N° 6 , 1991, Paris

                                                      Pages : 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77,

Martine BERNARD  


                                                                  ODY SABAN


              In Ody Saban’s dream world, “Catal  Hüyük, Byzantium and the Mosque” form a legendary, tentacular trinity that you want to embrace. This” Wirling Dervish” is fascinating and casts all the spell of “Lilith” to lure us into the maze of an ageless, boundless world without a beginning or an end.

                This girl from Istanbul drags out all “Her Mother’s Trousseau” to reweave her bitter childhood, ceaselessly torn between the Israeli drama and Topkapi Eden. Her work as transparent as truth teaches us under the “Waq-Waq Tree” many a mystery that should be revealed to all of Europe.

                 Between the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus, one plunges into life as into death. Down there, memory matches the lagoon and weaves bounds between cultures that are the colour of eternity.

                 Everybody is back in his element, “Roots in the water and Trunk in the Air”. “ Mer Han” arbitrates the excesses and deciphers the interlaced calligrams to guide men like Ariane did with her thread.

                  In this painter’s garden of shapes and tints, Ody grows all kinds of plants, even that of the soul. She questions the flowers of our memory, the moon flowers, the wise ones and the most oriental ones. The “Cannibal Tulip”, as the “ Islamic Star”, is part of the initiation. As gluttonous as a Gorgon, she orders us to play, hooks us with her petals, and rewards us at the journey’s end with exile.

                  You need the strength to lift an altar if you hope to get free of these aggressive shadows and paths that lead nowhere, and escape from the ochre labyrinth of all these detoured aisles.

                  Ody Saban likes heroic obstacle courses, violent colours( some of them are demoniacal). She depicts an Orient that is fabulous, aggressive and warlike.

                 She revives all sorts of myths using a panoply of Oudja Eye, moon crescents, sacrificed bull’s horns,” Hellish Breasts” and even a blue phallus”Alevî”.

                This “Art Nomad” abhors vacuums, and cultivates analogies like the sun of differences. She unceasingly pits contraries against each other – life and death, love and hate, organic things and geometric shapes, outlined with Indian inks so they confronts each other clearly. The “ Egyptian Matrix” reminds viewers of her “ Tormented Women”. The static hieroglyphics recall the dancing arabesques that formed stars on the carpet of her childhood.

              “The Fusion of Isis into Lilith” is part of the artist’s legendary decor, gently exported on muslin paper. It ends up by melting into beautiful religions, into the Great All, into the mystery of her poetic, erotic and mystical day dreams.

                She is a painter, writer and mother all at once. Ody Saban’s life fits into a triology, a marvellous feminine triangle. Its base is receptivity, and its two sides, uneasiness and generosity.