TEXT: MAGNUS BONS, APRIL 15 2025
https://www.dn.se/kultur/naturromantiska-tablaer-i-nya-imponerande-former/
Roland Persson is known for his dextrous use of silicon, the material he colours and casts to produce his painterly and exceedingly realistic sculptures. This process, which emerged gradually through ongoing experimentation and has enabled him to emulate so many materials, has not only led to an expanded—and still expanding—visual vocabulary, but also intensified the work’s affective impact. Whether used to replicate the lingering aura of the labour embodied in the wooden posts specifically adapted to sustain the horse’s head or other details that, in conveying compassion and skill, enable the dead horse to project this quiet dignity, his works hold the power to effect the viewer’s outlook. These features, thus, surprise, disconcert, prompt attentive observation, trigger half-forgotten memories, all of which can stimulate ongoing contemplation.
Persson is not a moralist or soothsayer, but an artist whose works are more about raising questions, than providing answers. Recognising that the world in which we live can confound, or even shock us, in many ways, he seems to want to remind us that our familiar routines are merely a bubble of security, which can be disrupted at any time. Sometimes these disruptions occur far away, in places we will never visit, and sometimes they hit close to home, turning things upside down. Though we, who live in the Nordic countries, are only marginally affected by conflicts raging elsewhere, the exhibition, nevertheless, includes History of Violence (2013). This work, which spotlights such a book, one that chronicles an unfortunate aspect of being human, simultaneously references one of war’s prime consequences—displacement. But here, that phenomenon is manifested in a remarkably succinct and understated way.
Isolated within the so-called neutral space of the gallery, the artist’s works take on a chimerical ambiance. Consider Old Lovers (2023), for example. The title points to a matter that is highly personal, often deemed to be intrusive or, in some circles, remains a forbidden topic. Certainly, the title and objects he’s portrayed will generate much curiosity. But as clues regarding who, where and when are absent, what might that pile of mattresses and stones actually by expressing? However, the other works in the exhibition—It’s Only Logic (2023), a collection of jars holding discoloured liquid and preserved (or slowly decomposing) sea horses, and the horse lying on a piano in The Magical Moment of Silence (2025)—may seem even more unfathomable. To what do they pertain?
The former work, which appears to be a misguided attempt at preservation, prompts a predictable reaction, What is the logic in It’s Only Logic? Surely, the act of preparing the containers did make sense for someone at some point in time, but who and where and in what circumstances?
In contrast, the horse’s condition offers no proof of being injured, ill, left to starve or having succumbed to some form of trauma. Moreover, the body’s placement demonstrates judicious handling, especially whit the realisation that its position on the instrument provides maximum support for the animal’s large frame. Ensuring that the head and body are planar strongly suggests the arrangement holds meaning. It’s as if those who positioned it—elevated it—possibly to ensure the mutual gaze between human and animal, deemed it essential. Perhaps that applies to showing one’s respect, recognising its status, or role as a loyal and hardworking creature. Practices conceived to honour the dead, to console us, also help preserve the deceased’s memory.
In a recent interview, Persson said: “I see the human being as one who really tries to make things better, who tries to help things heal, but who also continues to screw things up. That’s how we do things. I think that my sculpture reveals the ongoing cycle of revival, destruction, revival. We give things water, but the cactus receives too much and the water lily too little. We continue to try things, and we also continue to fail. I don’t know if this is a pessimistic or optimistic way of seeing things.”[1] These words suggest the artist is an attentive observer and a realist; one who is prone to contemplating our essence through what we do. Encountering Persson’s sculptures reminds us of how life is lived, and that our impulses and concerns are shared. One potential consequence of developing a greater awareness of such things is that they will reinvigorate our perspectives. And such realizations can engender more personal magical moments of silence.
[1] Gayer, J., Positive Negatives: A Conversation with Roland Persson, Sculpture Magazine, vol. 44, no. 3, May/June 2025, pp. 45-46.
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