
Vilte Fuller | the shuttle to the moon has crashed and now I am falling
There is a haunting that obsesses and torments trend forecasters and influencers, the great tyrants of standardized beauty. We are talking about the fear of a devastating plague, a destructive nuisance: bad taste. Because there is no worse insult, nor more terrible undermining of reputation than that, some are ready to do anything to avoid it. Ready to lose critical thinking, creativity, judgment. Ready to advocate minimalism and neutrality, no risk-taking and cowardice. The result? The disappearance of color, of subject, of meaning. The disappearance even of the impression. We swallow with infinite scrolls homogeneous interiors forgetting that there was a time when we bought according to our feelings and not to meet the aesthetic diktats of a digitalized logbook in 6 x 6 format. Today, the price to pay for being wrong is so high, that we no longer choose, we follow, leaving our own taste aside...
The Anglo-Lithuanian artist Vilte Fuller brings a wind of freshness and novelty in this sometimes-aseptic universe. She is part of this new generation of artists who are not afraid to shock or displease. Vilte puts down on her small formats her so particular, so unique universe, composed of contradictions, juxtapositions and incompatibilities. On her canvases, sometimes sewn together, concrete spaces are born, paradoxical receptacles of the artist’s imagination. The painting becomes a heterotopia, a concept described by Michel Foucault that refers us to our childhood huts, real places from which the unreal is spontaneously born. On a few centimeters Vilte enables the cohabitation of a very Basic Instinct Sharon Stone, the terrifying universe of the mangaka Junji Ito and some references to the Polish surrealism of the painter of nightmares Zdzisław Beksiński. We also discover the artist’s heritage integrating Lithuanian folklore that depict sinister and unpredictable realities that don’t fit cookie cutter tales of ‘happily ever after.’ All the genius of this young artist lies in the dissonance and the ability to unite the glamorous plastic of an androgynous figure with a phallic alien looking like a pickle. Side by side, Vilte Fuller’s small formats appear as chapters in a long narrative, tracing the discreet advent of a singular generation, creator of a myriad of subcultures. Vilte’s work is the pure expression of this, between caustic criticism of standardized taste, rejection of past mechanisms and creation of other spaces. New "beauty" that questions, intrigues and invites to discover the libertarian challenges of the new millennium.