Beneath the surface that makes up the tangible world "we know that there is something else, a dark matter that shapes our lives and our actions, our interactions with the world in which we live," the artist tells us. A set of large paintings, like lights expanded in an infinite landscape, will articulate the exhibition route of Liliane Tomasko's proposal at the CAB. Along with them, a series of vertical paintings affect what we are, what we have, what we feel and what we want; while another set of works inquires more decidedly into the world of dreams. This recourse to the unconscious submerged in the dream, but also to its most emotional and sensitive part, is plastically resolved in a painting in which the lines go beyond the surface and resemble a panorama open to the interior structure of thought. “The subconscious is, to say the least, an unstable beast, and it doesn't want to be reasoned with or conquered, but wants us to acknowledge its existence and hear its song, engage with it, and give it a voice,” Tomasko muses.
The night and the dream associated with it emerge as a pictorial territory traversed by a warp magma, tangled and feverish at times, detained and expectant at others. The generous lines that seem to hold everything that happens inside the painting like a net resemble a neural map connected only in its most irrational part. Each gesture, each stain, each scratch in Tomasko's paintings evidences our same cerebral scratches only revealed in states of mental suspension. “Every night we have the opportunity to immerse ourselves and connect with what we know is there, but that eludes our need to define and name it, to take ownership of it, to bring it to the community that we all share,” explains Liliane Tomasko.
Although in her first work the proximity to the figure was still perceptible, in the works that Tomasko presents at the CAB it is only possible to construct an approximate account after identifying the titles assigned to the paintings. Name me not ["don't name me", but also "don't tell me anything"] suggests a shadowy, ambiguous universe and a point of fear that the artist places in the realm of the unfathomable, of the captive, of an interior that is only possible to show with the force, decision and dynamism of a vital painting and by transcendent force with which the author interrogates us: don't we urgently need to address the question of the self, of who and what we are?