Incubator 24 is thrilled to present Feminarium, the first solo exhibition of Lucrezia Abatzoglu.
Through a multidisciplinary approach that spans drawing, painting and sculpture, the artist explores notions of identity, femininity and the liminal spaces that exists somewhere between reality and the imagination. Abatzoglu’s work draws on a variety of sources – from Italian Renaissance and classical sculpture to pagan mythologies – in order to create deceptively complex portraits that both repel and enchant.
The exhibition is divided into three interconnected bodies of work, which are distinguished by the following groupings: ‘sanctuarium,’ ‘sudarium’ and ‘feminarium,’ which gives the show its title.
‘Feminarium’ is a hypothetical term constructed from ‘femina’ meaning ‘female’, referring to such designated spaces in Ancient Rome that were specifically intended for women only. Through a series of figurative oil paintings, Abatzoglu expands this definition to focus on how the isolated female body has - all too often - become the object of the male gaze; her intimate yet powerful paintings subtly investigate the psychological and physical spaces into which women are forced to inhabit.
In a number of strangely surreal paintings, Abatzoglu depicts women sitting awkwardly - yet defiantly - in shimmering cocktail glasses. Direct, confrontational and aware of their own objectification, the figures gaze seductively out to the viewer, becoming, at once, both the subject and the object. With masterful technique and an uncanny ability to depict both seduction and sadness simultaneously, Abatzoglu’s subversive portraits are a heady mix of historic convention and oneiric fantasy.
Downstairs, we enter the ‘sudarium,’ a Latin word, which translates to ‘sweat cloth’. In Christian tradition, it often refers to a bloodstained piece of cloth thought to have been used to cover the face of Jesus after his crucifixion. Whilst drawing on religious interpretation, Abatzoglu’s use of muslin cloth also evokes breastfeeding mothers, the straining of milk for cheese-making and, when humorously combined, the Milky Way, which got its name from a Greek myth about the goddess Hera who sprayed milk across the sky. The associations blossom from the microscopic to the universal just as her charcoal drawings and watercolours on stretched muslin depict a humble pair of socks beside half an apple in reference to Christianity’s original sin. The artist choice in subject matter and their delicate rendering in raw charcoal then demonstrates Abatzoglu’s intimate and conceptual approach to her depiction of femininity.
Finally, the ‘sanctuarium,’ holds the four miniature sculptures, which utilise the ancient art of lost wax and are then cast in bronze and sterling silver, with two figures who have blue sapphires and red garnets for eyes. Transcending figurative representation, the modern-day idols challenge conventional notions of worship and invite viewers to contemplate the divine essence inherent in the human form. They hold, within their fragile bodies, themes of pain and entrapment, reminiscent of the preserved bodies in Pompeii that have been frozen in time by Vesuvius’ ash, reminding us that the struggle for dignity and equality is both urgent and eternal.