Viktor Rónai’s work reflects his rural upbringing, combining raw materials like steel and clay with digital elements. He explores the contrast between physical and virtual realities, using unconventional methods—such as his “plastic skin” technique—to create a tension between softness and unease. In works like “After Effect” and “Happy End,” Rónai connects personal memories with material experimentation, examining themes of transformation, memory, and time. His work challenges traditional boundaries, offering a new perspective on the shifting relationship between the real and the digital.
Q: Your childhood experiences with raw materials like mud, clay, and steel seem to influence your work. How did these early connections shape your artistic journey?
A: Childhood is full of excitement and experimentation, infused with a fresh perspective or the power of naivety. We relate to things as if we had invented them or were the first to create a particular phenomenon. I have clear memories of mixing ash, mud, and clay to create blends, then shaping them into small well-like constructions. I constantly wanted to create, build, and invent. Sometimes, I wandered through the surrounding forests, building shelters from planks and branches in the dense trees, or I searched for strange objects in rusty metal graveyards. And although I reject the idea of determinism, it is undeniable that past experiences shape present thoughts, attitudes, and personality. In this sense, the works I create now are fusions of past and present events.
Q: After "Effect" draws inspiration from a memory involving your grandfather and a storm. How does this personal experience translate into the visual language of the piece?
A: That's right—when I was creating this painting, I felt like I had to blow up the canvas. I think I succeeded, and in the end, it became one of my personal favorites. At first, I wanted to paint over the attached steel elements, but once I placed them on the surface, I was drawn to their raw energy.
This is also tied to the fact that my grandfather was very close to me, and I often helped him with work in the fields. Because of this, steel and machine oil were a part of my life up until I started university.
Q: "Happy End" marks a shift in your approach with your use of "plastic skin." How did this new technique emerge, and what does it add to the meaning of the piece?
A: Around 2018, during university, I conducted a few experiments with a technique similar to this. Back then, it was still in its early stages—driven by curiosity about how the material behaves and how it changes over the years. I created my first plastic skin piece in 2023 for a group exhibition at Horizont Gallery in Budapest. Since then, I have refined the technique, discovering both its drawbacks and advantages. The name came later when I realized how much it resembled smooth skin while also referencing the "skin" concept used in 3D modeling and video games. The canvases are pre-painted and then stretched over an amorphous frame. In this piece—and in my soft paintings in general—I aim to create tension. That’s why there is foam beneath the canvas, further softening the surface. The canvas itself appears as plastic skin—a layer that conceals what lies beneath. Paradoxically, its purpose is to cover, yet a dark, rough object presses into the center.
Q: Your work often explores the tension between premeditation and randomness. How do these concepts come into play in "Utopia after the End of Utopia"?
A: My 2024 was dominated by oscillation between planned and spontaneous creation. "Utopia" also started as a highly preplanned piece, much like original utopian ideals. Initially, I wanted to insert a reflective, colorful metal plate into its center and create a much more positive artwork. I designed it during the summer, but I was only able to assemble it in late autumn—right in the middle of heating season. At a time when the streets were constantly filled with the smell of burning plastic. The original plan simply didn’t reflect the present reality.
I often feel that a preplanned painting doesn’t allow for creative freedom, and that after the planning phase, the artist is reduced to nothing more than a skilled craftsman executing the idea.
Q: In your practice, you combine the roughness of Art Informel and Arte Povera with digital influences. How do these two worlds collide in your work?
A: Just as the present "self" contains the past "self", these two worlds coexist in my artworks—sometimes separately, sometimes merging into one. Informel and Arte Povera are close to me due to my childhood and my fascination with raw materials. Additionally, alongside my art practice, I work on construction sites, where I constantly encounter intriguing phenomena, materials, surfaces, and the problematics of demolition and building. At the same time, digitality inevitably surrounds my daily life. Virtual realities have taken away years from me, during which I wanted nothing to do with reality.
Q: Your use of unconventional materials is central to your art. How do you choose materials based on personal attachment, and what role do they play in your pieces?
A: I usually work with materials that I have encountered in the past for some reason or that currently surround me. Examples include shredded fabric, mortar, adhesives, wires, and metals. The primary reason for this is my strong desire to place paintings in a spatial context and to create with something different from traditional canvas and oil paint. This approach sets my works apart from the flat surfaces of screens, as a response to the excessive image consumption of our time. These objects demand real space and physical presence. From my perspective, they are more like objects than paintings, although I often refer to them as paintings. In my practice, materials do not always carry symbolic meaning, what’s more, I try to avoid that as much as possible, and choose them primarily for compositional reasons, as a means of self-expression.
Q: You’ve experimented with various mediums and have been part of residencies and exhibitions. How have these experiences influenced your current direction as an artist?
A: Our experiences shape who we are, and though it may sound like a horrible cliché, it’s true. These moments and events influence an artist’s work, whether consciously or subconsciously. If they don’t, then something is wrong.