Elite Art Gallery (E.A.G.): Not long ago, the exhibition "Contemporary Painters at Balchik" took place. Many artists are already veterans of the camp organized there every year, but for you, it was a premiere. Tell me about this experience.
Constantin Flondor (C.F.): Yes, I was a pioneer, the youngest in the team that went to Balchik. Of course, I had wanted to visit, in fact, it's a aspiration for each one of us here, from this space, to see those places that can still remind us of what once was Romania under a monarchy. Meeting Balchik was both a joy and a disappointment. Many things feel like they are being lost; I understand from my colleagues that they disappear from year to year. For example, Lady Cecilia Cuţescu Stork's palace, I don't know if it has many years left if nothing happens, if the Romanian state is not capable of buying it, restoring it, which still means a substantial effort. It was a joy to see the Queen's gardens, a miraculous space, a labyrinth on two or three levels, you climb, descend, discover a building, a palace. The rest, the cliff, the space towards the Black Sea. Of course, now there are restaurants, cars go by, tourists come and go, the hotels still have a communist fragrance, but the place is formidable, and the relief is very dynamic. You can see that it was once a wonderful place, it still is, but you have to search. It was a dream, but we sadly witness that it slowly degrades, transforms, becomes something else.
(E.A.G.): Does Balchik mean anything more for Romanians?
(C.F.): It would mean more if we refer again to the few things, but it requires attention. In our country, there are churches falling apart, old forgotten spaces that are still extraordinary, and you wonder how they still exist but still need attention. Even in Bucharest, there are such places, like Lipscani full of restaurants. There is much to be done, and as time passes, it will be harder to repair, restoration over time becomes more difficult, more expensive, and I think our mentality has probably genetically shifted; we don't care as much anymore. They build super high, as in the case of St. Joseph's Church, this new architecture no longer respects any laws of urban planning, it no longer respects old Bucharest. But, slowly, like in Balchik, you need to know where to go, on which streets and in which places to discover the charm of old Bucharest.
(E.A.G.): In the exhibited paintings, I couldn't help but notice a certain predilection. In an article published in Arta in 1990, you spoke of "the presence of a continuous reference: nature." Where does this love for nature come from?
(C.F.): It's a natural love for each one of us born into this world. Perhaps some, with a preference for fantasy, have arrived at different beliefs than mine. However, I believe that art should be a secondary nature, where the creator is no longer God but me, the painter, and where a parallel world is created with the given world. There are people in the art world who have this fascination, this admiration, this reality that is given to us and is present in nature, in the world around us, and is sufficient to nourish our creativity. So, how does my imagination, fantasy, and creativity manifest when I stand before nature, the sea, the sky, a tree? When language issues come into play, and the fact that nature is so complex that it can never be fully encompassed; there are always areas from which you can still learn as a painter, from which you can still draw inspiration. In painting, you discover things that are still old and rare even at the age of 70. To paraphrase Brâncuşi, when we are no longer students in front of nature or a painting, it means that we have long died, that we have disappeared. Then you start to repeat yourself, a mannerism begins, other things from which we must protect ourselves.
(E.A.G.): A love that was complemented by a passion for mathematics, right?
(C.F.): Ah, yes. (laughs) Of course, I was more directly connected to mathematics before, and the results were all sorts of geometric constructions, either in two or three dimensions. If we refer to a period that spans the 1970s, at least a good ten years, from 1970 to 1980.
(E.A.G.): How far can the two go together, painting and mathematics?
(C.F.): I don't even know if I've gone as far as they could go together. I mostly alternated between mathematics and painting, leaving one for the other, entering deeply into mathematics, I would leave painting behind. Here, I would paraphrase George Braque, who in his early youth had a greater plea for geometry and rationality and said: "I like reason that corrects intuition." Afterward, in another phase, entering into a freer form of painting and distancing oneself from Picasso, from cubism, and all those things, he said the exact opposite: "I like intuition that corrects reason" – a good parallel with what happened with me. Still, before the canvas becomes a tree, a sea, and so on, there is a framework of lines that spiritualizes and establishes pathways within the surface. With me, things happen intuitively; I judge right, left, up, down, but it's a bit more baroque.
(E.A.G.): And if you hadn't chosen the path of painting, where would you have gone?
(C.F.): In my youth, I liked music; I took piano lessons, and I even composed when I was in love, at 13 or 14 years old, some tangos, some waltzes. I liked music, and I did assignments with students related to this connection between music and painting.
(E.A.G.): Have you ever felt that you live through the works of your students?
(C.F.): Yes, I could say that I have felt this as well. Now, I don't know if it's a good thing; some have criticized it, although I don't think there is too much closeness, especially in the apprentice phase of the student compared to my way of being and thinking. I think it's a false problem, non-essential. Each, in their formative phase, can have a role model, which doesn't necessarily have to be their teacher; it can be among the models in the history of art because, over time, they will naturally form their own path.
(E.A.G.): After several stages, you ultimately returned to easel painting before the formation of the Prolog group. Why did you feel the need for this return?
(C.F.): There is a text by Erwin Kessler in which he says that Paul Gherasim, who built and generated the Prolog group, (now I'm quoting Kessler directly): "absorbed Flondor from the Sigma group." My amicable departure from the Sigma group actually happened before I joined the Prolog group. It happened in the 1980s, at least five years before, I was returning to painting, maybe I was fascinated by Bernea, by what was happening in our painting and in the world. This ten-year experience with 111 and Sigma was like a journey into the various issues of the formal universe, the language of art, and I returned to painting as if after a beautiful trip through the world.
(E.A.G.): As you mentioned, before Prolog, there were 111 and Sigma. Why for a long time with other artists and not on your own?
(C.F.): That's how it was meant to be. The need for solidarity, to be with others, could be an explanation. I think being in a group is not such a simple matter, and it's not about the ease of your artist's personality, but it's a school you must have. Many cannot exist in a group because they have to give, they have to quell their ego. From the state of an individual artist, they must transform into a person capable of loving their friend's achievements. It's not an easy lesson to learn, and you have to be a good friend, as we are, as a group, to make it last, otherwise, it all falls apart.
(E.A.G.): Finally, I invite you to a short and interesting exercise. Describe the following people in a few words: Horea Paştina.
(C.F.): Transylvanian, gentle but determined, soft-spoken but strong-willed, a good listener but also stubborn.
(E.A.G.): Mihai Sârbulescu.
(C.F.): Mobile, very friendly, his paintings still have vivacity.
(E.A.G.): Paul Gherasim.
(C.F.): The patriarch of our group, a wise man, he is also determined but gently takes you, so gently but leads you on an important path from which you cannot deviate.
(E.A.G.): And last but not least: Constantin Flondor.
(C.F.): Well, what can I say about myself (laughs)? I feel very paradoxical; I have both good and all the bad things in the world, so it's very hard for me to give myself a definition, to see what outweighs, what is essential. Fraternal and open, those would be it.
(E.A.G.): Thank you!
