In front of a Krochka painting Nothing happens... - Lot 0 - Euvrard & Fabre

In front of a Krochka painting Nothing happens - everything happens. The eye, once captured by the fabric of the painting, never tires of lulling itself into the imperceptible movements of silence. If there's a smooth opaque surface, a thin film that forms an outer skin, the result of layers veiled like nebulous swathes of rain, pushed by the wind that makes the world disappear into an impermeable thickness, to which the veils come up against. Painting takes place on the outside, where color is deeper, mingled with black: nothing to see either, i.e. nothing to recognize, but to see purely, infinitely the vague, directionless movement, a breath, a vacillation. It is in relation to the outer surface that is its limit, that covers it and heals it: a palpable near silence joins a distant, unfathomable silence. Nothing happens, everything goes on continuously, no particular event takes place, barely a scar emerges like a clumsy seam where the inside is caught in the outside. In this context, color is at the farthest, most hidden end of its individual existence. It's neither blue nor yellow, but a suspended, greenish fusion where the yellow drowns on the surface and the blue sinks into the depths. She paints. She is the space of the painting and its body too, tracing its dimensions between exterior and interior. Inside, in its silence, the painting conceals a light as if living in the fusion of night. In this way, form is inverted, for it is interior, neither a tear nor a wound, but an opening onto a secret presence beyond the surface. 25-05-96 Helga MUTH