JACAEBER KASTOR

In turns perplexing, disorienting, wondrous and utterly beguiling, Jacaeber Kastor’s drawings make you look, look again and then still more, trying to find your way in their miasmic magic until at last, well, you discover the special pleasure of being truly lost. And when you think you’re done, when you’ve decoded the esoteric and abstract, conjured all the forms and meanings from these oceans of latency, answered the call of otherness as if it were the sphinx’s riddle- turn the work or flip your head, around and around, because there is no single perspective to read Kastor’s psychedelic topography: it is an entwined and constantly unfolding omniverse that has no right side up or upside down. 

If, in the course of your wanderings through Kastor’s meandering poetics of line and space, you come across the unexpected, the oddly familiar or the impossibly alien- for indeed you surely will, quite possible all at once with overwhelming simultaneity- and you ask yourself how did you even come to get here, you might also ask how indeed did this artist arrive at just such a place himself. Make no mistake about it, Jacaeber Kastor is an intrepid voyager of body and mind, an adventurer without destination or designation, a man without return for even when he has somehow been there before he understands it as different, everything nuanced with the subtle shifts of imperceptible change, actuality always just beyond the tiny grasp of appearance, reason or replication. His art, like the convolutions of a restless mind guiding the inspired hand of uncertainty, is the tracings of a mind-traveler, a map to the nowhere that is everywhere, something so personally idiosyncratic that it marks a shared commons where likeness meets in a zone of compatible dissimilarity.

JACAEBER KASTOR

In turns perplexing, disorienting, wondrous and utterly beguiling, Jacaeber Kastor’s drawings make you look, look again and then still more, trying to find your way in their miasmic magic until at last, well, you discover the special pleasure of being truly lost. And when you think you’re done, when you’ve decoded the esoteric and abstract, conjured all the forms and meanings from these oceans of latency, answered the call of otherness as if it were the sphinx’s riddle- turn the work or flip your head, around and around, because there is no single perspective to read Kastor’s psychedelic topography: it is an entwined and constantly unfolding omniverse that has no right side up or upside down. 

If, in the course of your wanderings through Kastor’s meandering poetics of line and space, you come across the unexpected, the oddly familiar or the impossibly alien- for indeed you surely will, quite possible all at once with overwhelming simultaneity- and you ask yourself how did you even come to get here, you might also ask how indeed did this artist arrive at just such a place himself. Make no mistake about it, Jacaeber Kastor is an intrepid voyager of body and mind, an adventurer without destination or designation, a man without return for even when he has somehow been there before he understands it as different, everything nuanced with the subtle shifts of imperceptible change, actuality always just beyond the tiny grasp of appearance, reason or replication. His art, like the convolutions of a restless mind guiding the inspired hand of uncertainty, is the tracings of a mind-traveler, a map to the nowhere that is everywhere, something so personally idiosyncratic that it marks a shared commons where likeness meets in a zone of compatible dissimilarity.