Hajnalka László's works explore the intersection between reality and fiction. She is clear and precise. Simply. She walks effortlessly in the space of her pictures, in the different dimensions created by the images, she creates unusual situations, she looks at the world upside down, in an almost Orcish way, while holding a mirror up to herself. The distortions are almost imperceptible. The absurd is a natural state, just as it is natural that the drawing sometimes appears to be a photograph, or that the photographic is not always what it seems. Manipulation. Play. Experimentation. A search for identity. Presence.
If you have ever seen Hajnalka László's work, you have probably committed it to memory. Not only for her distinctive technique, expression or recurring motifs such as balloons or the constant focus on the human body/face, but also for her reflexive/self-reflexive, photographically surreal way of speaking.
His compositions, created from a play of clean, mostly smooth surfaces, harmonious in tone, are counterpointed by small, precisely defined, decisive solutions - decorative surfaces built up from geometric forms, often reminiscent of Art Nouveau plant ornamentation, vivid reds. He works in a relatively narrow range of colours. Black and white, brownish tones with a neon effect dominate the images, which are made refreshingly exciting by floral details, fiery red balloons or laser-dotted red hearts, or subtle overlays.
It's about the body, the face. He superimposes or juxtaposes different perspectives. Most of the time she creates barely perceptible transitions with her textures. He explores surface spaces while searching for depth - making virtual situations real. This is how Magritte and Lichtenstein meet in his art, or even Rembrandt's imagery, or Gabrielle d'Estrées' sister. He brings classics into play through digital technology. It is also how he replaces faces with fiery red balloons, how he decapitates or objectifies his models.
In dealing with the body - as if the possibilities of visual manipulation were competing with primary experiences such as the sight of a nipple or the realism of skin pores - there is a delicate balance in which this duality is perceived, but it is also made exciting and tricky by the fact that it can be turned upside down or hung on a hanger at any time.
Personal experiences accentuate, groove surfaces - I think these are the yardsticks of the effect, whereas if you look behind the surfaces, all you see are the homogeneous surfaces of the backgrounds. Ultimately, it is only the surface that is given, articulated in some way.
Despite the minimalistically rich textures of Hajnalka László's paintings, often evoking the cold whites of classical marble sculptures, they are unified on crystal-clear surfaces. Keeping a kind of distance, they can become close to us. And this distancing, which also comes from digitality, feels surprisingly natural. At the same time, it gives the works an elegance. This is the medium that is given today. We get caught up in a game of strange paradoxes - like a puzzle, we sometimes feel. What do we see? - we are often at a loss, even though the sight is concrete, almost tangible. It can overwhelm us with its realism, but it can also easily lead us further astray with its alienating enigmas, its pictorial statements that, despite their concreteness, cannot be clearly deciphered. It is not necessary to approach these statements, which are presented as signs, very seriously, because nothing is quite what it seems, and even the most constricted situation can be overcome with a gesture or two.
