‘The Window’: Aida Mahmudova @ Gazelli Art House London
Mahmudova’s works operate as portals, not only into her interior world but into a broader dialogue about human fragility and resilience. From her early works exhibited internationally to her more recent explorations at Saatchi Gallery and YARAT Contemporary Art Centre, her practice reflects a consistent interplay between personal and collective memory. ‘The Window’ feels like an evolution of this trajectory—she crafts a language of textures that speak to her sensibilities, where the deeply personal meets the universally relatable themes of longing and introspection.
There is something deeply rewarding about Aida Mahmudova’s ‘The Window’ – not because it insists on being grand or overt, but because it lingers in a space of deceptive simplicity. Inspired by Forugh Farrokhzad’s (1934-1967) yearning poetry, the exhibition at Gazelli Art House draws us into a subtle yet potent exploration of solitude, transformation, and identity. Through layered landscapes, sculptural reliefs, and carefully curated textures, Mahmudova offers a quiet rebellion against confinement, opening portals to inner worlds as vast as they are vulnerable.
The exhibition opens with Untitled, 2024, positioned commandingly at the top of Gazelli House’s (quite lovely) spiral staircase. This is no little landscape: spanning nearly five metres across, the sheer scale of the piece invites the viewer to get close, close, closer to acquaint themselves with the dynamic textures and layers contained within this expansive panorama.
However, no matter how closely we may observe, there is one notable thing missing from not only Untitled, 2024 but from all the pieces in this exhibition. Have you noticed what it is? If you said ‘human beings’ or any like variation, you would be correct. The absence of human figures in Mahmudova’s compositions might seem at odds with their deeply personal undercurrents, but it’s precisely this void that makes them so compelling. In an exhibition where the weight of the absence of people takes centre stage, Mahmudova understands that a window is as much about what it obscures as what it reveals. Her works are invitations rather than dictations—a deft touch that speaks to her confidence as an artist. In her world, solitude isn’t a retreat; it’s a crucible for transformation.
A particularly arresting moment in the collection is the juxtaposition of panoramic landscapes with the more contained sculptural pieces. The former, like Untitled, 2024, stretches out like internalised vistas, their semi-abstraction inviting interpretation while maintaining a sense of melancholic detachment. The latter works, by contrast, feel densely immediate, almost claustrophobic in their detail. This is perhaps best demonstrated in Composition 31 (2022), where the gypsum relief’s unyielding rigidity is transformed into a tactile evocation of untainted vulnerability.
Her meticulous layering process is not merely aesthetic; it’s a practice of unearthing truths about selfhood and memory. Yet, rather than feeling overwrought, these works possess an unpretentious candour that is borne from part excavation, part construction. Together, they create a dynamic tension where each choice feels deliberate, from the coarse tactility of gypsum to the luminous translucence of resin, capturing the interplay of light and shadow, the expansive and the intimate, the present and the absent. Deeply atmospheric, her works don’t preach or prescribe but instead open a space for personal reflection—this is wonderfully demonstrated by her use of domestic motifs and materials, particularly in her Immortality (2022) series, which ground her otherwise abstract explorations in the familiar and reminding the viewer of the profound that often resides in the ordinary.
One cannot discuss Mahmudova’s practice without acknowledging her wider influence. As the founder of YARAT Contemporary Art Centre in Baku, she has championed the next generation of Azerbaijani artists, bridging local narratives with international audiences. Her own journey—from Central Saint Martins to exhibitions spanning London and Tbilisi—imbues her work with a cosmopolitan sensibility that never dilutes its specificity. In ‘The Window’, this synthesis feels particularly potent. The exhibition occupies a liminal space, mirroring the artist’s navigation between personal introspection and cultural commentary. Furthermore, Farrokhzad’s poetry, which inspired the exhibition, speaks of a window that “extends in its depths to the heart of the earth (1974).” Mahmudova takes this sentiment and runs with it, crafting a body of work that feels both grounded and transcendent. She understands that freedom—artistic or otherwise—isn’t about erasing boundaries but reimagining them.
In an art scene often dominated by spectacle, Mahmudova offers something refreshingly rare: the permission to pause. To walk through this exhibition is to be reminded that art does not need to shout to be heard and that there is fantastic power in simply looking—of peering through a window and finding not just another world but yourself reflected back. For anyone willing to engage with ‘The Window’ and all its subtleties, the rewards are manifold.
‘The Window’: Aida Mahumadova concluded on 30th November 2024 but is still viewable as a virtual exhibition on the Gazelli Art House’s website here.
Nicole John
Reviews Co-Editor, MADE IN BED