A reflection piece on Mustafa Hulusi's Exstacy Almond Blossom 8 (2008). Hulusi is a conceptual artist based in London who works with paintings, videos, photographs, etc.
As I picked up my chopsticks, ready to devour the soybean paste stew and the deliciously seasoned pollack roe, I made eye contact with the piece again. I poked and cracked open an innocent-looking cod egg to distract myself, but the magnetic force of the piece hauntingly dragged my pupils across, forcing me to keep the artwork near the corner of my eye. I finally surrendered, sacrificed my full attention, and stared at the artwork––a cryptic painting that entwines geometric illusions with pulchritudinous blossoms.
My mom’s obsession with Mustafa Hulusi has gotten worse. Once a month, a group of picture hangers barges in without my permission and spoils my Sunday mornings with the ear-splitting sound of screwdrivers and clattering nails. But this particular Sunday, an unconventional painting of oleander flowers and bursting abstractions fills the white space on our dining room walls. I’m fairly used to Hulusi’s overly-colorful sculptures, odd photographs, and eerie films. But something about this newcomer arrests my gaze. The untainted bloom, rendered against bright blue skies, and the psychedelic tunnel patterns harmoniously meshes together. But when I pictured the two components of the artwork as separate paintings, the flowers on the right became a boring, mediocre reflection of nature, and the black-and-white spirals on the left held no more value than a bland optical illusion for children.
As I scooped up the last bits of rice, I asked Mom, “So, what’s this one all about?” Mom carefully placed her chopsticks down and cleared her throat as if she was preparing to give a lecture: “Well, I think the messy left-hand side reflects our outer self while the calm flowers on the right reflect our inner self. Someone can get grumpy, depressed, or violent sometimes but as humans, we all have love on the inside. We are all warm on the inside.” I hesitantly nodded. “I can see that.” No, not really. I didn’t see that at all. In fact, it was the complete opposite.
For me, the intricate network of monochrome lines represents the inner self while the hyper-realistic blossoms depict the outer self. On the outside, we often project a calm and organized version of ourselves while on the inside, we drown in uncertainty and struggle to process our emotions. I, myself, am a victim of this syndrome––a plague that chips away at my true identity. I’m like a helpless fetus, aggressively kicking on the walls of the womb but struggling to break free from this sac of superficiality. Perhaps, the guilt associated with the new drawing makes the piece so powerful and intrusive.
Art is not real. The careful strokes of a brush and the fine details of a petal are lies, chapters of a fantasy. Still, the fictional nature of art can ironically help us unravel the truth. For instance, Hulusi’s diverse epochs of aesthetics illustrate the dichotomy of our present condition. We simultaneously embody our drive towards comfort and destruction by cultivating a culture of misery.
On Easter Sunday, a documentary on minimalism reminded me of Hulusi. Showing Mom a photo of Exstacy Almond Blossom 8, I asked her, “Do the flowers still represent the warmth of humanity?” After taking a sip of wine to gather her thoughts, Mom replied: “Of course, what else could it mean?” I smiled, already having expected her answer. “Well, the complex patterns could also reflect our inside. Not sure. That’s just what I think.” And perhaps, that’s the beauty of art: a platform for unlimited interpretation that helps us see the truth––or at least, our versions of the truth.
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