Reviews

“Hiiva’s images suggest an inner realm in which the spirit is both protected and exposed.” 

H.A. Harrison, The New York Times 

“Olga Hiiva’s paintings evoke lost worlds in the wake of cataclysm. A reclining figure appears to be at peace, but is really in a state of postwar devastation.” 

Michael Kaufman, The New York Times

“Olga Hiiva’s canvases place the viewer face to face with the genuinely sacred—she has the ability to speak with the voice of silence. Silence of cloth-canvas. Silence of pigments. Silence of repose and movement. Silence of the figure.” 

Dr. Oleg Komkov, Moscow State University

“But what are we to do with a tear in our time—a time that refuses to recognize it? When may we allow ourselves to shed it, other than during a moment of loneliness, on a death bed, or in pain and futility? What will keep it safe, if not a gown already moist from tears of the body? These lamenting soaked gowns and laden bedsheets are simultaneously subjects and means of communication, the symbols of Olga Hiiva’s artistry and message to the world.”

Vera Horvat, poet/writer 

Anthony Giordano Gallery at Dowling College. LI.

Selections: Painting. July 11-September 16. 2001

By Kathy Levine/Artist/Curator.

The large, symbolic paintings on vintage fabrics and clothing by Olga Hiiva command attention and thought with their bold, direct, representational imagery-imagery that consists of nude or sometimes shrouded figures, domestic and wild animals, flowers, leaves, and stark natural landscapes. Her color schemes for the most part, monochromatic with an emphasis on contrasting tones of light and dark. Strong, hard-edged quadratic shapes predominate and enclose, softer irregular elements that are organic in nature such as the outline of clothing and the figure.

On one hand her paintings seem to be very private due to the presence of figures that are either nude or completely concealed by voluminous drapery, while on the other hand, the poses of the figures and the depiction of other forms such as flowers, landscapes, and animals are universal. The artist herself has stated, “My work is rooted in personal, cultural, and collective memories, myths, and nature.” She has been influenced by many events in her life, the single most important of these is having been born in St. Petersburg, Russia and living there for the first eleven years. Indeed, the monumental and iconic aspects of her work seem to derive from a Russian and Eastern European sensibility. Furthermore, the artist has experienced a richly peripatetic background, having also lived in Jerusalem, Paris, and New York.

Olga’s work raises many questions about our relationship to ourselves, to her work, and even to the world in which we live. There is no one particular or straightforward answer to any of these inquiries. Each person will bring to her images their own stories, thoughts, and feelings.

“The signs and symbols of Olga Hiiva’s work tend to lead us to questions rather than answers… The result is a kind of reductive Surrealism, in which a few familiar signs collide, given force by the physical impact of the work, but without an apparent rationale, so that the viewer is obliged to respond to them intuitively, to recognize the element of mystery in an image of motherhood, or in an article of clothing or in a religious symbol.” 

Doug Lang, poet/writer

Tenri Cultural Institution of New York

Artist Talk on Art. Fusion. November 30-December 12, 2009

By Dr. Thalia Varachopoulos (winners of the nationwide competition)

Olga Hiiva studied Art at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington DC. After which she went to Paris on a scholarship in 1982 where she worked at the studio of Henrie Cartie Bresson. She continued her studies in Brooklyn where she earned her MFA (painting/photography/film)at Pratt Institute and received a scholarship at Skowheegan School of Painting and Sculpture. Impressed by the visiting lecturer Joseph Cambell and his views on art and myth her perspective was reinforced inspiring her to create visionary works. Hiiva paints on vintage fabrics or clothing that carries within it the previous owner’s history and memories. She is like an archeologist discovering these objects and rediscovering their meaning within the layers that she has accrued onto the work’s surfaces. Hiiva addresses issues of motherhood, sacrifice, in both contemporary and historic contexts that serve as catalysts in provoking viewer contemplation.

“Hiiva paints on vintage fabrics or clothing that carries within it the previous owner’s history and memories. She is like an archeologist discovering these objects and rediscovering their meaning within the layers that she has accrued onto the work’s surfaces. Hiiva addresses issues of motherhood, sacrifice, in both contemporary and historic contexts that serve as catalysts in provoking viewer contemplation”. 

Dr. Thalia Vrachopoulos, Tenri Cultural Institute

Corcoran Gallery of Art/Graduate Catalogue. Washington DC.

By Doug Lang/Poet/Writer.

The signs and symbols of Olga Hiiva’s work tend to lead us to questions rather than answers. Painting on thrift store clothing (women’s gloves, undergarments) and, more recently, bedspreads and wood shaped to fit the image depicted. Olga directs our attention to the iconic nature of things. Clothes are a sign, after all, just as the image of Male/Female nude are a sign. The symbolism of these images works through direct simplicity. The viewer is confronted by an image that is loaded with meaning, but receives no instruction about the way that image should be read. The result is a kind of reductive Surrealism, in which a few familiar signs collide, given force by the physical impact of the work, but without an apparent rationale, so that the viewer is obliged to respond to them intuitively, to recognize the element of mystery in an image of motherhood, or in an article of clothing or in a religious symbol.

Speaking of the Unspoken

By Vera Horvat (translated from Croatian by Professor Oleg Komkov)

And yet I’ve seen a tear slide down
through the woods. It is her that
someone has shed. But she—how
will she shed herself? 

    V.A. Sosnora

As contemporaries of the worldwide deluge that may bring us to the edge of history, while even the most apocalyptic prophecies are imminent, and almost all of the atrocities of the “last days” have been committed, what can be said? Only unspoken suffering is left, witnessed by the sediment of heavy water—a tear shed.

But what are we to do with a tear in our time—a time that refuses to recognize it? When may we allow ourselves to shed it, other than during a moment of loneliness, on a death bed, or in pain and futility? What will keep it safe, if not a gown already moist from tears of the body? These lamenting soaked gowns and laden bedsheets are simultaneously subjects and means of communication, the symbols of Olga Hiiva’s artistry and message to the world.

Hiiva works with canvas on top of canvas, creating form, content and images out of previously used but now abandoned bedsheets, covers, linens, and clothing—
envelopes for dreams and unsent whispers. Although she uses ancient methods of making mediums according to Maroger’s classical Venetian recipes, in her neo-surreal creations she metaphorically paints with tears.

Kandinsky might have said that the white canvas—containing delicate blue and sepia hues—can be equated to wordlessness. What still remains unspoken is pain—pain from the suffering of the innocent, pain from the humiliation and self-inflicted annihilation of the human race, pain from weakness and helplessness, and pain from reality, unable to be converted into dream, or even nightmare, since waking would not ease the burden.

The reality Hiiva is depicting approaches hopelessness; the light in her paintings seems ominous, different from any light or sunshine. Objects reflect neither moonlight nor any other kind of light; it is as if we see it emanating from the canvases themselves—a weak light under which quivering powerless human and animal bodies are exposed. In Hiiva’s vision, both animals and humans are condemned to pitiless and thoughtless sacrifice, trampled into herds (Sacrifice, 2009; Tefila, 2008). Human bodies either cascade into the abyss or guard the vaults of heaven under the guise of broken pieces of civilization, and, instead of shelter, offer a burden and threat (Castor & Pollux, 2006).

The artist incarnates an atmosphere of universal vulnerability. Let us keep in mind that the vulnerable are not limited to the physically wounded but also to those abandoned on a battlefield and exposed to new wounds. 

Hiiva sensitively and deeply explores the female, seeing it as complex and significant. In her works, the female image appears to be a priestess in a sanctuary of lament (Bakarat, 2007; The Well, 2011) as well as a being who analyzes the labyrinths of personal femininity through the experience of pain. Here, as well as in a series of photographs on the same subject, Eros and Tanatos are inseparably linked (Nude and Roses, 1999; H2O, 2001; Susan, 2010; Bewedded, 1993).

As if to counterbalance all of the above, Hiiva creates an original and entirely unique female character, to whom she assigns a role of metaphysical and physical participation in the healing of the world. It is eloquently evident in the cycle Tefillah (Prayer) and in the painting Tikun Olam. The latter term refers to the Judaic concept of rebuilding the disturbed world, creating harmony (tikun, Heb. תיקון, “repair”; tikun olam, Heb. תיקון עול, to “repair the world”). The traditional idea is that humans participate alongside God in the creation of this harmony. In her paintings, Olga Hiiva assigns this healing role to women in silent prayer, women-healers who offer a life-affirming balm to the world. 

Her images synthesize Holy Christian women and the heroines of the Hebrew bible; their thoughtful faces breathing monumentality like the Sistine Sibyls. The paints used by the artist are borrowed from Grunewald’s pallet, muted enough to give the appearance of decay, the color of bruising, wounds, and mortification.

These iconographic female faces on linen are reminiscent of veronicas (divine imprints), while the fancywork, such as printed flower-garlands, at first appear incompatible, but then add a slightly sweetened sip of sentimentality to this atmosphere of bitterness. It may be that the role of these decorative elements is to make the language of the painting familiar to everyone who belongs to those cultures, whether Russian, Finnish, Jewish, or American—cultures associated with the artist’s heritage—and yet, it is comprehensible to everyone. Indeed, Olga Hiiva’s message addresses all people, but women first and foremost, from Eve to our contemporaries. Hiiva proclaims, “Tears are allowed.”

Tears, after all, heal the world, and are a myrrh, like a blessing hand, for which our mortally wounded world cries out louder than ever.