ALTHOUGH SOMW MAY THINK
That contemporary painting needs some kind of “vitamin”, the creators, beyond the anxiety caused by the vertigo of trends, are actually healthier than the stagnant critical discourse.
After decades of lectures about hybridisation or deconstruction, we are more than used to seeing work, such as Bill Thompson’s, that go well beyond orthodox modernity. Here there is no flatness or informalist gestualism.
Neither is it about a mimetic heir of minimalisation, that “international style” that turned frugality into the luck of dogma. His pieces, with special sensuality, hypnotise with the shine and curves, even inciting touch, toying with the aesthetics of monochromatics without suggesting there is anything like an absolute or philosophic sublimity behind his formal exactness.
Thompson is claiming a contemporary concept of beauty, that notion that became anathematised in modernity (that was eventually considered satanic or even ugly as keys to a decidedly melancholic mood or incapable of carrying on holding something up such as Utopia) to be claimed when awareness of post-history became more generalised.
Today we know that it is not an ornament, as was the aim of the architect Adolf Loos, “a crime” but that it contains one of the most intense forms of aesthetic pleasure. The work on paper exhibited by Ana Serratosa reveals that Bill Thompson is not only capable of creating these wonderful pieces that exceed the difference between painting, sculpture and installation, but is also capable of exploiting elegant imaginary to the maximum on an extremely contoured surface.
Flat colours in dialogue, without tension, like in a dance in which curves establish a beautiful dominion. Vaguely reminiscent of pop art and even a certain psychedelia expands in a chromatic party which, from its apparent simplicity teaches us that pleasure is a gift, a detail, a fulguration.