In Basel, Vija Celmins as far as the eye can see

When she paints the sea, Vija Celmins does it like no one else. She does it systematically in a muted black and white, and above all, wavelet after wavelet, without leaving room for the horizon. The wave occupies the entire surface of the canvas, as far as the eye can see. From then on, it is impossible to find one's bearings and to know exactly what expanse is being painted. Is it an immense surface of water that is represented or is it a small patch of ocean seen up close? The same admirable confusion, stirred up by the motif itself, this undulating mass of water that offers only tiny variations, and therefore zero reference points, is repeated throughout the exhibition at the Fondation Beyeler. Except at the beginning, devoted to the early years of the American artist's career.

Born in 1938 in Latvia, she emigrated to California early on, but she was not like her peers who reflected the space and light of the West Coast. She painted still lifes that were limited to a domestic object depicted in dull grays and browns that were sometimes ignited by the incandescent red of the electric resistance of a hot plate ( Hot Plate , 1964) or a radiator (Heater), or even the yolks of four fried eggs ( Eggs , 1964). Objects without grace, but not without danger, incendiary in short, like an echo of the violence of the Cold War world. The threat is always dully rendered by Celmins, who between 1965 and 1967 painted bombers in full flight or the cover of Time Magazine