- Dates
- 11 March 2009 – 11 April 2009
- Venue
- Godot Galéria · 1075 Budapest, Madách út 8.
- Press contact
- [email protected]
Short listing
An exhibition pulled from the original archive of the Godot Gallery.
Full exhibition text
Ilus in the courtyard, oil on canvas, 2009
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The Godot Gallery respectfully invites you.
Imre Bukta
Excursion: Sükő (Hargita County, Romania)
to its double exhibition titled ___
Vilma oil, canvas, 2009
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Ericsson Gallery
1037 in Budapest, Laborc Street 1.
www.ericsson.com/hu
Opening: on 11 March 16.30
Openings: Zoltán Vécsi Nagy, art historian
Open: until April 18 on weekdays between 8 and 17 o’clock.
Godot Gallery
1075 Budapest, Madách út 8
archive.godot.hu
Opening: on March 11 at 19.00
Opening: Zoltán Vécsi Nagy, art historian
Open for viewing: from Tuesday to Friday to 11 in April 10 to 18, on Saturday between 10 and 13.
The two exhibitions showcase the artist's latest drawings and paintings, inspired by a few weeks spent in the Transylvanian village of Sükő.
Excerpt from Zoltán Vécsi Nagy's writing:
“…In Sükő there are no strangers, only so‑called residents. That’s what they call those who have moved here from the city. Us too. A few years ago a proud‑mouthed shepherd also went missing. His wife and two children are left. One of them is a sensible, tall son who would gladly attend school if his parents allowed it. He really needs it for work. He strolls down the street with his head held high. He is especially arrogant when he can even scratch his father's carved‑tongued stick. His little sister, that blow‑hard, practically causes people to go mad when she silently, with big eyes, smiles in a strange, mocking way, like an angel, innocent but all‑knowing. His belly is round, his shoulders are loose even in winter water. Not because of fashion. He doesn’t even know what fashion is. He says he isn’t cold. He doesn’t ask, but if he is given some food, he’ll gnaw it. After that his face, his clothes remain mask‑like. He is Timi. Bukta Imre painted him with balloons. When he sees the painting, he realises that the little girl really is that when she appears, as if she’s hovering a few centimetres above the sun‑lit dirt, or above snow that reaches her knees. Another Bukta painting comes to mind: it was of a little girl in a purple dress skating. This world really is small…
…Otherwise, the fiddlers are all good singers. In churches, in pubs, even in front of the wooden pavilion by the pond, they blow. They know everything: jazz, the classical, the chorale, hymns, folk songs, and Hungarian pop music, old and new, whatever. Everyone claims it as their own. Last time they started playing with the tape player, in its forced rapid rhythm. At first they just whistled and followed. Until, or until they beat the machine. With volume, but mainly with choice. And with spirit. On weekdays the pub is quiet; Bukta presents it as a meditative space, perhaps like the field’s boundaries. Quiet, with deep throats drifting above their worries, in circles of smoke, with a mixture of TV vibration and the light falling from the eaves, sparkling glasses, glassware. Light and a self‑transforming mood…
In the bót, oil, canvas, 2009
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Rockerek in the plumland: ink, pencil, watercolour, paper, 2009
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