Silvia Rubinson

Eduardo Stupía (2018)

Each instance or season of these nocturns, a fruitful and blossoming garden that Silvia Rubinson creates with true morphological passion and perfect balance between expression and restraint, shows a remarkable degree of familiarity with each other, but at the same time it presents features that make it noticeably different. (...)

Luis Felipe Noé (2013)

“Shadow theater” is the name Silvia Rubinson chose for this exhibit: in it, like in that dramatic genre, shadows are vertical, instead of horizontal or oblique. But, in this case, many of the “shadows” are actually inverted, white over black, like negatives. In the “organisms” she presents, nothing draws more attention than their vitality. (...)

Luis Felipe Noé (2011)

It is the third time that, always through a different perspective, sisters Rut and Silvia Rubinson approach the topic of immigration. On this occasion, though, the proposal is visually symphonic. As our country reached the 200th anniversary of its independence, this exhibition is a great homage to those who, as the Rubinsons put it, “reinvented their roots in a new language, with creative tenacity, risking everything for their ideals.” (...)

Luis Felipe Noé (2007)

A year and a half ago, in a prologue to another exhibit by Silvia Rubinson, I highlighted the fact that, as a psychoanalist, she was used to words, and yet she also knew their limits. Since to represent means to name, she avoided any kind of representation. I said back then: “The only image she presents—like someone naming something—is her own work.” (...)

Luis Felipe Noé (2005)

As a psychoanalyst, Silvia Rubinson is used to words. But she appeals to another language, painting, to bring her other Silvia Rubinson to consciousness. She doesn’t haste the image—it emerges slowly, the same way the unconscious is formulated. And she knows about this. (...)

Verónica Gomez (2020)

Ser anfitriona en un recinto que guarda mucha luz y mucha sombra, que es amable con las inestabilidades más porosas, más inciertas. Aquellas que reclaman atención, guía y cautela, pero también abstención, dejar correr, no encauzar sino observar y acompañar. Las formas, de qué están hechas? La fugacidad las empuja a mostrar la intimidad del accidente. Grietas, orillas, sedimentos. Los hallazgos se suceden como los días de una vida. El revés del cielo es una fiesta de luciérnagas.