Péter Fitz* Mr. Nánay turns fifty I have known Szilamér Nánay for quite some time now. Our friendship began around 1968 or 1969 when he was in the third grade at the Secondary School of Applied Arts. This was the perfect moment for making friends, as regards both our age and the times. The end of puberty is witness to the formation of lasting friendships in every period of history, but the late sixties was an especially advantageous time for this. Even though the events of history do not necessarily attest to it, for some inexplicable reason, there was a sense of total freedom in the air: books, films and exhibitions — public events and events that were more or less secret. The world suddenly opened up. As a matter of fact, even in hindsight I am not exactly sure whether all this was to due to youth or there actually was a fresh new spirit pervading the city. Along with beat music concerts, there were other forms of art that also seemed explosively new — they stood for something that was about us. What is most curious in all of this is that it was the field of the applied arts that provided the least thrills, the least publicly visible excitement. Yet this period was, without doubt, one in which forgotten (repressed) former times were discovered and brought to the surface again. From Kassák, through the European School, domestic modernism became accessible exactly at the end of the late 60s/early. 70s. These circumstances were also present throughout our studies in the higher grades of education. Though the world was full of impulses, it is also true to say that the majority of these were most evident in the fields of literature, film and beat music. This seemingly flourishing period came to a close right about the time when — in the middle of it — we left the halls of higher education, with myself finishing my studies slightly earlier than Szilamér Nánay. By the second half of the 70s the public and visible opportunities of art became severely restricted. At the same time, the ways of circumventing this problem were established in the form of a system based on the creative colonies of artists. In addition, the experimental possibilities that lay in the various forms of art offered much more freedom of movement in the fields outside the group of the so-called »grand arts«. One of the most significant of the above-mentioned group was the textile arts. Coexisting with its official counterpart and finding ways of bypassing it, a new system was born. This system was exemplified by the »experimental« textile workshop in Velem, and by the fact that the strictness that was characteristic of the grand arts did not characterise the biannual textile festivals in Szombathely. Official attention disciplined the applied arts; and the works, which were borne out of the artistic efforts of those who were sensitively tuned to the world and the times, were barred from public display. Yet at the same time (in my view, out of negligence and ignorance) cultural policy gave a free hand to those progressive artistic forms of expression that were appearing under the designation of the applied arts. This is what led to the thriving of a host of art forms in fields ranging from ceramic to textile art. Another curious aspect of this »disorganisation in cultural policy« was geography. Anything that was of note happened a long way from the centres, in places like Velem, Makó, Villány, Kecskemét, Siklós, and later Dunaújváros, Nagyatád and Gyôr. These were all places where the »cultural authorities« could only get to late, or when it was too late. Fortunately, art is an agile thing, and so scores of artists opted for those opportunities for expression that gave them a freer and more open set of choices. Szilamér Nánay graduated from the Hungarian Academy of Applied Arts as a textile major. The period of his starting out coincided with the golden age of Hungarian textile art. This glorious era was perceivable in many ways; it could be felt at exhibitions, in workshops and of course in the multitude of objects created around that time. This period saw the birth of a host of formal and material novelties. The interiors of the growing number of public buildings offered a new set of challenges to textile art as well. But in order to meet these challenges the conventional concepts of textiles had to be transcended. One of the most clear-cut changes in perspective came from the idea of the space textile. Even though the notion was not Hungarian in origin (as it arose simultaneously in France and Poland), the circumstances in Hungary made its use well suited to the times. Space textiles are no longer mere wall decorations. As works of art in their own right they also define the space that surrounds them. The first phase of the emergence of the space textile form produced pieces, in the arts-and-crafts, which fulfilled the new function of partitioning and defining space. Yet this entry into space carried with it numerous implications which, in an irreversible process, made this new interpretation of the textile arts an issue of topical interest. Space textiles grew ever larger, evermore colourful, and also utilised an increasing number of new technical and formal elements. In the process they became rather more like sculptures (made out of some special material) than tapestries. This change in perspective with respect to function, however, was realised in a somewhat lopsided way. While textile artists did in effect create works that were up to this new transformed role, the actual architectural utilisation of these items was quite rare. For this reason, the invitation for the 1980 Biannual Textile Festival in Szombathely, entitled ± Gobelin, had a programme which sought to widen the range of participants. “The starting point is an explicit query. At the VI Biannual Wall & Space Textiles Festival, Gobelin — that representative, well?established art form, which requires an extraordinary amount of manual energy and the investment of a lot of effort, and which has also been for centuries the embodiment and symbol of textile art — must be given the chance to prove whether or not it is still capable of renewal, of producing a true impression and whether it has an audience even today. Moreover, it must carve out its own niche, function and role in modern textile arts.” Gobelin art succeeded in breaking out of the basically genreless sphere of the »woven painting«. The intellectual achievements of the new textile movement in the 70s became a part of tapestry art as well — either consciously or unintentionally. This was the period when it became evident that progressive Gobelin artists had forged ahead. N ánay started his career as a weaver which, as it is clear from the above, was a rather modern and clear decision to make at that particular moment. His representative début took place at the aforementioned Biannual Textile Festival in Szombathely, entitled ± Gobelin, which means that at the start of his career he was part of the exact cherished moment that serves as the date for the domestic rebirth of the art of tapestry. Strangely enough, the fact that Nánay was present at that moment was not what played an important role in his artistic career, as that honour is due to the piece he presented at the Festival. The relatively small, 100 x 100 centimetre Gobelin, borne out of a combination of techniques and romantically entitled Recalling One’s First Love, depicted a halved apple?shape. The seed?shape visible in the apple’s core was to evolve into a principal motif over the following decade. There is another, possibly more abstract, conclusion to be drawn from the lessons of tapestry making. It is that Gobelin weaving is ultimately based on the layout of a raster?structure. The vertical order of the warping threads and the weft crossing them — from a geometrical standpoint — forms a dense raster grid. This raster structure is constantly present in Nánay’s oeuvre as a defining motif. In some places it divides the image area in an intricate system of streaks, while in others it serves as the background and sometimes is the principal element of image creation itself. In this respect, it is utterly irrelevant what forms the image? creating forces manifest themselves in: carpets, tapestry, graphics or a painting for that matter. Another constantly present motif, the punched card, also dates back to this early period. This image element is thought provoking in that it, too, is connected to the raster grid. Furthermore, there is also a substantial and an historical connection between weaving, the Hollerith?card (as the ancestral computer) and the pre? PC era. Nánay employs the punched card or tape rather consistently as the motif of the world to come. In the 80s this motif also emerges in other places in Hungarian painting, but to the best of my knowledge various artists utilised it quite independently of each other. The Nánay?esque image types of the 80s (be they panel paintings, carpets or tapestry) are variations of these two principal elements — the emotional charge of each element being in opposite relation to that of the other. The intensely biological seed?shape, which often elongates into a droplet is, if not almost human, certainly a rather humanely charged shape. This is combined with the mechanical, slightly futuristic element that is the punched tape. In early pieces in the series the composition of the ancestral halved apple also makes itself felt on occasion as an allusion to the original starting point. It persists in the images for a long time, albeit in an increasingly abstract way, as an evermore enigmatic detail. The ramifications of these three fundamental elements are extraordinarily manifold from an image potential viewpoint. Organic shapes are consciously contrasted with rigid, geometrical, quasi?engineering?like shapes. The place where the main stress is laid constantly varies. Correspondingly, the compositions — made from identical image?building blocks — yield extremely diverse results. The spectator somehow gets the impression that it is primarily the multi?dimensional world and the multifarious quality of the image that drives the artist who, at the same time, attempts to assert this multi? dimensionality by making use of a sparse number of puritan devices. Beginning in the late 80s, the droplet? shape and the raster? motif both begin to fade and give way to much more relaxed and more picturesque elements. Large, colourful amorphous shapes make up the body of the image, the base. Yet the contrast? effect remains, even if it is not always achieved by the use of the raster grid or the quadratic lattice but by minute hatching. Large shapes are painted on top of, and tiny line?orders — which almost have a life of their own — are roughly applied. The series became increasingly mature, and the hatching itself also changed a great deal. A quasi?rune?like, relaxed system of symbols is born, which gradually becomes amorphous. First it appears together with the hatching — next to it or above it — then it slowly and imperceptibly usurps its role. The large shapes — becoming increasingly saturated — and the hatched, written images, characteristic of the late 80s and early 90s, tell of a painter’s attitude that is in complete harmony with the new wave of painting in the period. The essential difference between the works of Nánay and those of others is related to size. In spite of the fact that monumental?size canvasses served as a very common tool for painters in the eighties, Nánay did not make use of such pretentious devices. Although this may have been due to practical reasons, such obstacles are usually surmountable. So one has to infer that this moderation with respect to size was borne out of a conscious decision. W ork on the series, entitled The Fiction of an Alternative Evolution, began in the 90s and it significantly transformed Nánay’s image?creating set of tools. The background surfaces that had been heavily worked upon previously are much more calm and balanced. Here, they are more like colour? fields, peculiar heavenly plains, which are sea? deep and broken up by a buoyant line of waves and loops. The raster motifs appear once again, profoundly transformed, creating minute forms, and writhing like amoebae. They float almost Miró?esque, adorned with tiny calligraphic motifs. The rune?like motifs also remain, although this time round their earlier role of providing a surface gives way to a much more prominent position: some of these symbols protrude, get enlarged and become the principal element of the image. It was also this decade that saw the world of colours become more pronounced and bright. Dark?blues; strident red loops and slashing arcs against a background of explicit greens; bright?yellow hatch?clouds alternating with orange amoebae and map?like bounteous greens. This powerful use of colour is once more moderated at the end of the 90s, but in a quite different way. Its intensity lingers on, but the number of colours used in the latest works diminishes. Blue in blues, blue and red, green and black. In the current pieces this reduction not only applies to the colours, but to the way the piece is composed and to the realm of the motifs as well. The shapes that appear are iconographically clearer than they once were, and are set against an image area that is more homogenous than ever before. There is an outstanding balance between the minimalist shapes, and the spaces are endowed with a transcendental depth. Indeed, the overall surreal effect of the images cannot be directly deduced from the order of motifs, yet its presence is unquestionable. It is, without doubt, the artist’s worldview and pictorial spirit that contribute this nearly indefinable layer to his works of art. T he notion of multiple genres plays a significant role in Nánay’s oeuvre. In the first half of his career the role of textiles was just as important as that of painting. The threads that intertwined these two types of creative actions were numerous. The difference between the two was diminutive; it only applied to the material used. Later, this parallelism became less intense. The carpets and paintings created in the 80s only exhibit a distant relationship. The textile pieces were still characterised by a lavish use of raster grids while, with respect to painting, the master was already preoccupied with something different. His graphic work, however, still ran in parallel with the pictorial essence. The fourth dimension in Nánay’s art, poster? designing (only loosely connected to the previous three activities), is best typified by visual humour and visual creativity, and has relatively few connections with the artist’s sovereign image?creating work. I t is of course hard to briefly summarise several decades of an artist’s oeuvre — an attempt which is made all the more complicated by a friendship that has been just as long?standing — as personal relationships and objectivity sometimes work against each other. Nonetheless, I believe that — beyond this piece of writing — the pictures in this album will speak for themselves. * Péter Fitz, art historian, director of the Museum of Kiscell (Budapest) 1 Kisfaludy György: Kritikátlan kételkedés, Ufómagazin, 2001. február, 25. o. 2 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 16. rész: Az anyag nem kompakt színuszhullámokból áll, Esélyadók, 1996. április, 16. o. 3 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 18. o. 4 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 17. o. 5 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 19. rész: Az anyag nem kompakt színuszhullámokból áll, Esélyadók, 1996. július, 10. o. 6 Fritjof Capra: A fizika taoja, Budapest, 223. o. 7 Fritjof Capra: i. m. 223?24. o. 8 Fritjof Capra: i. m. 221?22. o. 9 René Guenon: A modern világ válsága. A kereszt szimbolikája, Az ôshagyomány könyvei IV., Budapest, 170. o., 5. jegyzet 10 René Guenon: i. m. 170. o. 11 Mitológiai enciklopédia I., Budapest, 1988, 78. o. 12 Az Aikido esszenciája. Uesiba Morihei szellemi tanitásai. Összeállította: John Stevens, Budapest, 1998. 23., 26. o. 13 Szepes Erika: Hekaté: A hármasság mint a bölcsesség alapegysége. Jel és közösség, Budapest, 1975. 111. o. 14 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 18. rész: Mibôl állhat az anyag? Esélyadók, 1996. június, 11. o. 15 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 18. o. 16 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 18. o. 17 Su questa terra desolata... Antologia di poesie ungheresi del Novecento, Szeged, 1994. 18 G. R. Wave?T. Z. Marshall (Kisfaludy György): Az energia titka, Porta Sacra, Filozófiai beszélgetések a megnyilvánult jelenségek hullámvilágáról, Budapest, 1984?1994. 363, 361. o. 19 G. R. Wave?T. Z.Marshall (Kisfaludy György): Az energia titka, Porta Sacra, Filozófiai beszélgetések a megnyilvánult jelenségek hullámvilágáról, Budapest, 1984?1994. 344. o. 20 James Gleick: Káosz, Egy új tudomány születése, Budapest, 2000. 35. o. 21 James Gleick: i. m. 35. o. 22 James Gleick: i. m. 117. o. 23 Szepes Mária: Álomszótár, Budapest, 1989. 41. o. 24 Szepes Mária: i.m. 41. o. 25 Szepes Mária: i.m. 41. o. 26 Az Aikido esszenciája. Uesiba Morihei szellemi tanításai. Összeállította: John Stevens, Budapest, 1998. 22?23. o. 27 G. R. Wave?T. Z. Marshall (Kisfaludy György): Az energia titka, Porta Sacra, Filozófiai beszélgetések a megnyilvánult jelenségek hullámvilágáról, Budapest, 1984?1994. 51. o., 2. 6. ábra; Kisfaludy György: A teremtés üzenete, Budapest, 1991. 22. o., 2. 8. ábra. 28 Kisfaludy György: A lélek zengése a dinamikus hullámgeometria tükrében, Budapest, 1998. 19. o. 29 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 20. o. 30 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 21. o. 31 G. R. Wave?T. Z. Marshall (Kisfaludy György): Az energia titka, Porta Sacra, Filozófiai beszélgetések a megnyilvánult jelenségek hullámvilágáról, Budapest, 1984?1994, 364. o. 32 Kisfaludy György: A lélek zengése a dinamikus hullámgeometria tükrében, Budapest, 1998. 22. o. 33 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 4. rész: A víz (Purusa), Esélyadók, 1995. március, 16. o. 34 Kisfaludy György: A teremtés üzenete, Budapest, 1991. 22. o. 35 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 4. rész: A víz (Purusa), Esélyadók, 1995. március, 16. o. 36 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 5. rész: A tűz elsô meggyújtása, Esélyadók, 1995. április, 15. o.; Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 7. rész: A téridô megszületése, Esélyadók, 1995. június 16.o. 37 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 15.o.; Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 7. rész: A téridô megszületése, Esélyadók, 1995. június 16. o. 38 Kisfaludy György: A lélek zengése a dinamikus hullámgeometria tükrében, Budapest. 1998. 22. o. 39 Kisfaludy György: A teremtés üzenete, Budapest, 1991., 40., 42. o.; G. R. Wave?T. Z. Marshall (Kisfaludy György): Az energia titka, Porta Sacra, Filozófiai beszélgetések a megnyilvánult jelenségek hullámvilágáról, Budapest, 1984?1994. 52. o., 2. 7. ábra, 84. o., 3. 13. ábra. 40 Kisfaludy György: A lélek zengése a dinamikus hullámgeometria tükrében, Budapest, 1998. 30., 33. o. 41 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 9. rész: A fény kvantumai, Az energia második alakja, Esélyadók, 1995. augusztus, 12. o. 42 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 12. o. 43 Kisfaludy György: A forrás, 12. rész: Fény és anyag, Esélyadók, 1995. november, 14. o. 44 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 14.o. 45 Kisfaludy György: A teremtés üzenete, Budapest, 1991. 38?41. o. 46 Kisfaludy György: A lélek zengése a dinamikus hullámgeometria tükrében, Budapest. 1998. 32. o. 47 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 33. o. 48 Kisfaludy György: i. m. 33. o. 49 G. R. Wave?T. Z. Marshall (Kisfaludy György): Az energia titka, Porta Sacra, Filozófiai beszélgetések a megnyilvánult jelenségek hullámvilágáról, Budapest, 1984?1994. 355. o.