Ostensibly, Tsibi Geva’s blue stands in contradiction to the emotional turbulence and creative tumult unfolding across the stretched canvases in his studio. Colours are hurled down in anger — perhaps, in fact, without intention at all, but out of a generative movement around the work. Imagine the artist engaged in a ritual of painting: laying the support on the floor, moving like a pendulum around it; or hanging it from a hook, cutting, gluing, slicing, and marking the seams with further stains of colour. And then, suddenly, blue emerges: a colour almost entirely absent from Geva’s work. A different colour — solitary, withdrawn, quiet and deep, ember-like, seducing softly, like death.

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