The bathroom is a first part of a project in the frame of which Anna Solal decided to build a house, or rather its  equipment, for someone she doesn’t know.

Anna Solal: The Bathroom
July 16  - September 15, 2019 
FUTURA, Prague

 

La salle de bain    

I’m an attractive and intelligent, and it pleases me that I’m being watched. And if I happen to tell a lie or two from time to time,  it’s only so you don’t paint a bad picture of me​. (Orhan Pamuk: My name is Red)


The bathroom is a first part of a project in the frame of which Anna Solal decided to build a house, or rather its  equipment, for someone she doesn’t know. Using junk of the contemporary culture, objects from one euro shops,  industrial parts, different pieces of cheap plastic, broken smartphone screens. Those are however very laboriously  and in a somehow primitive way joint, assembled in new compositions, somehow 3D mosaics, in which their  identity is being to a certain extent lost, but with a bit of focus still recognisable. 
Certain concentration, but parallel distraction of her work is being projected also in the way we perceive the work  of Anna, how we are getting lost in the details, our sight jumping from one part to another. We can perceive the  character of the work and the used materials as a sort of abstraction of contemporary civilisation, its constant short  term distraction, lack of concentration, mass quantity but inability to include the whole. There is also something  rough and brutal on Anna's works, in the impudency, rudimentarity of the treatment, that follows the cheapness of  the original objects, but almost with somehow neurotic drive. Thousand times twisted threads, pieces of roller  bearings and belt studs, are somehow an allegoric depiction of our accelerated presence, the inability to cease, the  getting almost to a neurotic psychosis of a drug addict losing himself up to a total exhaustion in different details. 
The bathroom of Anna Solal is definitely an impoverished one. A small room, musty with dampness and sweet  smell of cheap perfume, stains of mold and bad colours of bad make-up. The beauty of the poor, too sweet, too  fake. There is something intimate in it, but also repulsive. Something used. It is as if we are facing leftovers of  what allowed us to put ourselves together. 
In the drawings of towels, clothes scattered on the floor, old tooth brushes and flinged shoes we again get to  somehow a neurotic, even hallucinatory point. The pedicure set transforms itself into a traffic jam and the back  view on a girl combing her hair in the repetition changes into some unclear nebula, color stain or a puddle of a body  liquid. The assembling and composing is therefore also possible to read as somehow an attempt to hold together a  harmony or a system in a situation, where the drive has liberated itself from original impulse and got into out of  control spiral. 

Michal Novotný

 

Photo: Tomas Souček