SEBASTIANCOLEGALVAN
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art@tian-studio.com
Skin Graphs (CGI) ((Working Title))
CGI lends itself as a tool to generate a hyperreality. One that fits expectations of grandiose spectacles, explosions, natural disasters, and astral phenomena. This extends beyond cinema, reinforcing a contrived perception of how things "feel." Galvan digitally simulates existential phenomena to capture unfeasible images. The gravitas assumed by the images is trivialized by being printed on malfunctioning laserjet printers and re-scanned. They pair these images with surreal depictions of flesh, with its layers between the epidermis peeled back, where melanin is concentrated but not limited to.
The distance between us so vast
It's all we can see
If we were a congregation of bats in flight in smokey
dusk skies
If we had sonar
could see beyond basic spectrums
If we were the miracle of clouds floating by
bloated with water, yet afloat in atmospheric blue
We might understand
Because we are terrestrial
Limited
Sensorially deprived
We feel only the absence,
Our imaginings at the door
Pounding
Cannot hear
The universe answer
Its so
Illoquial screed
At the other side
not trace, nor dotted line
Because of this
with whom we cluster
At an unfathomable distance
Two particles can be entangled
So is true of you
And me
You the pebble
You the ripple
You puddle
You dew
You sweat
You the physics
And between us
Dark
The things we cannot see
What is stretched across the ages
I the ripple
I the pond
I drop of rain
I the humidity
I the chemistry
Because of what you cannot see
And what I never know
My cause is beyond your effect
You believe
I believe
The universe
sings otherwise
Oil, LEAD, INK, 6"x 28"
Artist Statement Draft 3.03 (too long):
Through printmaking techniques and paint application, Galvan constructs images of a liminal landscape — a field caught in limbo. From shifting vantage points, they render moments from a singular environment. Their process starts with scaled down studies on vellum paper, a material used for architectural drafting. Galvan incorporates materials and software used towards urban development as a foundation for their works, tracing how systems of representation, construction, and surveillance shape our understanding of landscape. Their palette draws from the shifting values of CMYK inks used in commercial printing, to align with film stocks used for aerial surveillance, urban planning, and military operations. This connection extends their interest in extrapolating images from their underlying mechanisms. The paintings are composed of elongated halftones, enlarging the negligibly small marks that viewers most often encounter through printed images until they become the dominant visual structure. Stretched beyond their original function, these dots become lines that gesture toward the physicality of a paint stroke.
Paint is applied in monotonous, repetitive, and thick patches, imparting the surfaces with a textile sensibility. By stretching the relatively instantaneous process of printing halftones across the duration of painting, Galvan transforms a mechanism of reproduction into a means of reflection. The paintings become records of both an image and the labor required to reconstruct its underlying systems.
The surfaces of their work are “whitewashed,” through repeated layers of heavily thinned lead white paint applied over transparent gesso. This process produces hazy gradients between paint and substrate, while the varying hues beneath the white draw attention to whiteness as an active intrusion into the surface rather than a neutral or “pure” material state. The residual presence of lead within domestic structures introduces another material tension, using the familiar and potentially hazardous substance to evoke a sense of the uncanny or unheimlichkeit. Galvan often builds the frames for their work from poplar wood. The wood serves as frame, scaffolding, or window, extending the paintings’ investigation of structures through which landscapes are constructed, viewed, and understood. The tree’s historical context as a site of lynching introduces a history of racialized violence into this structural vocabulary, providing a lens through which Galvan approaches the work as a means of coming to terms with suffering and grief.
Their work has been significant in forming an understanding on displacement. They turn to their familial history as a dichotomy between voluntary and involuntary uprooting, to exercise trauma converging from their black, hispanic, european, and indigenous ties. They use phenomena of fish being caught and change in pressure causing deformation and expansion of vestibular organs, as a bridge between displacement and their personal chronic pain within their inner ear. Animals within their work often echo this experience through a process of contortion, with elements of their bodies stretched according to mapping points positioned at a distance from a binding coordinate. This invisible coordinate functions as a theoretical site of multipositioned existence: a condition in which the soul and body are simultaneously situated apart from one another. The resulting distortions consider displacement as both a physical and psychological condition, where the body can remain present while the self is divided across multiple positions.
When The Shifts in the Environment are Rapid, This is what Happens to The Body (Barotrauma) ((1:2))
Finishedworks
The Pink Face Beyond The Magnifying Glass
Once when visiting my Abuelo and Umi, in Hempstead, I found there magnifying lens. I went outside to use it and the sun to burn some ants. I was no more than six, this was not my first time considering this activity. But this time I commited. I felt like I had superpowers, I felt like a scientist, the guilt I felt came creeped in slowly. I cried. I bigged the ants for forgiveness.
"My Mother Told Me A Man Created Jazz"
Digitized notebook drawing collaged into narratives pertaining to the historical acts of erasure, accrued by the disenfranchised. In doing so I catalog cultural motifs and Iconography, particularly those that have fallen subject to speculation, a need to rediscover the story and meanings from archeological clues often bestowed by a western practitioner, a continuation of erasure. This collection of icons serves as a lexicon that subverts the approach of the historical practice of art as a means of storytelling, tracing back to when stained glass was more accessible than the bible for the illiterate. Displacing icons from their historical context and original narrative, I digitally collage them to invent new convoluted and abstract narratives. These narratives parallel my own experiences of being disconnected from parts of my family heritage.
"Spilled from The Guts of The Migrant Blue Bird… / The Proper People plucked em , plumped em, n' popped em / At its Final Rest The Blue Bird is cooked by the warmth of applause / While the chickadees bathe in the stench" Part III.
My abuelo (Spanish for grandfather) was listed as a "bastardo" on his birth certificate. Half indigenous Quechuan and half Spaniard, he was disowned and homeless, but latched on to the tip of academia by gaining solace from his love of Roman philosophy and Western literature. I loved my abuelo... but he left behind a "stench" - a mystery of untold stories, his cultural heritage and his lineage - despite becoming an academic with 4 PhDs. This new work will examine my relationship with his immigrant story (from Peru to queens), the privileges his sacrifice has allotting me and the past that he suppressed.