Thinking about Excess

I have been thinking about Genevieve Figgis’ work lately. Every time I see the work, I keep thinking about Europe. It’s no surprise that Genevieve is Irish and lives and works in Ireland. There is something about the operatic scale of the painting’s settings that feel distinctly European. Even though the scale of the actual paintings is small- the scenes feel expansive.

Genevieve’s work has this creepy sensibility, like a bygone party where everyone’s faces have been melted off, or their bodies are in slow decay. It’s partly bc of her painting technique, which is goopy and wet. She paints wet onto wet and does them in one go.

I keep thinking about Mrs. Habersham in Great Expectations. Genevieve’s sets feel like settings where everyone is dressed up with great expectations for a great party, event or entertainment and suddenly everyone who was supposed to be part of the show is gone…except the expectant attendees. They look out, poised for a photo or aware that are the subjects of the gaze. They are on display. But who are they waiting for? The party attendees, a photographer? Their expectation and acceptance of being the subject of the gaze is part of their joy. This is why they are dressed up and posed in ridiculous formal, still poses. The servants and audience have themselves melted or disappeared, only to leave the party goers left in their party frocks, to melt away in their opulent settings.

The work and their titles reference19th c painters: Goya, Fragonard, Manet, etc. But these paintings are more brightly saturated, the brushstrokes fast and evident: as if, with the painting of the subjects in such a fast manner, we get the moment of the scene, before the subjects melt away. There is an urgency in describing them before they give themselves over to become zombies, or melt into each other or die from the disease that plagues them.

The work is deliciously creepy. It feels like a scene from a Gothic novel, or a horror film. The elite, the priviledged have met their slow doom in their beautiful setttings. The buildings or places in nature withstand the gesture of Genevieve’s paint, and themselves seemly will forever stand, waiting for their next macabre actors.