ANTWERP.- Iva Lulashi’s paintings are sensual and disquieting. In ‘Wedding Invitation’ the nude shoulders and face of a young woman are hazily foregrounded, as though caught in a moment of movement, against a backdrop of cattle and off-kilter ceiling. ‘Non aspettarla’ features one naked figure straddling another, their tangle of limbs seeming to blend into a single being, against a warm, sunny landscape. A woman wanders alone in ‘Non disse ma sibilò’, losing herself in the wilderness. On view together for ‘Cold in My Mouth’, these paintings invite the viewer to contemplate their own position in looking at the works. Are we peeping Toms, enjoying a covert glimpse? Or welcome parties, part of the landscape and bodily exploration happening on canvas?

This series of works follows the artist’s solo presentation for the Albanian Pavillion at the 2024 Venice Biennale. Her project explored the “glass of water theory” related to Russia’s pre-revolutionary years and the feminist socialist leader Alexandra Kollontai. The theory calls for impulses to be fulfilled with the same carefree nature as drinking a glass of water. The paintings in ‘Cold in My Mouth’ present a similarly relaxed view of female sexuality, and Lulashi sees them as concluding her five-year research process. Water is subtly present, sometimes as a cerulean flash in the background of her compositions, at others a more ghostly smear that her figures lean over.

These works have been created from a mass of archival pornography. Lulashi is particularly focused on the initial or final moments, which many purveyors of the original material will simply skip over or never reach. Some are more overt than others. ‘Ho comprato un po di ombra’ depicts a woman from behind as she straddles her lover, body clothed in a silky black nightgown, the room soaked in a pulsing red. ‘Come si chiama?’ presents a more tender intimacy, as one woman leans in towards another’s chest, their activity partly hidden from the viewer. Lulashi sees these women as having a conscious control over their eroticism, occasionally finding a way to channel this into complete dominance.

Paint is used to reveal and conceal. Applied in thick strokes, it forms deep shadows and warm highlights, sometimes throwing the foreground into darkness, making the nearby figures and viewer appear to be hiding or watching covertly. Her energetic strokes imbue the scenes with a sense of movement, like the shake of a recording device or vision caught on a casual glance. This is fed by the source material’s momentary, fleeting nature, depicting scenes caught in motion rather than heavily studied or formally composed. Movement renders the work slightly outside of the viewer’s grasp too: tantalising and sometimes welcoming, yet always leaving the desire for more.

Emily Steer