Identity and history_
Identity Fiction_
In Ascension _
Emma Re talks about the..._
Painting as Revelation_
Soul Colour_
Girl Figures_
Moizer Catalog 2007_
If the ego were an animal_
Joyless Mona Lisa_
Female Myths_
Febronia _
Incantation _
There's Painter _
Personal Mythologies_

Photo Gallery_
Eszter Götz
2007. november 29

"That who looks at me sees my world"-Rembrandt would have said, had he ever said anything about his self-portraits. At the heart of self-portrait-with him and with every single great painter following him-there lurks a passionate curiosity directed at the world. A review.


Zsuzsa Moizer has not even celebrated her 30th birthday, yet all her paintings are already marked with recognisably mature and delicate intellectual-visual layers that make up her painter's world. She always paints self-portraits, girl figures with blurred regards, often only a head or parts of it, sometimes a foot, or arms spun-twisted into a wreath. In every picture, she faces herself. She dresses into the fate of erstwhile women, sharing, taking over their feelings. Sometimes she digs into even older ages, sometimes she seeks the mood of angels in her own image.


She gave her exhibition the name "Remains from Intercisa" this is an autobiographical note, since the paintress lives in Dunaújváros, and the old Roman name focuses on the town's past, its historic deep layers. The water-colours, ancient belongings, mythological elements exhibited are the documents of certain inner excavations-a woman-shaped jug, a sphinx figure, a bowl or a lamp-, get their forms on the canvas from the very body of the paintress. Solitary, trembling little soulbirds, light pinkish wounds in the white, unframed background, there is hardly any transition between the painted and non-painted surfaces, the figures can only be perceived as the deepest, covered layers. At the same time, the disappearing personality slowly effuses like the thickening water-colour here and there, it grows over the picture area, fills the empty spaces-and exactly because the contours are almost entirely missing, it does not begin anywhere and does not end anywhere: it is just there. Human surface, women's air, colourful shadow divided into its members.


There are few foreign colours in the flesh-colour; the surface thickens into red where the blood streams out of the wounds, and into green where a strong memory suddenly, with a more emphatic gesture, forms a contrast to the body. Other pictures represent the limbs separated from the trunk, with only a little flesh-shred locked into stocks below the waist, or the body turns around to force itself into the shape of an object. Of what things is the human body a building block? What can it change into, what changes of shape can it undergo to finally be able to recognise itself, to keep its self-identity? Every single element of Zsuzsa Moizer's world is made up of the body; she conjures up everything visible from herself, she forms everything from her own material. In contemporary painting, which makes a cult of the body in a chaotic manner, this painting strikes a uniquely clear and determined note.


Translated by Bálint Szele