Brook Hsu dispiega e intreccia nei suoi dipinti l’autobiografico e il mitopoietico utilizzando materiali di vario genere, tra cui inchiostro, pittura ad olio, moquette e ritagli di legname industriale. Le immagini di Hsu provengono dalle sue stesse osservazioni e traggono spunto dalla storia dell’arte, del cinema e della letteratura. Lavorando tra pittura, disegno, scultura e scrittura, le opere di Hsu mirano a mettere in discussione il modo in cui oggi intendiamo la rappresentazione. Creando lavori tra l’astratto e il figurativo, contenenti innumerevoli segni e soggetti, l’artista narra storie di amore, dolore e umorismo. Hsu dice della sua pratica: “Cerco di capire cosa apprezziamo nella vita domandando come valutiamo il mondo”.
‘…classical stories about lovers…No kisses, nothing of that sort…It was all so pure! That’s why they are famous…feelings that cannot be given form are never forgotten… ’
He raises his head and sniffs the air like an animal. ‘Here it’s like in Russia. I don’t know why…You know, there is a joke.’ He suddenly switches into Russian. ‘One bloke’s pulling another bloke out of a huge, deep pool of shit …He was almost choking… But he pulls him out, risking his own life…So there they are, lying on the edge of the revolting bog, and panting…they’re both worn out…finally the one who was pulled out asks with a funny look: “What was that for? Why did you pull me out?”
“What do you mean why? I saved you,” says the rescuer, puzzled.
“You idiot,” the rescued man says, terribly offended. “You idiot, that’s my home.” Gorchakov laughs out loud with glee. ‘But of course you don’t understand a thing…’
and he continues in his wretched Italian: ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Marco,’ answers the boy, uncertainly.
‘’at’s the stuff; Are you happy?…’
‘Life…life… of course I am.’
Gorchakov lies on the ground and gazes up at the cold and clear autumn sky. Nearby,
in the fire, glows his forgotten book of poetry… 1