Hany Armanious at Fine Arts, Sydney

9 May

Hany Armanious, *Moth*, 2020, pigmented polyurethane resin, wire, gouache, 40 x 37 x 4.5 cm. Edition 1 of 1. Courtesy of the artist and Fine Arts, Sydney

The moths are things that are just sort of ’there.’ They land where they like, lighting upon furniture, walls—sculptures that aren't presented formally on plinths or don’t have prescribed supports. They can go anywhere, casually and quietly within a room on a surface. There’s something about the appearance of moths too, they’re dusty and hard to be sure of the edges of.(1)

In this exhibition, Hany Armanious has cast and repurposed the frustrated creative efforts of others. Abandoned blocks of carved limestone, a cello with a snapped-off neck, fired ceramics that have cracked, a cast-aside piece of timber, a squashed basket.

As ever with Armanious’s work there are ideas of mimesis and hesitation as an artist—prodding the parameters of original mark-making, the limits of knowledge, objecthood and nothingness—all borne with masterful technique and total commitment to the gesture with an acute material sensibility.

These crimpled, sepia surfaces crumble and foam. Their innards would crack on implosion. A presentation of moths isn’t about moths or anthropo- or zoo- morphism per se. It’s an exhibition that contemplates life, death, sex, love, religion and belief.

Footnotes
(1) Ryan Moore, Director at Fine Arts, Sydney, in conversation with Becky Hemus, 22 April 2021.