户尔柏林 | 玛丽安娜·乌季宁「谁怕红色污渍与黄色雪？Who’s Afraid of Red Stains and Yellow Snow?」| 即将开幕

玛丽安娜·乌季宁的创作植根于以过程为核心的抽象实践。在她的艺术中，绘画不再只是图像，而是一种材料性的事件。她主要使用丙烯，将颜料倾倒、铺展成薄层，附着于塑料上，使其干燥为可剥离、可拖拽、可折叠并重新装裱的柔性“皮肤”。作品介于绘画与雕塑之间，脱离画框进入空间，将表面呈现为一种主动的、身体性的存在。

她最新展览的标题《谁怕红色污渍与黄色雪？》有意回应现代主义关于绘画自主性的经典命题。乌蒂宁对“表面”的“攻击”揭示隐藏之物，让人感受到平时无法察觉的气息。“黄色雪”以冷峻的方式修正现代主义的纯洁神话，提醒我们表面从不无辜，看似洁净之物往往会因接触而发生改变，无论是在化学、文化还是心理层面。

在大型肉粉色作品《汤力（Tonic）》中，色彩和材料的可塑性超越画框，将观者包裹其中。巨大的“肉褶”层层覆盖，彼此翻涌，如浪潮般推进。那仿佛枯萎花朵的色调令人沉迷，几乎令人作呕，将人吸入其褶皱深处。绘画的性张力在此迸发，材料本身具有鲜明的人性特质，如同一首关于龟裂与起伏皮肤的诗。

1997年威尼斯双年展北欧馆展出的作品《浮游（Float）》，宛如某种脱落的皮肤而存在。泥质般的褶皱和折痕没有透露任何特征。它无关性别，也无关作者身份，自成一体，成为某种他物的痕迹。乌季宁每日走进工作室，从绘画中“撕出”某物，作品虽极为私密，却并非自传，而是讲述伤口、裂痕与内在风景，呈现绘画所包含的人性。

乌季宁的创作基于一种信念：一切最终都会浮现于表面，潜藏的意义终将显露。她的作品与姿态性表达和无意识相连。绘画的表面能够释放心智，是自我消解的场所。初看之下，她的方式或显光滑、时尚甚至“过度”，但这正是其策略所在。在一个由数字平滑和监控塑造的时代，人工与真实的界限模糊，经验越来越通过图像被“表演”，她的作品打破了被封闭的表层。折叠是她语言的核心，它将对立悬置而不被调和，美与不适、诱惑与排斥、真实与虚构同时存在。

乌季宁的作品并非直白。她揭示了光鲜表面之下的脆弱。那些用于表达难以言说之物的色彩和层层结构，并非掩盖，而是放大。她的绘画既充满情色意味，又带有幽暗、肉身化的质感，同时令人恐惧又引发欲望。作品的语言具有颠覆性，初看光滑美丽，但其令人惊诧的内在特质会逐渐显现。

本次展览将乌季宁90年代确立折叠与垂坠语言的作品与近期创作并置呈现。观众得以看到一种表达方式在时间中的延展与深化，持续运作的无意识语言既越界又令人慰藉。乌季宁的创作体系已准备好被新一代艺术家与观众重新语境化，户尔空间荣幸成为这一对话发生的舞台。

Marianna Uutinen’s practice is grounded in process-based abstraction. Painting is approached as a material event rather than an image. Working primarily with acrylic, she pours and spreads paint in thin layers, often onto plastic, allowing it to dry into flexible skins that can be peeled, dragged, folded, and mounted. The result is surprising, it’s neither painting nor sculpture alone; it moves off the stretcher and into space, insisting on surface as something active, physical, and transgressively corporal.

The title of her newest exhibition,Who’s Afraid of Red Stains and Yellow Snow?, is a deliberately contaminated echo of a canonical modernist statement about the autonomy of painting. Uutinen’s attacks on surface show us what’s hidden, a whiff of what we would otherwise never smell. “Yellow Snow” functions as a dry, pointed adjustment of modernist purity: a reminder that surface is never innocent, and that what appears pristine can be altered, chemically, culturally, psychologically, often by contact alone.

In the big flesh-pink work titled Tonic, the color and plasticity leave the frame and envelop the viewer. Huge folds of flesh cover one another, overtake each other like waves. The color of wilting flowers so infatuating, it’s nearly sickening. It sucks you into its folds. The paintings’ sexuality bursts into life, their materiality is human, a poem of cracking, undulating skin.

Uutinen’s practice is built on the conviction that everything eventually erupts to the surface, the undercurrents of meaning laid bare. Her work is connected to the gestural, the unconscious. The painting’s surface liberates the mind, it’s where the ego goes to die. This approach, which may initially read as slick, fashionable, even too much, is precisely the point. In a present shaped by digital smoothness and surveillance, where the boundaries between artificial and real blur and experience is increasingly performed through images, her work breaks open what has been closed off. The fold is central to this vocabulary: it holds oppositions in suspension without resolving them. Beauty and discomfort, the desirable and repulsive, real and fictive.

The work shown isn’t straightforward. Uutinen uncovers vulnerability behind polished surfaces. The colors, all the layers used to express the unspeakable, don’t hide but amplify it. Her works are erotic but they also have a darker, carnal quality. She frightens and arouses simultaneously. The painting’s language is subversive; beautiful and slick at first, the delayed appearance of their nature is surprising.

The work Float, shown in the Nordic Pavilion of the 1997 Biennale, invokes the shed skin of some kind of being. The muddy folds and creases give no indication of its characteristics. Without gender and author, it stands by itself, a trace of something else entirely. Going to the studio every day to rip something out of the paintings, Uutinen’s works speak of something intensely personal, yet not of herself. The story told instead is one of wounds and tears, of its own landscape, the humanity contained within the paintings.

This exhibition brings together works from the 1990s, when Uutinen developed the draped, folded language central to her oeuvre, and shows them side by side with recent paintings. To see a language, a way of expression that speaks so clearly, extended through time. We are confronted with the continuation of an unconscious vocabulary that’s been consistently transgressive yet comforting. Uutinen’s body of work is ready to be re-contextualized for a younger generation of artists and viewers. Hua International is honored to be the stage on which this happens.