In the work of Susanna Inglada, drawing refuses to remain still. It expands beyond the page, cuts into space, casts shadows, and confronts the viewer with scenes of psychological and political intensity. Born in Spain and based in the Netherlands, Inglada has developed a practice in which figuration becomes a charged arena for power struggles, grotesque humor, and uneasy negotiations between bodies.
In the following conversation, Inglada reflects on her creative trajectory, her evolving relationship to scale and space, and the risks inherent in transforming drawing into an immersive, theatrical environment.

I am endlessly captivated by the work of Nina Mae Fowler, whose drawings occupy a space where beauty and tension, intimacy and spectacle, coexist with uncanny precision. Her art transforms fleeting cinematic moments, archival images, and the aura of celebrity into something profoundly human, revealing stories that linger beneath the surface. Each line, each shadow, seems to hold a suspended narrative — a frozen gesture of emotion, desire, or vulnerability — and it is a rare privilege to enter her world and witness the meticulous, passionate process that brings these images to life.

In front of Matière noire, I feel a profound love for black. Black not as absence, but as the ultimate concentration, a space of memory and vertigo. Martin Désilets’ work moves me through its silent rigor and the humility with which he embraces the vastness of art history only to dissolve it. Each state of the work is a slow breath, an invitation to slow down, to see differently, to accept that beauty can brush against disappearance. I deeply admire this patient, almost meditative approach, which transforms the saturation of images into a dense, sensitive, and infinitely poetic material. Matière noire is not merely an exhibition: it is an experience of time, of vision, and of finitude, carried with a rare precision and depth.

After nearly twenty years of curatorial practice, I found myself in a singular position: curating the exhibition of my mother, the painter Lidija Dailidėnienė. This situation—both evident and deeply unsettling—forced me to reconsider concepts I had long assumed to be stable: professional objectivity, critical distance, and the legitimacy of the curatorial gaze. Can one be a curator “like any other” when sharing with the artist an intimate history, a family memory, a common emotional landscape? And conversely, can one truly claim absolute neutrality toward any work of art?

“Topography of the Inner Nature” reflects the essence of the artist’s creation: just as topography on a map indicates the relief and structure of a landscape, Lidija Dailidėnienė “maps” on her canvases inner experiences, emotions, and the connection with nature. This metaphor allows each painting to be perceived as a spatial and contemplative journey through inner states. Lidija Dailidėnienė’s painting creates a space of silence and light, where natural motifs transform into subtle reflections of inner states. On her canvases, delicate touches seem to float in the air, accompanied by a carefully harmonized color palette, giving the landscapes a peaceful and meditative character. Each painting becomes a true visual pause — during which the reeds seem to rustle on the canvas, the wind whistles through the branches, and the water of the lake gently ripples.

The pertinence of Seph Rodney’s curatorial choice for Barbara Navi’s first solo exhibition at Galerie RX&SLAG Paris deserves recognition. By granting full freedom to such a finely attuned eye, the gallery has enabled an oeuvre to unfold in all its complexity—one that reveals its depth most fully when accompanied by a thought capable of grasping its intimate tensions. Rodney, with the sensitivity of both critic and essayist, highlights not only the aesthetic stakes of Navi’s work but also brings forth its existential dimension: a painting practice that questions our ways of inhabiting time, memory, and reality. He sums up this direction by evoking the desire to create “a fracture in ordinary time,” an opening through which images become thresholds rather than certainties.