Jayson Oliveria’s Painter’s Block strips the artistic process and its aftereffects to its bare bones, revealing its peculiarities and discrepancies to its viewers. Witty quips and jabs are thrown at his own creative production through pieces that highlight repetition, erasures and layers which seem merely instinctive at first but recognized as deliberate upon closer inspection, as well as its audiences through works that take off from commentaries on art.
Questions and ideas on originality and creativity are also touched upon through its deconstruction and in turn a construction of his own definitions. The 7-feet bad copy “Boy” turns monumental the original painting bought from the thrift shop for P500, presumed to be done by a high school student for a school requirement on religion or good manners.
Oliveria exhausts painting as a form of a particular stature and history, and uncloaks the sarcastic irony beneath its glorification through an emphasis on mundane references and imagery. Although decidedly oblique in his manner of revelation, the puns remain exacting with its claims left for visitors to fully decipher.
Evident as well is the awareness of his position as a producer, in his ability to draw humor from the supposed seriousness in discerning art. A striking thread of distinct rawness in the works displays an understanding of the landscape on which his practice is grounded upon. A clever remark on the somber method of meaning-making, art is turned askew, leaving more doubt than answers. (IF)