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István Dukai

István Dukai works with what’s already around—old fabric, faded textures, bits and pieces that might get overlooked. He doesn’t start with a clear plan. Instead, he follows the material, seeing what it can become when it’s cut, stitched, or marked. The process is quiet and slow, more about feeling than ideas. He keeps things simple, but there’s always something thoughtful underneath. A stain, a fold, the way two fabrics meet—all of it matters. He doesn’t rush it. Every piece comes together step by step, shaped by time and small choices. There’s care in how he works, in how he listens to the material and lets it speak in its own way.


Iglic - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2025
Iglic - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2025

Q: You often work with found fabric and natural dyes. What makes a material worth keeping?


A: Good question, and it's hard to answer... Perhaps intuition is the best word I can use here, even I’m not entirely sure. I've been "collecting" for quite some time, and after a while, you develop a feel for it. It’s funny to write or say it like that, but it’s really true. At first glance, a certain level of connection is established with the given material. I’m captivated by its texture, its stains, its distinctive tears, etc. Often, I try to further emphasize and highlight these characteristics in my autonomous artworks so that others can see them too.


Q: Your process skips the brush entirely. What made sewing and staining feel like the right tools?


A: For many years, I painted with a brush, practiced, experimented, then the brush was replaced by spray paint (though it’s not out of the question that one day I’ll return to working with brushes again). 

In my most recent series, even that is often omitted, and only the tanning process adds color.Undoubtedly, the various raw, rough, worn materials themselves compelled me to use the tools most suitable for them.



Ciha - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2025
Ciha - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2025

Q: There’s a push and pull between sharp shapes and soft textures. Where does that balance come from?


A: Balance is an extremely important part of my art — really, of my entire life. I strive to find and apply it in every area.



Entrophy SS - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2025
Entrophy SS - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2025

Q: You mix references freely—folk, modernist, personal. What holds it all together for you?


A: Most likely, it’s myself — my personality. The past and current events in my life. I come from an extremely isolated, small village, and I constantly visit big cities. I work both in the countryside and downtown. This duality is what keeps me in rhythm. Personally, I need the hustle and bustle — I love the urban whirlwind — but at the same time, a peaceful existence is just as important to me, including the occasional complete withdrawal from civilization (I’m thinking of digital detox, spending time in nature, etc.).


Q: Your color palette stays subtle. What makes you hold back?


A: Not long ago, during one of my exhibition tours, I talked about my use of earthy tones, very "natural," plant-based colors, and one of the attendees remarked, “...but there are so many wonderful, vibrant colors in nature, like the flowers in a field...” Hmm, to that I replied that humans lived in caves for thousands of years, so most likely, we are instinctively, even genetically drawn to these earthy shades, and their calming, reassuring effects. Perhaps that’s what I was aiming for — playing it safe with viewers, audiences, and collectors (haha, not really). 

From an art historical perspective, I also pay a bit of homage to Constructivism and its predecessor, Suprematism, where Malevich and others favored black, white, and red. But who knows what the future holds in terms of color? 

We’ll see!



Rur Sus II - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2023
Rur Sus II - Acrylic on hand-woven natural dyed linen, 2023

Q: When you’re building a piece, what usually comes first—the form or the feel?


A: At the moment, I don’t have a well-established method for this. It really depends — sometimes months or even years go by before the right material finds its form, and vice versa. 

But it’s a fact that my current emotional state strongly influences the work process and the final outcome — which is probably true for most artists. What I have noticed, however, is that music often alters, sometimes even overrides my plans. And I’ve also found that it connects the two elements mentioned above extremely well — neither one necessarily has to take priority over the other.

 
 
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