Curator Melanie Erixon is in conversation with artist Darren Tanti about his new experimental exhibition ‘In Search of the Unknown’ at il-Kamra ta’ Fuq, which runs until July 6.
“This marks our fifth collaboration on Darren’s solo exhibitions, and with Darren; it’s always a
uniquely rewarding experience,” explains Erixon.
“It all began with his comeback after a four-year absence from the art scene: Aħmar Ħelu u
Qares, where Darren explored the emotional duality of losing his grandfather while also
celebrating the birth of his daughter, Scarlett. Visitors still refer to it as the RED Exhibition.”
“This was followed by the major exhibition Inaction is a Weapon of Mass Destruction, which
spanned two venues—Spazju Kreattiv and il-Kamra ta’ Fuq—a significant feat in itself. The little
room upstairs underwent its most dramatic transformation in over 50 exhibitions, fully clad in
gypsum to evoke a clinical atmosphere.”
“Another ambitious project followed: Apotheosis, presented across the two oratories of the Jesuit
Church in Valletta. Then, back at il-Kamra ta’ Fuq, Darren delved into a memory experiment,
reinterpreting classical artworks purely from memory in Remember/Dismember – Chapter 1.
Now, it’s time for more experimentation with his latest exhibition, In Search of the Unknown,
once again hosted at il-Kamra ta’ Fuq until July 6.”
Erixon talks to Tanti to find out more:
Let’s start with the title—In Search of the Unknown. What does the “unknown” mean to you in the context of this body of work?
It is difficult to explain the feeling of the ‘unknown’ that seeks to manifest itself through a conscious creative act. Perhaps it can be compared to an unresolved issue, something that lingers like background noise at the edge of one’s mind. One may try to ignore it, but in its silence and persistence, it keeps both the conscious and subconscious on edge.
In this particular body of work, the unknown remains undisclosed; it has not yet fully revealed itself. However, fragments of it may be starting to surface through patterns, arrangements, motifs, and specific techniques., So far, the best way I can describe this ‘unknown’ is as a need to extract a kind of essence from visual stimuli—whether drawn from classical artworks, original compositions, or anything else I encounter. This extraction does not follow a standardized form; it is an organic and raw process. At times, it emerges hesitantly; at others, it bursts forth with aggression.
Generally, I feel compelled to act through painting—through abstraction, the layering of forms,
the quoting of works by great masters, and the creation of my own visual language—in order to
forge a pathway for creation.
This exhibition is more of an open process than a finalised series. Why did you choose to show the ‘in-between’? And are there any ‘solutions’ from these experiments, that you’d like to delve more into?
Over the past four years, I’ve been engaged in a period of creative experimentation and risk-taking. After the loss of my grandfather and the birth of my daughter—two profound life events that occurred within a short span—my understanding of life and meaning shifted significantly. I lost interest in following conventional, overly calculated, and safe artistic paths.
Today, many artists think of themselves in terms of a brand. Like a brand, they aim to carve out an identity within the art world that is defined by a specific set of aesthetic or conceptual values, allowing audiences to ‘recognize’ them. This makes perfect sense, especially for those seeking to establish a strong presence in the art market.
In my case, however, I would rather present myself as an artist engaged in constant research and tireless experimentation, an artist not led by trends, institutions, or the market, but guided
by the sheer act of artistic inquiry, development, and exploration. While I believe I’ve developed
a recognizable aesthetic over the years, I don’t shy away from risks or the possibility of failure.
It’s okay to take risks, after all, I’m a painter working on a canvas, failure won’t kill anyone! If I
fail, I try again and again, until I succeed or until I find another creative challenge to pursue.
This process is dynamic and, more often than not (at least in my experience), unpredictable. As
a result, I often end up with multiple non-homogeneous directions to choose from. This brings me to an important realisation: much of this process unfolds privately, in the studio.
It’s a stage of practice that is often pruned out of the final, resolved exhibition. As both an artist
and educator, I find that a great deal of excitement resides in this creative process yet it’s often
lost once the artwork is considered ‘finished.’ Understandably, artists want to present polished
and resolved pieces to their audiences, works supported by clearly defined concepts and
visuals. However, for this project, I wanted to present the act of research itself.
On the four walls of the Kamra ta’ Fuq, you are presented with four sets of works, each distinct, yet interlinked. This is because the exhibition offers a real-time snapshot of what is happening in my studio. As we speak, I am still working on canvases related to those on display, continuing my search for the ‘unknown.’
I believe that showing the different creative paths an artist might take—or choose to abandon—offers an intriguing experience for the viewer. Naturally, in such a project, you may witness interesting developments, moments of success, but also doubt and uneasiness. And that’s precisely the point. Through this project, I am presenting myself in an unfiltered, unguarded way to the audience.
How do you balance instinct with intention when you’re in this stage of
exploration?
Perhaps, with time, I am becoming more instinctive—allowing whatever needs to happen to simply unfold. At times, I feel that too much intention can become stifling, leading to an end result that feels overly calculated or forced.
That said, having a general direction remains important, as it helps filter the infinite possibilities inherent in the creative process into a coherent body of work. Then again, it may simply depend on one’s mood or state of mind at a given moment, factors that influence whether the work unfolds primarily through instinct or through logical planning. In this project, In Search of the Unknown, I believe these tensions are heightened—made visible for the viewer to observe and reflect upon.
You’ve incorporated reinterpretations of works by Cabanel, Caravaggio, and Van Dyck. What draws you back to classical art, and how do you decide what to reinvent?
I’ve been fascinated by the Old Masters since I was a young child. My uncle and grandfather introduced me to the works of Caravaggio, Mattia Preti, Francesco Zahra, and Giuseppe Calì. I would spend entire weekends trying to copy these artists, studying their techniques in an effort to learn from them and somehow capture their mastery.
As I grew older and pursued further studies in art, I gradually moved away from this practice. I gravitated towards realism and eventually hyperrealism. But over time, I found myself returning to these Old Masters, not to copy them, but to engage in a dialogue with them. I began to play with and reinvent their imagery, and in doing so, I began to ‘appropriate’ their beautiful works by making them my own.
Traces of this practice can be seen in my work as early as 2010, but it truly came to the fore in the 2023 project Remember/Dismember—a body of work centered on memory. The selection of which artworks and artists to reinvent often happens instinctively. I experience fleeting mental snapshots—sometimes of paintings I haven’t seen in years, resurfacing vividly in my mind’s eye, often accompanied by a sort of ‘set of instructions’ or impulses about how to reinterpret them.
In truth, there are certain artists I naturally gravitate towards: Velázquez, Caravaggio, Valentin de Boulogne, Rubens, Rembrandt, Van Dyck, W.A. Bouguereau, and L.A. Tadema are among the most influential. In the case of Cabanel’s presence in this project, it was actually the abstract works that led me to revisit his oeuvre. While there is an evident link with Remember/Dismember, new elements are beginning to emerge—the ‘unknown’ is surfacing through abstraction, new forms,
compositions, and colour palettes.
The cut-out technique reappears here but with new twists. Can you walk us
through how this evolved in your recent practice?
To properly answer this question, I must first point out that between this project and
Remember/Dismember, there exists an entire body of work that, although never exhibited, plays a crucial role in the development of my current practice. In that series, one can observe a natural progression from the painterly silhouettes of Remember/Dismember to a crisper, more graphic hard-edged outline, filled with abstracted colour inspired by reinterpreted classical artworks.
The current works continue along this trajectory. Many of the pieces presented here feature a ‘cut-out’ aesthetic, at times used as a tool for abstraction, and at other times employed as a trompe-l’œil device. In this selection, I also experiment with areas of flat colour, onto which I incorporate plays of embossing and cast shadows. This cut-out technique is applied not only to figurative forms but also to purely abstract ones. The result is an optical illusion of low relief, giving the impression that certain forms are physically jutting out from the surface of the canvas.
There’s a recurring use of grisaille and raw, expressive colour, especially that bubblegum pink! Is there a reason behind these visual choices?
Originally, the use of grisaille was carried over from the Remember/Dismember project, where
colour was applied to the background while the figures were rendered in grisaille to create a
clear distinction between the two dimensions. I felt this effect was successful, and I continued to
explore it in subsequent works.
In Remember/Dismember, the palette was derived by recalling the original artwork and using its colours as the basis for the composition. However, in this current body of work, I’ve followed a more instinctive approach. Lately, I’ve been drawn to soft, pastel hues, and I’m enjoying the process of working with them. Bubblegum pink, powder blue, and pistachio green are among
the colours I’m discovering and experimenting with. I feel that this new palette introduces a different atmosphere to the work. Unlike my previous colour schemes, these tones imbue the paintings with a sense of serenity and playfulness, a shift I find full of potential.
You’re absolutely right: “When do you stop?”
Once, someone told me that Leonardo da Vinci said, “A painting is never finished, only abandoned.” When working on a project of this nature, where the unfinished can still be considered complete, one must learn when to stop. More often than not, it’s far better to hold back than to risk overworking the piece. It’s important to preserve the freshness of the colours and the spontaneity of the brushstrokes. This becomes even more challenging when the painting’s objective is unclear, when there’s no defined endpoint. In such cases, you can’t see the finish line; you can only feel it.
To search for the unknown inevitably involves the experience of being lost. Imagine being tasked with searching for something across the entire known universe, with the caveat that you’ll only recognize it once your instinct tells you that you’ve found it. That is exactly what I experienced during the creative processes that led to the selected artworks.
It’s crucial to learn how to let go, not to force creativity, but to allow it to emerge naturally. As Zhuangzi illustrates, one must be like the drunk man who falls from a cart. He doesn’t brace himself or resist the fall; he simply lets go. His body is relaxed, and because he is unaware, he is free from fear and resistance. He is in tune with the natural flow of things. This very ability to surrender ultimately saves him from serious injury and gives him the opportunity to live another day; in my case to create on another day.
You’re also an educator. How does teaching influence your own artistic
investigations?
I tend to see my studio practice and my work as an art educator as intersecting and mutually enriching. In an ideal world, my studio would also be my classroom, and my classroom would function as my studio. I firmly believe that an art teacher should maintain an active studio practice, one that positions them as a perpetual student. In this way, the teacher becomes a senior student: someone with experience to share, yet constantly learning alongside their pupils. This dynamic creates a shared learning environment where the teacher’s development evolves through continuous interaction with students.
I fear that when an art teacher ceases their own artistic practice, they risk losing their most vital attribute: the search for creativity and innovation. Without an active engagement in the creative
process, the teacher’s knowledge can quickly become outdated, particularly in a world where both the art scene and technology are in constant flux.
This pedagogical philosophy directly informs how I approach my work and exhibitions. In the project In Search of the Unknown, I chose to exhibit the research process that typically unfolds behind studio walls, those often invisible or pruned elements that rarely make it into the final, polished exhibition. As educators, we frequently stress the importance of the creative process, sometimes even valuing it more than the final outcome. We encourage students to appreciate the journey as much as the destination. With this in mind, I decided to showcase four distinct processes, one for each wall of Kamra ta’ Fuq. Each process reveals different developments, possibilities, and even creative dead ends.
This project offers a rare glimpse into the often chaotic and unpredictable nature of artistic experimentation, the phase that precedes resolution. Hence the title: In Search of the Unknown.
The ‘unknown’ will reveal itself only when the time is right. I see this exhibition as a
transformation of the gallery into an open classroom, a space where the viewer is invited to
witness the unfolding of the creative act itself.
Without giving too much away, can you hint at what you’re working on next?
The current project exhibits different trajectories that are happening within my studio. New work is already developing, with exciting results already showing. The new work will (probably) bring together elements from the hyperrealist aesthetics that I have explored for several years, elements from the ongoing project Remember/Dismember and developments from the new possibilities discovered in In Search of the Unknown. So the project will bring together all these various elements and hopefully lead to new visual and conceptual creative paths.
Darren Tanti: In Search of the Unknown runs until July 6