Rudi Ninov

“BULGARIAN CURRY” beginning this Friday

Opening Event serving Curry
28. Feb. 6-9pm
Elaine’s Room, Neckarstraße 7, Frankfurt am Main

Hey Louisa and Juliane!
I wanted to write down a few thoughts following my conversation with Louisa earlier this week, which I know you’ve already discussed. I also rewatched the videos I sent from my studio.

Recently, I had to send away almost every canvas I had in the studio to Continua in Italy for an upcoming show, for that reason I have no paintings or sculptures to show, of the work you know.

In the video, I showed you my windows, which are always covered in wax paper. Because they face true North, they function like a permanent  light box—the light levels don’t change. And I really mean true North… when I checked my iPhone’s compass, it showed 0º. I tape random pieces onto them—cutouts, dried leaves, shapes cut from coloured plastic film, notes, comic strips, drawings, postcards, texts, etc. These materials and objects spark thoughts about painting but don’t necessarily end up on the canvas.

I wanted to create something about painting that doesn’t necessarily become a painting—more like a leftover of painting. A kind of ode or dedication.

I use this word because, in the process of painting, I often hit a wall—a moment where the work catches on something. A Bit. Not just an idea of where the painting could potentially end, but a bit in the theatrical sense—an act, a routine, something self-aware of its own narrative and existence. It’s a point where the painting almost performs itself, teetering between becoming and undoing. Sometimes, it moves so far beyond me that I feel like I’m just sitting in my studio, watching an act unfold. Some paintings become so complex that I push their meaning to an extreme, reducing them to a single, absolute thing—a sign or a symbol. To give in to the totality of the painting.

A Bit is also a recognisable image, a trace—something left behind. Or language.

But that’s sticky business… this bit always wants to stick around, and I feel like a lot of my efforts go into shaking it off… If that’s possible at all. It is also a mark that carries the weight of what came before it while gesturing toward something beyond itself. In that moment, the painting folds in on itself, fully embracing its imaginary plane.

So, back to the video of my windows. I started thinking about bringing this visual assemblage into the space as a kind of light box or light container—something that would sit above the counter, like a shrine dedicated to the abstract. At the same time, I immediately thought about offering something alongside it, as the café space naturally allows for that. The act of giving felt like an intuitive part of the work.

When Louisa first called me about this, I immediately thought about cooking in the space and serving it at the opening. For the past couple of years, every Sunday, I’ve been making a curry for Gainy and me at home. I don’t know why curry specifically—maybe because I first got hooked on it around Brick Lane in London when I was a kid, and never let it go. Plus, a Bulgarian making curry sounds a bit of a joke…maybe we should call the show that.

Bulgarian Curry
(briefly on Brick Lane - I spent about five years in and around that area as I was in a youth program at the Whitechapel Gallery, which begun around 2009/2010.  We’d meet weekly to talk Art, and organise events with the local community.  We had the official title of Young Curators but we renamed it to Duchamp & Sons… I’ll tell you more about it at the opening. )

The ingredients change slightly each week, depending on what’s available in the veggie section at Rewe. So I thought—why not share this with people?

Let me know what you think.
Best
Rudi

p.s.
I sent you a sketch I made on my iPhone. It’s just a rough indication of scale, without any details or specific information. I plan to build it out of light wood, like pine, keeping it as a simple outline of a box—similar to what’s already in my studio. I’ll extend it on legs so it can sit on the counter. For stability, I could clamp it onto the worktop and also secure it with fishing wire to the light construction above.

From there, I want to leave things open to whatever happens on the day of installation. I’ll play around with collage, colours, and text—maybe incorporating some drawings and printed matter as well. I will also place around a few of my LED bulbs which are ablate change colour with a remote.