one+last+time+now

There is something incredibly fragile about Gatsby's love for Daisy, which is mirrored in the Vija Celmin images. They both have this whimsical look on the surface but if you dig just a bit deeper there is a serious will underneath. Gatsby waits and waits and waits for Daisy. He is, and always will be the man who chased a love and never quite caught it.

It is hard to describe Vija Celmin's work. It is so painstakingly beautiful that it almost takes a minute to figure out what you're really seeing. They are almost a physical embodiment of love, each one looks like it has taken so long. They seem almost like they're going to blow away because they are so light and airy, the way, when you are holding a fluffy dandelion and you breathe a minute before you make your wish and all the little fluff blows away before you can finish your wish. Love has that quality as well, it seems as though it's always slipping away right before we can figure out a way to make it stay.

Celmin's work is almost a physical manifestation of Gatsby's love for Daisy. It has that same unattainable quality, as if these pictures are only dreams which can never be reached. And Gatsby's love is all consuming, in the end his love killes him. Celmin's prints of the night sky remind me of this, they are these tiny renderings of something much vaster. Both Celmin and Gatsby seem to try and create something (art and wealth) to capture something which would otherwise be impossible to achieve.

Continue down the hall Go back