The Chandelier of the Arsonist

Exhibition
The Chandelier of the Arsonist
Kaliya Kalacheva and Stoyan Ilev
18 February  – 8 March

Whether Kaliya Kalacheva and Stoyan Ilev ignite a stroke of genius or simply pour too much oil onto the fire is probably something only time could tell for sure. This is, indeed, the literal meaning of the Bulgarian word for ‘chandelier’, borrowed from the Greek ‘πολυέλαιος’, which in turn derives from roots ‘πολύς’ (much/many) and ‘ἔλαιον’ (olive oil). Even before the mass application of candles the ancient hung from the ceiling a pipe-shaped ceramic hoop with many mouths for flames to feed on the common fuel.

And even though they are not quite like the ones from the times of Augustus, but are rather fit for the interiors of Versailles, Kaliya’s chandeliers blaze with a type of fervour that seems to predate even the audacity of Prometheus. On the other hand, in his canvases Stoyan is capable of being as devastating as the fires in the Library of Alexandria, Notre Dame and California put together. In both cases their professional devotion rages ruthlessly.

And if you are now convinced of the proper functioning of the fire protection system at Rakursi Gallery but are still wondering how far the artists’ desire to play with fire goes, here is the actual story…

There lives in the netherworld an arsonist who hasn’t yet grown up. A long, long time ago he was a prince and for his eighth birthday his parents the king and queen gave him a splendid chandelier. The little arsonist got so enthusiastic about how brightly all its lights sparkled and illuminated everything in his room, that he craved to see them dance. He stepped on a little table, jumped up and pushed his new present with excitement. The chandelier started swinging and the little arsonist stared in awe how the lights drew all sorts of curious shapes in the air.

 Unfortunately, while the chandelier was swinging, drops of blazing oil flew out of one of the mouths and set on fire the fringes of the silk carpet on the floor. The little arsonist hopped up and extinguished the flames with his feet, but when his father saw the scene, he lost his temper and decided to deprive his son of his new present. The king meant to take down the chandelier and put it out but the little arsonist swiftly snatched it and rushed outside. He was running through the gardens of the palace and thought how one day the entire kingdom would be his alone and no one would be able to forbid him from anything.

 Out of the blue, while he was dashing by his mother’s favourite acacia tree, whose branches were heavy with clusters of yellow flowers, a thorn ran deep into his neck. The little arsonist screamed with pain and in his anger flung the chandelier as hard as he could. The blazing oil spread everywhere and in less than three days the whole kingdom was burnt to the ground. Not even a blade of grass survived the merciless catastrophe. Realising what he had done, the little arsonist wished the ground would open and swallow him up.

 To this very day, he is still eight, but now the entire kingdom is his alone.

 Theodossiy Gueorguiev, curator of the exhibition

 

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