Die Linie biegen: Der Maler Robert Davidovitz umarmt den Zufall und das Spiel

Creative Journey and Inspiration

Tell us about the trajectory of your practice.

My career really started after my undergrad at York. After graduation I put a lot of effort into applying to calls for submission, which got me my first shows. The community I’ve built–in those years in school, from early exhibitions, and since–has been a huge part of my trajectory. It’s the ecosystem of people around you that really adds to your career. 

I did my undergrad at York University in Toronto. The program was very interdisciplinary, but I primarily focused on photography. Although I never really painted in school, it was definitely something that I wanted to try because my photography often referenced the history of painting by creating imagery and compositions that were reminiscent of classical paintings.

Your earlier paintings have a more pixelated quality to them. Is that where the idea of the woven grid came from?

The world around me was transitioning from analog to digital. I really loved the materiality of [analog] photography; the manual exposure, the chemicals, the darkrooms. At first it was a sad transition for me. But, moving from thinking about grain to pixels was something that I was intrigued by. I started recognizing pixels for their potential for patterning, and this train of thought really connects to the work I’m making today. Now, I’m thinking about almost a physical pixel rather than that of a digital one. That core idea is really how and why I started exploring– through the lens of photography, and then going back to the most analog process– painting.

The grid is a really important element in my work. I wanted to explore pixels in a very physical way. Weaving is a series of binary commands to develop the code of the visual. 

I come from a deeply working class family–I’ve always worked with my hands. I’ve always been interested in labor, and time is a reflection of that labor ultimately. So when I used to weave paint it felt like that time, that labour, was manifested physically. Laying each strand at a time was a slow process that required a lot of patience and diligence.

A shaped painting by Robert Davidovitz on a white background. The work curves in an S-like shape, with red and blue paint strands applied in vertical lines to create a striped pattern.

Artistic Process and Techniques

You went from creating woven paintings, which were very structured, to your more recent bodies of work, which are more free form. Was your move into more free-form painting like a return to the organic nature of the darkroom? 

In my painting now, I get the same sense of freedom that I did working with darkroom chemicals. There is an element of chance and accident in both processes that can be really exciting. Analog photography allowed me to play with the “accidents” of chemicals and now I’m looking at painting in the same way–and embracing those accidents as “happy accidents.”

In my process I use pastry bags to squeeze out paint. Oftentimes, mixing a variety of different colors within the pastry bags themselves, I don’t always know how that mixing will go or what the final result will be. Allowing the paint to mix on its own in this way creates a lot of organic excitement in the final result. At first when I started working this way I would try to eliminate air bubbles to get clean strands of paint. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate them and the way they impact the texture of the painting. Now I find myself working in ways that highlights this texture, rather than trying to hide it. My job is really just to listen to that material and give it the freedom to do what it wants to do. 

Discarded strips of cured, multi-colored paint hang from a wooden branch against a white background. The paint strips are a variety of colors including blue, red, yellow, and black.

Your current practice feels very tied to the mastery of your materials. Can you speak to this?

In my previous woven work I was playing with the idea of paint hiding and revealing itself physically. I’ve always been drawn to texture as a means of creating a space for that paint to be sculptural. I don’t consciously think about mastering materials, I look for options with paint and what it can do. The limits it has and the parameters I put on it; I’m consistently finding ways to manipulate it in a way that keeps me interested.

Ultimately, the material is a vehicle for artistic expression. I work with acrylic paint which is unique in that it dries really fast, but it also has a lot of malleability to it once it’s dry. I turn the painting into something more sculptural by playing not only with the 3D qualities of the texture, but to bend the strands I’m making to create shaped paintings that feel more like objects rather than flat canvases. 

A close-up detail of a stained glass window by Robert Davidovitz, highlighting a visible crack in a yellow pane of glass. The cracked pane is surrounded by red and blue glass sections.

The Challenge of Scale and the Beauty of Breakage in Art

Can you talk about your work in stained glass? 

Glass is inherently fragile, but it is also strong. My grandfather worked with glass, my dad worked with glass. As a child it was the first artistic medium that I had exposure to.  I would play in my father’s studio cutting glass, assembling it, and learning about drafting. Glass is an intergenerational material for my family

A couple of years ago, I was invited by a small window gallery called Fenster, to create my first public installation. I wanted to really pay homage to my family’s history with glass and so the large-scale stained glass piece I created for this exhibition was a reproduction of a window depicted in a small painting by Marc Chagall of a synagogue that was destroyed during the war in Vilnius, Lithuania. I was quite drawn to the composition of this window, in recreating it I included the lines where the window was broken. In a way this piece became a symbol of the fragility of my family’s history. Those cracks in the panes of the glass, where they were, were a really important part of the piece that I felt really connected to– not only to my cultural heritage but my process– the lines in the glass reminded me so much of how I paint. 

A detail view of a stained glass installation by Robert Davidovitz. The piece features two vertical panels with circular, brightly colored geometric patterns and cracked clear glass, framed by black lines.

Since making that piece, I’ve been reflecting on the air bubbles in glass. I see the connection with these and the air bubbles I celebrate in my paintings. Both are inevitable byproducts within the materials. Glass became yet another vehicle for me to think about paint comparing their structure, strength and fragility. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to work with glass again.

A full view of a public art installation by Robert Davidovitz, featuring a large, stained-glass window with red, blue, and yellow geometric shapes in a storefront gallery.

Subverting Gender and Challenging the Status Quo

Another interesting aspect of your practice is the examination of gender. Your photography focused on interrogating ideas of masculinity and queerness. With your current work you’re also questioning gender roles. Can you speak about this?

When I was working in photography, I focused a lot on the body and different kinds of representation of the male body. When I transitioned to working with paint, although the paintings that I make now are quite abstract, the majority of my practice happens to be calling on the traditions of textiles and gendered labor. I’m very conscious of the fact that I am subverting certain gender stereotypes related to the material and process–the idea that weaving is a feminine craft. I approach it differently, from a queer perspective and reappropriate that craft, almost to challenge the status quo.

I’m referencing the canon of art history as well, specifically Abstract Expressionism, which was very male dominated. There’s quite a lot of gendered, macho baggage around it that I was interested in exploring. Making these AbEx-style weavings became an outlet to approach gender in a different, abstracted way.

I’m weaving, but I’m working with paint;  creating these ambiguous objects. In my practice I play with blending these two histories.

A woven painting by Robert Davidovitz. The piece is composed of vertical strands of red and teal paint woven together on a neutral background, creating a striped textile-like pattern.

Can you talk about your studio space?

I’ve been in this space for over ten years now. It is not the most glamorous studio–it doesn’t have natural light and it’s a shared space. But, it’s a place where I can make an absolute mess. Although my work looks very clean and very controlled, the process of making it is quite messy. 

Oftentimes I’m splattering paint all over myself, all over the ground, all over the walls. This studio is a space for me to play, to make mistakes. 

The building itself is really amazing, it’s essentially an artist colony. I’m always running into my friend around the corner or somebody else who’s moved into the building.

It’s really nice to have a community around. I can reach out to a neighbor and get their perspective on what I’m doing, or just to see what they’re doing. And that’s very special to me. With all of the development happening in Toronto I’m very grateful that this is still here.  

A large, arch-shaped painting by Robert Davidovitz on a white background. The surface is black with white splatter marks, evoking a night sky or a galaxy.

You were recently part of a group exhibition, The Haptics of Objects, and you showed a new body of work. These pieces are less about pattern and color, as they were about shape and scale. Tell us about this new direction.

There has been a big shift in my practice over the past couple of years. Getting away from the heavy patterning, I decided to start playing with paint on its own– these new works read more like objects. My studio is a pretty tight space, and I had hesitated in exploring working with a larger scale but knew that I wanted to bend the strands in a way that I’ve never done before. So, the work for this exhibition is about scale and about curves. When I was working on these pieces there was a freedom in the way that the strands themselves were exposed. I wanted to really just let them be what they want to be and not over manipulate them, to not hide them in a way.

That really was the biggest shift for me in this exhibition; allowing for freedom in the materiality, which inspired the organic shapes of the pieces.

As I started developing these pieces, it made me think of the history of abstract, minimalist painting that I spent so much time studying. It also happened that Frank Stella passed away as I was developing this show and I think I was thinking about my connection to his paintings and other artists of his generation and their desire to push the idea of materials in a very honest, very constructive way.

A shaped painting by Robert Davidovitz. The black, S-shaped paint strips with white speckles, reminiscent of a starry sky. The bottom section of the curve reveals the individual strands of paint.
A close-up detail of a shaped painting by Robert Davidovitz. The black paint strips curve in a wavy line and is covered in white splatter marks, reminiscent of stars.

The Importance of a Professional Portfolio

Tell us about the role of your portfolio in your career.

My portfolio plays a really important part in my career, because you never know who you talk to and who might be interested in your work. It’s critical to have this ever-present, professional space to share with people. I will be at an event and someone will ask to see my work. It’s crucial to have that website to share with them, and a great opportunity to show a snapshot of your work and your practice all at the same time.

My portfolio is ever-evolving, it is an ongoing project that is always changing with me and my work. Having a website I can keep up to date is this great opportunity to always have a dedicated space for my work. 

My portfolio website is a really amazing space to show the full history of my practice and to highlight what I’m making today. It, and social media are really key: social media is about engagement and it’s about sharing what you are doing, what you’re thinking about. Both important but operate differently. It’s important for me to always hold that space for my portfolio.

A woven painting by Robert Davidovitz. The piece is composed of vertical strands of black and yellow paint woven together on a neutral background, creating a striped pattern.

Where to Find Robert Davidovitz’s Work

What’s next for you? What’s exciting you in the studio?

One of the things I’m most interested in right now is actually bringing color back into my work. As I was working on pushing the forms for the last show, I was working exclusively in black and white. I feel like color has really excited me recently and I’ve been exploring unusual color combinations. Really, pursuing some of the ideas that came up while developing my recent exhibition at Namara Projects.

See more of Robert Davidovitz’s work on his Format-Portfolio-Website, and follow him on Instagram.

Inspired by Robert’s journey to create a dedicated space for your work? You can build your own beautiful portfolio website, sign up for a free trial, no credit card required format.com/try.

Robert Davidovitz artist portfolio website

Baue dein Portfolio mit Format auf

Der #1 Online-Portfolio-Builder wird von Künstlern und Machern bewertet.

Heute mit dem Bauen beginnen

Mitwirkende

  • Stanzie Tooth ist Künstlerin, Autorin und Pädagogin und lebt in Toronto, Ontario. Sie hat sich auf das Zeichnen und Malen spezialisiert und ihre Werke international ausgestellt. Neben ihrer Tätigkeit als Künstlerin hat Stanzie Tooth auch als Professorin gearbeitet und unterrichtet Atelier, Kunstgeschichte und Berufspraxis. In ihren Texten würdigt sie die Arbeit zeitgenössischer Künstler/innen und ermutigt sie mit Tipps zur professionellen Praxis, um ihre kreative Vision zu unterstützen.

Neueste