Campoli Presti is pleased to present the debut exhibition by the Argentinian artist, Valentina Liernur in London opening on 5th September. Liernur was born in Buenos Aires where she trained in painting and dramatic arts, later studying at the Städelschule in Frankfurt. Her practice focuses on painting and the possibilities of the bi-dimensional picture plane in order to explore contrasting elements such as masculine/feminine, amateur/professional, chaos/control, high/low culture, local/global. Liernur's paintings often put into relation the mode of functioning of the fashion industry with modernist utopian ideals.

Liernur produces various compilations and series of artworks that are displayed in each exhibition like seasonal collections. The works deconstruct a science of commodities that involve seduction, fetish, and stylistic enumerations from art history which explore the crossing point where art production, style and the fashion industry intersect.

In Corruzione, her latest solo exhibition in New York, the stretched denim surface of the works was marked with abrasions and tears, evoking Lucio Fontana's cuts on the canvas while making equal reference to Chanel's Fall/Winter 2015 jeans collection. For her Interior Paulista series, Liernur recontextualizes Hélio Oiticica and Christopher Kane's spring/summer collection from 2013 exploring the idea of fragmentation and gender-related color conventions.

Valentina Liernur (1978) lives and works in Buenos Aires. Recent solo exhibition include Corruzione (2014) at Reena Spaulings Fine Art, New York; Valentina Liernur (2012), and Fiebre (2010) at Ruth Benzacar; Buenos Aires. Recent group shows have been held at New Galerie (2013), New York; Gramatura (2012), Sao Paulo; Formalistsidewalkpoetryclub (2011), Miami; and Westfalischer Kunstverein (2009), Münster.

NO ME ACUERDO CUALES ERAN ESOS JEANS

me acabo de tomar 5 antidepresivos con cerveza
y en la calle
todo es mejor.
Fumo un cigarrillo y se me cae de las manos
no tengo fuerzas y me encanta
disfruto de no ser yo misma.
Salir y tirarme en la vereda es mi diversión.
Hace 4 meses que es mi hábito preferido porque
descubrí el placer de evitar el dolor.
A pesar de esto creo que me estoy muriendo de tristeza, día a día.
Cuando no estoy en la calle pongo música linda en mi cuarto
y me encierro a soñar todo lo que me estoy perdiendo.
Todos los días la misma linda música.
Me eleva y caigo como un pedazo de brea derretida sobre el colchón
cuando no caigo sobre el piso.
Después
limpiar un poco con la palma de mi mano mi jean roto.
Ya dejé todo
pero no por Dios,
porque sí
porque le encontré un gusto especial a abandonarme.
Tengo un jean sucio
manchado de baba y cerveza y pedacitos de Express.
En la calle no pido plata, ni me la dan.
Nadie me mira.
los perros me huelen.
No tengo frío
es pleno invierno
y dejé de ser una chica friolenta.
Ahora no soy yo.
Hoy no sé que me pasó
que prendí la computadora.
Hacía cuatro meses y algo que no la prendía.
Eso que no vi a un chico bello.
Eso que hoy no ví nada especial en la calle.
No sucedíó nada raro o diferente.
Puse la misma linda música de siempre.
Encontré una mandarina tirada en el piso y me la comí.
Me puse una regla en la cabeza
para que haga equilibrio.
No siento nada especial hoy.
O tal vez sea que hoy la recordé, con su belleza infinita,
y tuve celos,
envidia y pánico
y por eso me decidí a hacer algo.
Como en los días cuando era yo misma.

Fernanda Laguna, Control o no control, Poemas 1999-2011. Mansalva. Colección Poesía y Ficción Latinoamericana, Buenos Aires, 2012.

I DON’T REMEMBER WHICH JEANS THOSE WERE

I’m sitting on the sidewalk with my ripped jeans
I just chased down 5 antidepressants with beer
and in the street
everything is better.
I smoke a cigarette and it falls from my hands
I have no strength and I love it
I enjoy not being myself.
Going out and plopping down on the sidewalk is my idea of fun.
It’s been my habit of choice for the last four months because
I discovered how good it feels to avoid pain.
Despite all this I think I must be dying of sadness, day by day.
When I’m not out in the street I put on good music in my room
and I shut myself away to dream about everything I’m missing.
Every day the same good music.
I rise and fall like a piece of tar melting on the mattress
when I don’t fall onto the floor.
Then
I use my hand to brush off my ripped jeans.
I left it all
but not for God,
just because
because it felt especially good to let myself go.
I’m wearing dirty jeans
stained with spit and beer and little pieces of Express crackers.
On the street I don’t beg for change, and no one gives any.
Nobody looks at me.
Dogs sniff at me.
I’m not cold
it’s the middle of winter
and I stopped being a girl who runs cold.
Now I’m not me.
I don’t know what made me
turn on the computer today.
It’s been four months and more since I’ve turned it on.
Without even seeing a beautiful boy.
Without even seeing anything special in the street today.
Nothing weird or unexpected happened.
I put on the same good music as always.
I found a tangerine someone dropped on the ground and I ate it.
I made a rule in my head
to create some balance.
I don’t feel anything special today.
But maybe it’s because today I remembered her, with her infinite
beauty,
and I was jealous,
envious and full of panic
and that’s why I decided to do something.
Like I would have in the days when I was me.

Belleza y Felicidad: Selected Writings of Fernanda Laguna and Cecilia Pavón, translated by Stuart Krimko, Key West: Sand Paper Press, 2014.