In her works, Ieva Iltnere conjures up a world full of paradoxes and contrasts &ndash; clich&eacute;s of consumer society in her paintings coexist with spiritual searches and delicate, sophisticated handwriting acquired in a well-known school of young artists with imprints of children&rsquo;s hands. She reveals that one of the tasks of her work is to attract the viewers to apparently impeccable pictures and make them find the fault. It seems that this is the way Ieva Iltnere views the world &ndash; carrying in her a parallel life to the next exhibition, and enthusiastically finding a solution to the self-defined enigma or an interesting noncompliance. Philosopher Artis Svece used to say about her creation: &ldquo;Everything is perfect, but nothing is in its place.&rdquo;

When writing about your painting, critics often mention variability. In your opinion is there anything settled that permeates your creative work?

It could really be a problem for me, that I go several paths at the same time; in one exhibition there are often works from &ldquo;different operas&rdquo;. This happens when working over a longer period. I like the contrasts &ndash; soft to sharp, black to white, carbon to thick. Perhaps the constant factor in my creative work is this variability, although that might also be a false impression. Let&rsquo;s assume that all my paintings are displayed in the restored&nbsp;Arsenal&nbsp;... I think the viewers will recognize that this is me. Because the painter paints himself, the writer writes about himself, the actor plays himself ... To some extent, it is always like that. I have always been fascinated by imperfection. I want the viewer to be sucked into the picture &ndash; at first, he sees one picture, but then he wants to put his nose closer to see how it is made and then he notices something totally different.

In an interview in the &ldquo;Diena&rdquo; newspaper, you told Vilnis Vēj&scaron; that your works almost always somehow &ldquo;turn to irony&rdquo; ...

I&rsquo;m not a real joke teller, but irony appears quite often. For example, I used to have a painting titled&nbsp;A Happy Man Overcoming the Barrier. A funny paradox, isn&rsquo;t it? I also like to think about the commonly used statements that often appear in the information space, such as &ldquo;sensitive information&rdquo;, &ldquo;red lines&rdquo;, &ldquo;hybrid war&rdquo; or &ldquo;shell company&rdquo;. Try to visualize it. Just great! (Laughing).

I have always been fascinated by an artist&rsquo;s ability and courage to choose from all motives, themes, and compositional options.

You formulated it pretty well; it is exactly the most painful thing. At first, I like to create and collect a set of themes for myself; to develop a nucleus. If there is an idea, the materials compile automatically. I have folders where I put everything together. Once you have accumulated, you have to start discarding. It is not easy, I am in a thinking process with a brush in my mouth &ndash; a lot will only go away in the painting process. Sometimes sidesteps happen and I accept them to check whether it fits or not. Of course, the concept must always be considered (especially if, for example, you have submitted a project for getting funding for the exhibition) and the exhibition premises &ndash; on the one hand, it is limiting, on the other &ndash; it helps to stay accurate. It is like making a movie where everything has to be considered to the smallest detail &ndash; the artist is never absolutely free. When the exhibition is coming, I cannot sleep, my head at night is free after the day work, and finally, I have time to think, I use to change ideas at the last moment (Laughing). Of course, this process not only brings torment but also some joy. It is a game you play with yourself. It&rsquo;s like a woman who is pregnant and no one else knows that she is carrying a whole world in her. That&rsquo;s how I sometimes feel before exhibitions &ndash; you wash dishes or do the ironing, but in parallel, the other life is going on in your body. And I have always loved it.

So does that mean your works are created for exhibitions?

Yes, when I know what the exhibition premises are, I have ideas. It is important for every artist to know how the works will be exhibited &ndash; no matter whether it is Tracey Emin or Mark Rothko. When I finished painting for my previous exhibition&nbsp;&ldquo;Sum&rdquo;&nbsp;in gallery&nbsp;Art XO, I already had an idea for the next exhibition. But now I feel I have gone through it; it is like with unfulfilled love &ndash; the other person does not even know about it, and with catharsis and finals, it is over in one moment. I have an unusual feeling right now; maybe I should just jump over to another, more interesting idea. I always have some words in my head that I am thinking about. I remember, once on my way to the store I was thinking &ndash; should I put a comma in the title of the exhibition &ldquo;Beautiful, fragile nature&rdquo;. Maybe I am crazy, who cares about it! (Laughing).

And after the opening of the exhibition, you don&rsquo;t want to put a comma?

Then, to a large extent, the pain has passed. It is important to me as an artist and person to see&nbsp;the dry residue. It is like seeing the result of plastic surgery when everything has finally healed and it can be assessed whether it has been successful. Of course, then you clearly see what you should have had and what not. After the last exhibition, I really had the feeling that there were too many directions. That&rsquo;s the point when you are sitting at home and you can&rsquo;t reach a conclusion. That&rsquo;s why exhibitions are so important. Of course, it should also be kept in mind that the painting is a tangible and movable thing, that the context of space plays a role as well. I always think about how the paintings will play together. I can&rsquo;t expose more than three or four pictures at the same time in the workshop.

You come from an artistic family, a lot of professionals around you. Do you share your creative considerations with them?

Not really. John (the painter&rsquo;s husband Jānis Mitrēvics &ndash; ed.remark),&nbsp;of course, encourages me a lot, saying that everything is fine with me (Laughing). I need someone who says that. It is really helpful. Sometimes he tells me that the painting is ready, there is no use tampering with it anymore, he does not like me repainting. But I want to paint it more slowly, more carefully &ndash; if it&rsquo;s shiny, then it really has to shine. It comes from art school (now &ndash; Riga Design and Art School &ndash; ed. note), where I learned patience.

And what has been your cooperation with curators?

In my younger years Ivars Runkovskis, of course, and also Inga &Scaron;teimane, was really important for me. Generally speaking, it is not easy to be a curator &ndash; they have to push and inspire the artist. For me, it&rsquo;s easier to be a curator myself at my exhibition. When participating in a group exhibition, I always have doubts about whether I will disappoint the curator. It is not easy because the result has to be common, but I want to feel free like a fish in its own waters.

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DSC01721 IEVA ILTNERE 1.jpg

Do you need special conditions for the painting process?

We once lived together in our apartment, three sisters with two children each. Everyone had a room, a shared kitchen, a workshop as big as it was. John wondered how I could manage it&ndash; at one moment I was baking potatoes, the next I was painting. But there was no other option; otherwise, you wouldn&rsquo;t have done it at all. There will never be an ideal life and ideal conditions where nobody disturbs you. When I turn on some music in the workshop I feel like I&rsquo;m in a glass case, as if entering a different space where I can concentrate. When I start working, it gradually brings peace. I start slowly; first I do some tiny routines, then make some alterations in the painting. It&rsquo;s in my character &ndash; to be doing something all the time.

Do you need to rest in a different environment, for example, in the countryside, after intense periods of work?

Yes, I definitely need to switch myself on to something else. I have had periods when I am at the point when everything seems worthless and then, regardless whether you like it or not, you are laid down on the couch; it is a disgusting feeling. But there are a lot of tiny ones (grandchildren &ndash; ed. note) who bring you back to reality. I also love being in nature, in the countryside. Halfway to the countryside, I have already switched myself on to other things; even if there have been some problems in Riga. In the car I start talking to my husband about the pond, whether it is frozen or not, and when we get there we find out with horror, oh madness, a big branch of the tree has fallen down (Laughing). In the countryside, you can relax &ndash; even if you are physically tired, in your head everything has changed.

You can definitely be called a Style Icon &ndash; with elegance, a subtle sense of style, and actually the continuation of art in self-image. You have said in interviews that you want to create a contrast from the really hard and dirty job of painting.

I love and I am interested in fashion as a phenomenon. In my paintings there are often themes about how people change their &ldquo;packaging&rdquo;. For example, from the works of Jan van Eyck, clothing could be sewn. I also sometimes imagine I could paint this shoe, a horseshoe, and after a thousand years someone would find it and wonder. (Laugh- ing). During the Soviet era, my mother worked in the&nbsp;Riga fabric&nbsp;factory, she read foreign fashion magazines. My Mum drew fabric patterns with gauche colours. It was an amaz- ing world! At that time everybody made their own clothes. I remember that my mother sewed me a blue dress that was not a school uniform. I made myself a winter coat with bat- ting and a fur collar. In Soviet times it was quite impossible to buy clothes and people had no money ... Now the world has changed &ndash; there are many new themes: overproduction of clothing, the fashion market, magazines, and shows.

You have said that nowadays the role of painting has changed. Is the valuation of art changing in relation to overproduction of images and due to a new media occupying their place?

I think the value of painting has remained. The proportion of media has changed. Many new media have appeared, even the virtual ones &ndash; for example, [Gints] Gabrāns&rsquo; work, which this year has been nominated for the Purvītis Prize. Such works, perhaps, may have the same impression as [Mark] Rothko&rsquo;s paintings, but the instruments are different. I will stay with my instrument. Sometimes it seems that curators in Riga are afraid of painting in the old-fashioned media. In large exhibitions abroad paintings still have their place, they still have the effect of a cave drawing &ndash; it is the imprint you can&rsquo;t repeat again tomorrow. A unique human world imprint. Who knows, maybe I will experience some changes. For example, my Dad (painter Edgars Iltners (1925&ndash;1983) &ndash;ed. note) in his youth could create a few paintings a year and lived well. The artist was like an influencer today &ndash; held in high status. Although the status has changed, art is still necessary &ndash; art and culture make it easier to live; it is like a comforter for a stranger. And when it comes to painting, it is materialistic. Nowadays, so much stuff is just in the mind or in a virtual cloud that people want to do something with their hands, feel things. The human being is not a robot yet.

You are a teacher at the Latvian Academy of Art. What are your observations about the interests of the new generation &ndash; art students?

Every generation is really different because the world is changing. But when we lived behind the Iron Curtain, actually we literally lived in the academy and were bohemians to a large extent. We were all in the same boat. My children&rsquo;s generation is different; I think every next generation is smarter and better. I also see it in my grandchildren who seem to have been born with technological knowledge. As far as students are concerned, I feel they are quieter, calmer, more patient, and more restrained than we were. I often want to shake them up to get them to say something. [Imants] Lancmanis recently said in an interview, &lsquo;the young generation is no longer drinking&rsquo; (Laughing). But young people inspire me and give me a feeling of what is going on at the moment. I am very introvert by nature, at the beginning I had difficulties to address a stranger in the academy.

Which painters have influenced you?

While studying at the Academy we looked at Giotto and other pre-Renaissance painters. I still love Van Eyck. I once used his images from the painting of&nbsp;Arnolfini family portrait&ndash; I included them in my work. I looked at the reproduction of the painting in a book of Soviet times, where Mr. Arnolfini had strange legs, like not completely painted. So I did the same in my painting. When I saw the original in London, his legs were perfect (Laughing). Actually, I also like to study something in the context of painting. I had a pack of dogs looking at&nbsp;Black Square. I learned at the Academy Library how many different&nbsp;Black Squares&nbsp;Malevich had actually created. Up to now, I sympathize with the Leipzig School, Neo Rauch, and others. The Germans had the nec- essary conditions for realism to flourish in painting. I have often thought that we could do the same here if there were such opportunities. The skills gained during the Soviet era would be suitable for this. But just realism is not enough,&nbsp;it has to be transformed a little; I am certainly inspired by photography, cinema, music, and architecture.

“I am excited by the painting of my dad Edgars Iltners My Latvia. Both then and now. It was painted a year before Dad’s death and it is both painful and beautiful at the same time. If we take this painting and The Earth’s landlords and put both paintings next to each other, we see the way passed by the artist. The man is no longer a landlord but has become a part of the divine world.”

Ieva Iltnere | Stranger's comfort

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