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West Gallery
Quezon City, Philippines
November 23, 2023
“Gods and Circles”
In the throes of contemporary visual culture, Bjorn Calleja emerges as an artist whose work oscillates between the visceral and the ethereal, casting a mirror onto the subconscious while deftly navigating the undercurrents of human experience. Calleja’s canvases are not mere aesthetic undertakings; they are orchestrations of thought—at once dense and delicate, where abstraction rubs against figuration, and meaning unfurls like a serpentine dance that refuses singular interpretation.
At the core of this exhibition lies the triadic interplay of numbers, forms, and gestures, where pieces such as “963” invoke the enigmatic power of numerical mysticism. These works appear to hum with frequencies, inviting us to consider the architecture of the cosmos as a matrix of vibrations, cycles, and hidden patterns—an epistemological inquiry rendered through the prismatic lens of Calleja’s surreal imagination. It is here that his hand conjures the notion of “God’s frequency,” not as a doctrine but as a question, as if each brushstroke is in search of divinity, its answer lying just beyond the visible spectrum.
The series “Studying Circles” unfolds as a meditation on the cyclical nature of existence. Repetition becomes a visual lexicon, where the act of “going in circles” is not merely a metaphor for stagnation but a profound reflection on life’s unyielding cycles—the inescapable orbit of human desire, failure, and transcendence. Calleja’s circles, vibrating with oil pastel hues, refuse to close definitively, their edges shimmering with the potential of continual motion. What we find here is the beauty and absurdity of endless pursuit, rendered with wit and a quiet existential anxiety.
In “Spiritual Hustler” and “Up There,” Calleja’s handling of the human form becomes a study in contradictions: the figures, suspended in a surreal limbo, signal both the ridiculousness and grandeur of spiritual pursuit. With hands gesturing in symbols loaded with meaning, Calleja weaves together sacred and profane narratives, challenging the viewer to reconcile the two. The ASL sign for “bullshit”—subtly positioned—winks at the viewer, suggesting that the spiritual quest, too, may be entangled in human artifice, an arena of performative sincerity that leaves one questioning what lies behind the veil.
Calleja’s mastery is in his ability to induce reflection without preaching. His humor, dry and sardonic, plays against the grandiosity of his themes, grounding his philosophical musings in the absurdity of the everyday. There is a Poe-like sensitivity to the unseen—a pull towards the metaphysical—and yet, his visual language remains tethered to the earth, wary of the illusions we construct and the circles in which we run.
In this body of work, Calleja does not seek to offer answers but to provoke questions. How does one navigate the circles of life without losing sight of what lies beyond them? Are we hustling for spiritual truth, or are we merely indulging in its spectacle? And, most importantly, in an age where frequency, vibration, and mysticism have been commodified, how do we reconnect to the authentic rhythm of existence?
Through deft hands and a knowing eye, Bjorn Calleja brings us closer to these uncertainties. He leads us in circles, pointing us up there, even as we’re reminded that what we seek may be a question as vast as the cosmos and as fleeting as a dream.
West Gallery
Quezon City, Philippines
November 23, 2023
“Gods and Circles”
In the throes of contemporary visual culture, Bjorn Calleja emerges as an artist whose work oscillates between the visceral and the ethereal, casting a mirror onto the subconscious while deftly navigating the undercurrents of human experience. Calleja’s canvases are not mere aesthetic undertakings; they are orchestrations of thought—at once dense and delicate, where abstraction rubs against figuration, and meaning unfurls like a serpentine dance that refuses singular interpretation.
At the core of this exhibition lies the triadic interplay of numbers, forms, and gestures, where pieces such as “963” invoke the enigmatic power of numerical mysticism. These works appear to hum with frequencies, inviting us to consider the architecture of the cosmos as a matrix of vibrations, cycles, and hidden patterns—an epistemological inquiry rendered through the prismatic lens of Calleja’s surreal imagination. It is here that his hand conjures the notion of “God’s frequency,” not as a doctrine but as a question, as if each brushstroke is in search of divinity, its answer lying just beyond the visible spectrum.
The series “Studying Circles” unfolds as a meditation on the cyclical nature of existence. Repetition becomes a visual lexicon, where the act of “going in circles” is not merely a metaphor for stagnation but a profound reflection on life’s unyielding cycles—the inescapable orbit of human desire, failure, and transcendence. Calleja’s circles, vibrating with oil pastel hues, refuse to close definitively, their edges shimmering with the potential of continual motion. What we find here is the beauty and absurdity of endless pursuit, rendered with wit and a quiet existential anxiety.
In “Spiritual Hustler” and “Up There,” Calleja’s handling of the human form becomes a study in contradictions: the figures, suspended in a surreal limbo, signal both the ridiculousness and grandeur of spiritual pursuit. With hands gesturing in symbols loaded with meaning, Calleja weaves together sacred and profane narratives, challenging the viewer to reconcile the two. The ASL sign for “bullshit”—subtly positioned—winks at the viewer, suggesting that the spiritual quest, too, may be entangled in human artifice, an arena of performative sincerity that leaves one questioning what lies behind the veil.
Calleja’s mastery is in his ability to induce reflection without preaching. His humor, dry and sardonic, plays against the grandiosity of his themes, grounding his philosophical musings in the absurdity of the everyday. There is a Poe-like sensitivity to the unseen—a pull towards the metaphysical—and yet, his visual language remains tethered to the earth, wary of the illusions we construct and the circles in which we run.
In this body of work, Calleja does not seek to offer answers but to provoke questions. How does one navigate the circles of life without losing sight of what lies beyond them? Are we hustling for spiritual truth, or are we merely indulging in its spectacle? And, most importantly, in an age where frequency, vibration, and mysticism have been commodified, how do we reconnect to the authentic rhythm of existence?
Through deft hands and a knowing eye, Bjorn Calleja brings us closer to these uncertainties. He leads us in circles, pointing us up there, even as we’re reminded that what we seek may be a question as vast as the cosmos and as fleeting as a dream.
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