what seems to be solidly accomplished, I find there a particular view, a specific distance only a mental space would require, a bird’s eye view. I inflame color into strident, forms towards the grotesque but not totally, just enough to find myself off track, out of sync.


         I ask myself questions about harmony, elegance or balance, about the classical ideals of beauty. I try to see what would be the impact of dissonant elements, that of disorder, at what point and under what conditions the integrity of the whole is lost. How much stress can the system take?* How does it adapt to change?
         Sometimes I paint backwards, in reverse gear; the background is applied at the end around already stated shapes in the foreground.  I walk backwards; I carefully remove with my palette knife paint that I applied quickly in the beginning.


         I do not paint because I have something to say, I paint because what I say, succinctly perhaps, seems better said in painting.

Radu Tuian 2013



*Jacques Attali, Noise: The Political Economy of Music - “A network can be destroyed by noises that attack and transform it, if the codes in place are unable to normalize and repress them. Although the new order is not contained in the structure of the old, it is nonetheless not a product of chance. It is created by the substitution of new differences for the old differences. Noise is the source of these mutations in the structuring codes. For despite the death it contains, noise carries order within itself; it carries new information. This may seem strange. But noise does in fact create a meaning: first, because the interruption of a message signifies the interdiction of the transmitted meaning, signifies censorship and rarity; and second, because the very absence of meaning in pure noise or in the meaningless repetition of a message, by unchanneling auditory sensations, frees the listener’s imagination. The absence of meaning is in this case the presence of all meanings, absolute ambiguity, a construction outside meaning. The presence of noise makes sense, makes meaning. It makes possible the creation of a new order on another level of organization, of a new code in another network.”