At the Galleries: Ivanco Talevski at the Pajama Factory

Even with the predicted storm looming, there still was a strong turnout at the Pajama Factory for First Friday. One of the vendors, Chef Ann Hosch Catering, 520 Vernon Ave., who gave away delicious, free samples of pasta and rice at their table, said they served 500 people.

Understandably, the Lewisburg crowd, who had helped to make the December First Friday such a hit, was mostly absent due to the weather.

But it's safe to say that the "Floating Gallery" was a great success. Its' exhibition, organized by Chad Andrews and Marshall Harris, was strong and diverse, providing, as Andrews said, "Something to love, something to be intrigued by and something to dislike."

My "something to love" was Ivanco Talevski's prints.

"Self Portrait"

In Dante's "Inferno," in the ninth circle of hell, sinners who were "guilty of treachery against those to whom they were bound by special ties" are stuck in a frozen lake for eternity. The logic goes that since they harmed the ones they were closest to - and cut their "special ties" - that they should be bound together by ice forever.

When I saw Ivanco Talevski's "Self Portrait" at the Pajama Factory, it reminded me of Dante's frozen sinners.

There are two bodies in the picture, the one to the right is trapped upside down and the one to the left is trapped right side up.

The one to the left has his upper torso exposed, much like Dante's evildoers who have their heads and shoulders above the ice (at one point, Dante accidentally kicks one of them). But contrary to Dante's damned, the man appears stoic rather than tortured, as if he's where he should be.

The fact that the piece is titled "Self Portrait" and that each body lacks what the other has, suggests that both bodies are of the same person, only split.

If we look at this with Dante in mind, the tie Talevski has severed is one with himself.

And while the body to the left looks rather serene, the lines around the body to the right read as a struggle; they're hurried, tangled and violent, as if the body is fighting to get free.

This upside-down figure is a motif in Talevski's works. And any time an artist keeps going back to one thing, it's safe to assume that this image holds special meaning for him. For me, having one's head buried in the ground brings to mind the film "Murder in the First," where Kevin Bacon's character, Henri Young, was held in an isolation chamber for three years and two months. It gives me a feeling of horrible darkness, of being confined.

What saves me from Talevski's bleak imagery, however, is that his compositions thrive with life.

In "Landscape," for example (pictured at left), the busy lines, which only become wholly visible when one is close to the work, make the image bustle. So, even though the figure, again, appears staid, the line-work and the harsh contrasts say otherwise. They give the work literary depth and emotional gravity and make you wonder "Who is this man?" and "What is he feeling?" Has the burning building made him so sad that he's defeated? Or is he relieved?

The Kills, a contemporary rock band, have a song, "The Good Ones," in which they sing, "Once in a while, once in a while, you got to burn down your house, keep your dreamin' alive."

This lyric grants some insight into Talevski's work: There's always a burning intensity somewhere, but it's usually looked over by a peaceful - or indifferent or sad - figure, immune to the drama and unaffected by what's going on. Kind of like ice in hell.