Aidan Dunne | Review of Aspect | Solomon Fine Art | The Irish Times | May 2018

One of the works in Tom Climent’s exhibition Aspect is titled, perfectly, Magic Mountain, evoking Thomas Mann’s classic novel of ideas. The main protagonist’s seven years spent in a sanatorium in the Swiss Alps, high above the “flatlands”, opens up a world of infinite speculation and possibility, before an ominous  return to the conflict below. Mountains are the dominant motif in Climent’s paintings, which are built around the meeting of organic and geometric forms. The latter mostly comprise brightly coloured, geodesic dome-like constructions, angular peaks that seem to grow from or are smoothly incorporated into natural masses.

The idea of construction and bold colours encourage a playful, inventive reading of the imagery, as though we are looking at ideas in the form of building blocks. Climent manages to set up this framework without being too illustrative about it, so that he allows for space for the viewer’s imagination to dream or even soar like Mann’s Hans Cartorp when he arrives in the mountains. It’s Climent’s most successful synthesis of abstract and representational elements to date and is an important show for him.

Carissa Farrell | Introduction to Aspect | A catalogue accompanying the solo exhibition at Solomon Fine Art | 2018

Aspect continues Tom Climent’s exploration of the diminishing boundaries between landscape and abstraction by travelling further into fictional terrains of hybrid mountains, hills, uplands and plateaus. In previous groupings these features of the temperate Irish countryside seemed in harmony with Climent’s colourful and architectural interventions. This selection for the Solomon suggests a moment of separation between these two elements, a kind of fission that triggers the release of energy into the atmosphere. This activated geography is a less hospitable place that radiates arid heat and heightened artificial colour. Paintings that seemed clement before such as Gimle and Andlang appear to have been scorched in the company of newer works such as Follower and New Life.

Climent describes New Life as the centre piece for the show and it could be the culprit underpinning the cause of cataclysmic change in other works. It captures the detonation of an explosive lift off or landing, of one of Climent’s hybrid peak structures. This mountain is wider, more jagged and its somewhat ungainly appearance is emphasised by the dusty matter billowing out from underneath, possibly from the impact. Climent’s facility for painting renders the powerful downdraft sublimely, sending clouds of purple and orange powdery material floating upwards. Set on a fertile hill-top the contrast between the pastoral location and its strange geometric modifications is now stark, signifying rupture or, less brutally, a leave-taking. Either way it has pushed the narrative closer to science fiction and loosens the painting conventions that previously tethered Climent within the limits of landscape painting tradition.

Similar in narrative to New Life, Magic Mountain pulls itself away from its hill-top position more successfully spilling expanses of orange and blue paint that are pulled and scraped down into a dark pool of ultramarine. The depth of field here is deliberately confusing invoking the viewers sense of spatial perception and triggering an unconscious impulse to enter the virtual world of the painting to investigate the nature of its three dimensionality. A conjoined set of mismatched dwelling structures with elevations of pinks, browns and green are set into the mountain at its highest point. Whether by design or because of the mound’s upward thrust they lean perilously forward and echo the awkward posture borne in New Life.
Follower takes an epic view of Climent’s otherworldly landscape and bathes it in a luminous array of hot orange, lilac and pink. A mountain hidden from view casts a long purple shadow in the middle ground suggesting nightfall arriving. Its effect is to deepen the perspective and heightens the drama of the searing heat and golden light. The surface of Follower is rich in textures and layers of painting that remain visible through one another. The result is a shimmering work of unique depth and life.

The abundant poetry in Climent’s painting is partly a result of his use of the traditional and romantic format of landscape painting combined with the sheer visual pleasure in his rich colour palette. Embedded in these conventions are the heretofore mentioned strange and eccentric elements that give away his self-critical processes of checks and balances. What stands out is his carefully mined and wonderful glossary of titles for his works, with gems such as Gimle, Alfeim and Andlang. Giving titles to paintings could be a hard-won phenomenon of concrete poetry. It is no elementary task to take the topographical shape, onomatopoeic sound and etymological origin of a word and somehow match those elements with each other and a tangible work of art. It is an unusual and appreciated delight to enjoy the titles of these works while enjoying the works themselves. This attention to detail testifies to Climent’s commitment and value as an artist, as much as his accomplishment and ability to paint.

Carissa Farrell | Introduction to Aspect | A catalogue accompanying the solo exhibition at Solomon Fine Art | 2018

Aspect continues Tom Climent’s exploration of the diminishing boundaries between landscape and abstraction by travelling further into fictional terrains of hybrid mountains, hills, uplands and plateaus. In previous groupings these features of the temperate Irish countryside seemed in harmony with Climent’s colourful and architectural interventions. This selection for the Solomon suggests a moment of separation between these two elements, a kind of fission that triggers the release of energy into the atmosphere. This activated geography is a less hospitable place that radiates arid heat and heightened artificial colour. Paintings that seemed clement before such as Gimle and Andlang appear to have been scorched in the company of newer works such as Follower and New Life.

Climent describes New Life as the centre piece for the show and it could be the culprit underpinning the cause of cataclysmic change in other works. It captures the detonation of an explosive lift off or landing, of one of Climent’s hybrid peak structures. This mountain is wider, more jagged and its somewhat ungainly appearance is emphasised by the dusty matter billowing out from underneath, possibly from the impact. Climent’s facility for painting renders the powerful downdraft sublimely, sending clouds of purple and orange powdery material floating upwards. Set on a fertile hill-top the contrast between the pastoral location and its strange geometric modifications is now stark, signifying rupture or, less brutally, a leave-taking. Either way it has pushed the narrative closer to science fiction and loosens the painting conventions that previously tethered Climent within the limits of landscape painting tradition.

Similar in narrative to New Life, Magic Mountain pulls itself away from its hill-top position more successfully spilling expanses of orange and blue paint that are pulled and scraped down into a dark pool of ultramarine. The depth of field here is deliberately confusing invoking the viewers sense of spatial perception and triggering an unconscious impulse to enter the virtual world of the painting to investigate the nature of its three dimensionality. A conjoined set of mismatched dwelling structures with elevations of pinks, browns and green are set into the mountain at its highest point. Whether by design or because of the mound’s upward thrust they lean perilously forward and echo the awkward posture borne in New Life.
Follower takes an epic view of Climent’s otherworldly landscape and bathes it in a luminous array of hot orange, lilac and pink. A mountain hidden from view casts a long purple shadow in the middle ground suggesting nightfall arriving. Its effect is to deepen the perspective and heightens the drama of the searing heat and golden light. The surface of Follower is rich in textures and layers of painting that remain visible through one another. The result is a shimmering work of unique depth and life.

The abundant poetry in Climent’s painting is partly a result of his use of the traditional and romantic format of landscape painting combined with the sheer visual pleasure in his rich colour palette. Embedded in these conventions are the heretofore mentioned strange and eccentric elements that give away his self-critical processes of checks and balances. What stands out is his carefully mined and wonderful glossary of titles for his works, with gems such as Gimle, Alfeim and Andlang. Giving titles to paintings could be a hard-won phenomenon of concrete poetry. It is no elementary task to take the topographical shape, onomatopoeic sound and etymological origin of a word and somehow match those elements with each other and a tangible work of art. It is an unusual and appreciated delight to enjoy the titles of these works while enjoying the works themselves. This attention to detail testifies to Climent’s commitment and value as an artist, as much as his accomplishment and ability to paint.

Cristín Leach | Review of Latitudes | Dunamaise Arts Centre | The Sunday Times | February 2018

Cork-Based painter Tom Climent has been honing his approach to abstraction for more than 20 years. This show which features fantastical landscapes in which mountains and rocky outcrops take the form of multifaceted geometric structures. They sit under pink, purple or turquoise skies, jewel-like, in shades of cerise pink, green, orange, blue and golden yellow. Climent is a remarkable colourist. His work is quietly uplifting, even spiritual. It offers a glimpse into another beautiful and majestic dimension. The paintings have one-word titles. Plume features a shape like a cluster of colourful crystals, a rare geode in an alien vista. Butte and Mantle show a pair of rounded boulders. Andlang depicts a more traditional mountain-scape, seen through an entirely pink lens. Climent uses sand and plaster to give texture to the surfaces. There are no intimations of buildings in this show. These rainbow crags seem to have been sprung from the artist’s imagination but feel real, unidentified places that appear ancient and new at once. Strong, inspirational painting from one of Ireland’s best abstractionists.

Dunamaise Arts Centre, Church Road, Portlaoise, Co.Laois, Ireland     www.dunamaise.ie

Niall MacMonagle | What Lies Beneath | Meridian by Tom Climent | The Sunday Independent | 2016

The sun, that 4.6 billion-year-old, far-away ( 149 million kilometres away ) burning star, and now 300 degrees hotter than it was when it was born doesn’t always deliver.

Irish summers are hit-and-miss; ones, when the sun shone all the time, are still remembered. 1976 was good. On 29 June that year Boora, County Offaly, saw 32.5 degrees Celsius, the highest recorded 20th-century temperature on this island.

Tom Climent’s recent work contains sunshine. Born and based in Cork, he says: “My father is from Valencia, Spain and we used to spend a lot of time there as kids. And I’ve lived there.”

Working in a roof-top, open air studio reminded him that Malaga winter skies are always blue and “the bright intense light there and the colours just fed into the work.”

Recent work is “grounded in landscape”, but they are imaginary even idealised places. Valleys, mountains, fields seen from above, are all elements in them. As are structures that you might find on a journey – shelters, sheds, out-houses and “this idea of a journey, of searching for something relates, for me, to the act of paintings itself.”

Climent loved both science and art at school. “One, based on logic, structure and reason, the other embracing chance, spontaneity and accident.” Later he abandoned engineering for art. From large “gestural, figurative, expressionist” paintings he realised, aged 30, that “shape, structure, colour” would be his focus.

“I made a deliberate effort to try and work small and contain the energy I was trying to convey, to structure the work in a much more deliberate and controlled way”, he says.

This image, Meridian, took months.

Structure or colour which came first? ” Structure but only just.” It reminds him of a “three-dimensional sundial, almost, and I wanted to call it something that would reflect both a sense of time and also the sun or passage of the sun across the sky and how this shapes or day.”

No hard-edge here. The canvas is alight and, using liquid gold leaf, “a distillation of the glow of the sun.” Climent’s creation glows with a beautiful and glorious warmth.