Interview
Catalin Domniteanu
Catalin was born in the picturesque city of Galati, situated on the shores of the Danube River. Galati is embraced by a sprawling outdoor metal sculpture park to the east, along the riverfront, and guarded by a metallurgy giant to the west. During his engineering studies, he became captivated by stained glass and its powerful effect created by the passage of light through transparencies. However, at the time, there were no stained-glass studios in the region, and guided learning was not available. After graduating in 1995, Catalin spent several years developing the technique independently through direct observation and extensive experimentation. He eventually mastered the lead came method and further honed his skills by pursuing painting training at the Lower Danube Cultural Centre in Galati. This exploratory phase of his journey remains crucial to his artistic approach, even 25 years later. After arriving in Calgary in 2004, Catalin worked at Tiffany House, a renowned stained-glass studio and supplier, for a few years. There, he became proficient in the Tiffany method, which he now uses exclusively in his work due to its exceptional flexibility. Later, he pursued an engineering career while continuing to take on stained glass repair and restoration projects in his free time until 2010.
In 2015, Catalin seized the opportunity to indulge his lifelong passion for the arts. With confidence in his technique, he embarked on projects that would challenge his artistic philosophy. Through this process, his works evolved from two-dimensional to sculptural and from decorative to conceptual. Initially, Catalin refined the Tiffany technique, creating two large copper-foiled stained-glass panels with folkloric and rural life themes. Next, he crafted a conceptual piece with a scientific theme. By participating in local events, he gained insight into the public's response to his art. Encouraged by the feedback, Catalin pushed the boundaries of his method again and created a bas-relief, where the volumetric glass elements elevate the play of light to new heights. This time, he explored a subject related to society and emigration. Following other works on social and cultural topics, his focus returned to and remained fixed on quantum mechanics, cosmology, and the philosophy of science. In 2018, Catalin became a juried member of the Alberta Society of Artists. After careful consideration, he relocated to the Greater Montreal Area in 2019, eager to embrace new experiences.
What is your background and how did you start your journey in the art world?
“Growing up near the Danube's confluence with the Siret, I was captivated by the river's majestic flow and the ancient landscapes it touches. In the 1990s, I discovered the art of stained glass, enthralled by the vibrant colors and textures that come alive in sunlight. Self-taught in lead-came technique, I later refined my skills through painting studies at a prestigious art school, which informed my artistic journey. The captivating play of light through colored glass has long inspired me, and I've also developed a strong interest in the creative potential of copper foil technique, popularized by Tiffany. By reexamining established techniques and incorporating reflected light, I've expanded my artistic range and discovered new aspects of glass artistry. With a versatile toolkit - painting, mechanical engineering, and a willingness to defy conventions - I draw inspiration from my understanding of the world’s inner mechanisms.
Reflecting on my journey, I see how the places I've called home have shaped me - from the Danube's shores to the Rocky Mountains' foothills in Calgary, Alberta, and most recently, Montreal, where I established my latest studio in 2019, each location has offered fresh inspiration, challenges, and opportunities for growth, nurturing my artistic voice through the power of exploration and creativity.
The intersection of tradition and science reveals a shared pursuit, which is the understanding of the universe's intrinsic nature. Tradition provides stability, while science offers consistency - two essential building blocks with distinct approaches. Tradition embodies the desire to decipher reality from humanity’s most sophisticated end, whereas science teaches us that the electron and photon operate with unwavering integrity, untainted by vanity or deception. The potential of atoms to form covalent bonds manifests brute honesty, with interactions governed by firm, consistent, and predictable laws (statistically speaking). As complexity increases, concerns, desires, compassion, and dishonesty emerge, though the underlying mechanisms remain unclear. This is why I believe truth should neither succumb to stagnation nor arrogance.
As an integral part of my artistic journey, I question how my own creativity would adapt and evolve if my existence were transported 100 years into the past or 1000 kilometers away. How my art would transform if I possessed a diminished sense of smell, a different skin texture, or longer fingers. Would my works be significantly altered, and if so, in what ways? This thought experiment prompts me to consider the profound impact of my experiences on my artistic identity and the trajectory of my creative pursuits.
Moreover, I reflect on how the presence or absence of human individuals, such as a wise and supportive friend would shape my artistic voice. My art would be distinct, that at least this would be clear, for that by diverse experiences, perspectives, and human connections, the works I’d do would stem from an alternate version of myself. From that understanding arises the question to what extent I am the owner of the choices I make. My instincts suggest that I have a significant degree of autonomy, holding up my hope for pure originality, one day.”
What inspires you?
“My personal artistic explorations revolve around fundamental concepts that underlie the world's intrinsic mechanisms, from which I believe we need to recalibrate our understanding to better comprehend the world. The paradoxes, those great distilleries of ideas, lead me to investigate domains where language reaches its limits and becomes inoperable. In these realms, notions such as distance, proximity, energy, information, periphery, permanence, and others lose their conventional meaning. This is precisely why I turn to geometry, the sole language capable of addressing these complexities and providing a deeper understanding of the world's underlying structures.
Regarding the proposed solutions to these paradoxes, in the absence of a comprehensive knowledge of reality's underlying mechanisms, I have begun to suspect that our understanding has been led astray at various points throughout history.
On the other hand, I ponder how the trajectory of ideas about the world would have unfolded if we had paused to fully resolve Zeno's paradox of the turtle. In such a scenario, the development of crucial concepts like uniform acceleration, entropy, and steam power might have been precluded, and the industrial revolution, the study of spacetime, and the space industry's achievements - including placing telescopes on a Lagrangean orbit around the Sun - may not have occurred. Or, maybe they would have transpired in a distinct manner, given the nonexistence of Euclidean geometry. This possibility raises intriguing questions about the contingent nature of scientific progress.
Now, whether this is a manifestation of an artistic expression or a philosophical inquiry, I can’t tell. The boundaries blur as I delve into the intricacies of existence, seeking answers to the paradoxes that underlie our understanding of the world. I embrace science as the essential method for understanding the world and art as a complementary conduit for creative expression and exploration.”
What themes do you pursue? Is there an underlying message in your work?
“As I'm awed by humanity's greatest questions - such as the passage of time, the question of consciousness, or the question of nothingness - I invite people to observe how, remaining unresolved, they grant us the freedom to interpret the world. Thus, fantasy and myths are born, schools of thought emerge, and the adventure of knowledge begins. As for the arts, they must play a special role in this process. I pay attention to the fundamental principles of physics, which means questioning the very premises on which we build our discourse about the world. I have been questioning quantum mechanics, cosmology, and natural philosophy with the innocent repetition of 'why?' 'Why is the apple red?' 'Why is red red?', 'Why is there something rather than nothing?'
Certain themes in my work draw inspiration from the realm of Planck dimensions, where the boundaries of reality extend far beyond the limits of human perception. In this domain, quantum mechanics' probability and uncertainty challenge our intuitive understanding, revealing a fascinating (rather than intimidating) world that has long eluded our comprehension of the world. Despite millennia of inquiry, its secrets remain waiting to be unraveled, making it all the more captivating. In contrast, cosmology presents a vast array of untested hypotheses on a universal scale, offering a rich terrain for imaginative exploration. These enigmatic subjects warrant artistic investigation, inviting us to probe the unknown and uncover new insights.
The focus of my inquiry lies within the realm of photons, the fundamental particle and common denominator of matter, which we perceive as light. I sought the largest amplifier available. A thought experiment meant to help me observe the finest structure of baryonic matter (ordinary, detectable matter).
Starting from the intuition that infinity exists only in mathematical approximations (Democritus had convinced me), I aimed to find the smallest indivisible fragment of the world. I quickly left the particle accelerators behind due to their physical limitations, and no longer sure what ‘length’ could possibly mean anymore. Pushing even further, beyond the scale of Planck dimensions, to my surprise I found not an indivisible length, as I had been led to believe, but that the physical laws no longer make sense. Beyond that point, on one knows how to formulate questions.
How did we arrive here? Bit by bit, by adding controversial or ambiguous working concepts: superposition (localization), probability waves (existence, discontinuity, uncertainty), quantum tunneling (transfer, conversion, traversing physical barriers), proximity (neighborhood, space, distance, time), virtuality (non-existence, materialization, potential), etc. However unsettling this toolkit may be, these are the best ideas humanity has been able to formulate so far.
“Have we reached a dead end?,” I've asked myself. We can't advance further towards the smallest scale, and we can't make useful approximations on the largest scale anymore. We can't progress with such a vague vocabulary. The language of the subatomic world is different from the one we're accustomed to in the macro world. The electron's superposition, described by a probability wave equation, has no match in a fruit market where the watermelon has never been reported to change shelves by a probabilistic mischief.
Transiting from the quantum world to chemistry is an unresolved linguistic challenge. Instead, we've built a parallel vocabulary to talk about photosynthesis, anesthesia, migratory orientation, or semiconductors. We did well. Had we started with the understanding of the quantum world, we would never have discovered the chemistry of the digestive system or the moral framework of the community.
“This must be an artistic discourse,” I’ve been convincing myself. Artists, in general, propose sets of works adjacent to an intuition they have. These collections are nothing but searches into the heart of the world. Their merit lies in this exploratory pursuit, even if it is often inconclusive. I maintain that my works propose a geometric language solution. I've bravely ventured into the challenging realms of cosmology, quantum mechanics, and philosophy, typically reserved for prestigious research institutions. The greatest challenge, as I've found out, lies not in the abstract thinking required for each of these fields, but in navigating the fine line between theories, conjectures, and the pitfalls of pseudo-science, speculation, and fantasy. All seem equally unfalsifiable at first glance, but learning to discern the gaps in rational thinking and the absence of scientific method has been crucial. In the process, I've come to appreciate the radical nature of scientific papers and the courage required to present them. Scientists often advance radical ideas only later in their careers, when tenure and security allow such rebellious gestures. Given the limited progress in recent decades, I believe scientists need the creative spark of arts to reignite innovation. And while institutions like CERN and the Perimeter Institute collaborate with artists to communicate scientific ideas, my subtle message for scientists is to embrace their own inner artist. I invite them to join me in the studio. Free from criticism, let’s unleash imagination.”
How would you describe your work?
“Because I'm employing materials and techniques from the stained-glass trade, my works are often perceived as stained-glass. However, they differ in several ways. They're not limited to traditional materials, and they don't solely rely on the passage of light; they also utilize reflected light. Additionally, they're not intended for windows but can be used on niches, ceilings, columns, walls, and pedestals. Unlike traditional stained-glass, my works don't typically convey religious themes or feature decorative vegetal patterns; instead, they follow scientific and philosophical narratives. Because I'm drawn to ideas, my works may be perceived as 'conceptual.' However, they differ from conceptual art in that they are more akin to essays rather than singular perspectives. Because I explore purely abstract ideas, such as the Platonic realm, my works may appear abstract. However, they represent coherent models of the world, making them more than just abstract. Because I create visual descriptions of the micro-world, my works may be perceived as figurative. However, they don't depict tangible, recognizable forms, as the inner mechanisms of the subatomic world remain unknown and are yet to be discovered. While my unconventional use of materials and aesthetics may lead some to associate my works with Dadaism, they don't align with its philosophy. Unlike Dada, I have a clear scope, value aesthetics, and employ skills to create my pieces. I'm not deconstructing existing art forms. I don't subscribe to the democratization of art, seeking admiration without critique. My works are not one thing or the other, but rather a combination of all these elements together. That's why I shall call them 'convolutes'.”
Which artists influence you most?
“Answering this question has always been a struggle since I've never been interested in examining my own influences. However, I can say this: I hold the perceptive school of Atomists in high esteem, I admire Raphael's religious and sensual approach, I love Dali's exuberance, and I'm surprised to find myself drawn to Brutalist and Deconstructivist architecture. The music of Jean-Michel Jarre and Vangelis has shaped my worldview, and I appreciate Einstein's inquiring mindset. Brancusi's innovative spirit inspires me, reminding me that art can defy the ordinary and reimagine the natural world in unexpected ways. My works are cross-pollinations of different fields, each shaping a unique facet of my creativity. This fusion of influences has allowed me to forge a distinctive artistic path, with blurry boundaries between science, philosophy, and art.”
What is your creative process like?
“My investigation ventures into the uncharted territories of knowledge, where language reaches its limits. I recognize that an authentic investigation demands a set of assumptions, intuition, evaluation, testing, and conclusions. In the realm of my exploration, the capacity for testing ideas put forward by scientists is beyond current technological boundaries (potentially spanning millennia). Thus, the conclusion may be impossible to articulate. This open playfield is what makes it profoundly captivating! My creative process begins with fundamental ideas about reality, which I develop into primary elements. I combine these building blocks in groups, layers, and connections, crafting developing structures. Then, I refine the details until they achieve a satisfying level of complexity. This process yields a concise, coherent, and comprehensive narrative. As my subjects exist at the forefront of human understanding, the narrative, however, remains incomplete, inviting others to contemplate, debate, and contribute.”
What is an artist’s role in society and how do you see that evolving?
“Beyond its decorative and emotional aspects, in my view, the artist conducts one of the most profound investigations into human nature. Their participation in shaping ideas about the world is a shortcut to knowledge, I like to believe, although art seems to follow scientific teachings (and return them to society) rather than advancing them. While I'm still researching this question, I must note that Vincent van Gogh's pointillism, for example, demonstrated knowledge of the division of white light into color spectra, ideas that were advanced 200 years before his time by Isaac Newton. Similarly, Salvador Dali and Max Ernst's surrealism and Pollock's abstract expressionism had knowledge of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung's psychoanalytic development, enabling them to portray a world beyond physical rigor or embrace pre-conscious, gestural works. Cubism also required knowledge of Wilhelm Röntgen's X-rays and Albert Einstein's relativity principle to simultaneously depict hidden elements of the visual plane or sequential temporal elements. Continuing this observation, Marcel Duchamp's 1912 painting, "Nude Descending a Staircase," incorporates both the idea of temporal succession and superposition, predating both theories in physics. Duchamp didn't elaborate a scientific theory for his work, and we can't attribute scientific merit to him, but this kind of parallel contribution to the evolution of knowledge seems fitting for an artist.”
Have you had any noteworthy exhibitions you'd like to share?
“One of the most satisfying public exhibitions I've been a part of was in the Old Port of Montreal in 2022. It drew many people to my work, including friends and strangers, who were intrigued by the stories my pieces told. The conversations were in-depth, sometimes lasting up to 45 minutes, and people showed a genuine interest in the scientific ideas I was exploring. Some of these ideas, which are over 100 years old, describe a fundamental aspect of reality that differs from our everyday experience, with implications that we're still trying to grasp. However, most of my visitors were unfamiliar with them, which made me realize the significance of my pursuit. Another event I'm delighted to share is a presentation of my science related works, which I delivered via a Zoom conference for the scientific teams at the Dominion Radio Astrophysical Observatory (DRAO) in Penticton, BC, Canada. Presenting my narratives to a professional audience was particularly challenging, as such a specialized audience has the expertise to spot any misunderstanding of physics concept or far-reaching speculation in my talk. Although my presentation was framed as an artistic expression, free from criticism from a creativity standpoint, I still expected to be corrected or instructed on how things "should" be understood. However, the opposite occurred. To my delight, the scientists appreciated my stories and offered comments of praise and comparison with the exploratory works of MC Escher and H Ferguson. What I took away from this experience is that the scientific community welcomes visual representations of their work, which can be considered art. In fact, I'd venture to say that, to some extent, what scientists do at the cutting edge of human knowledge is, in itself, a form of pure art.”
Website: www.catalindomniteanu.com
Instagram: @catalindomniteanuarts
Other links: linkedin.com/in/catalindomniteanuarts
