Figuration as Self-Excavation: A Studio Visit with Rizaldy Celi Jr.
Tucked away in a modest Los Angeles studio, painter Rizaldy Celi Jr. is deep in a moment of transition. Not just artistically—but emotionally, psychologically, spiritually. His paintings hum with the afterglow of romantic confusion, with the mess and miracle of self-discovery. As I sit across from him on a warm July afternoon, he’s already pulling out references—old photographs, flash-lit images of bodies mid-motion. “I used to be so afraid to be an artist,” he tells me. “Now I’m trying not to be afraid of myself.”
This shift is visible in every inch of Rizaldy’s upcoming solo exhibition, LOVE IN REVISION, presented by American Art Gallery and opening August 23rd, 2025, at Exhibit A Gallery (1056 S. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles). The title isn't just a clever phrase—it’s the entire ethos of his current work. Love, here, isn’t a static image or ideal. It’s a process. A palimpsest. Something we return to over and over again, with new eyes and unsteady hands.
Rizaldy began his career painting tight, abstract compositions—full of control, order, and the illusion of safety. But control, he admits now, was a kind of armor. “It was easier to render something perfectly than to feel uncertain. If a painting failed, at least I knew I did a good job technically.”
That changed when life cracked him open.
Through therapy and the unraveling of a romantic relationship, Rizaldy realized that abstraction wasn’t enough to hold the emotional weight he was carrying. “When I switched to figurative painting, it was like a language unlocked itself. Suddenly I could say things about intimacy, loss, shame, and desire in a way I couldn’t before.”
His figurative works, often drawn from 35mm photographs or impromptu camera roll images, have the uncanny softness of memory. Figures slouch, embrace, contort, vanish. He’s not chasing realism; he’s chasing the psychological residue of moments we don’t yet know how to name.
His paintings blur the line between private and performative, creating figures that are both archetypal and painfully specific. “I used to use Pinterest for references, but people started recognizing them,” he laughs. “Now I stick to my own photos. They’re more honest—and more complicated.”
At the core of Rizaldy’s studio practice is a therapeutic investigation into love, especially the kind that leaves bruises you don’t notice until years later. “Every painting is about a relationship,” he says. “Some of them are romantic, some are with myself. All of them are about learning how I’ve hurt people—and how I’ve been hurt.”
In one painting, a couple clings to each other in a tangle of limbs and blindfolds. “She’s blind. But it’s self-inflicted,” he explains. “And the guy? He’s literally a red flag with wings. It’s ridiculous. But that’s how I look back at some of my relationships. How did I not see it?”
Therapy has become both a theme and a tool in his practice. “I used to think people made me feel things. But my therapist was like—no one makes you feel anything. They trigger what’s already inside. That blew my mind. I started asking: what am I really afraid of? And the answer was always the same—being abandoned.”
Painting became a way to confront those fears head-on. “Instead of reenacting my trauma in real life, I do it on canvas. I paint it out of me.”
Rizaldy’s relationship with the art market has also shifted. After a group show at the de Young Museum, he was approached by American Art Gallery. He was skeptical at first—until he met the gallerist’s father, an elderly collector who spoke about painting with the kind of reverence artists rarely receive.
That encounter led to a five-year exclusive representation deal, and, eventually, this upcoming solo exhibition. Still, Rizaldy wrestles with the demands of commodification. “I used to spend six months on one painting, and it would sit unsold. Now I’m learning to let go. I paint more freely. I don’t sketch. I don’t over-plan. And wouldn’t you know it—those are the paintings that sell.”
He’s quick to emphasize, though, that this isn’t about producing for a market. It’s about reclaiming his joy. “I’m finally painting for me. And somehow, that’s what people want most.”
LOVE IN REVISION
Paintings by Rizaldy Celi Jr.
Presented by American Art Gallery
🗓 August 23, 2025
🕕 6:00 PM – 9:00 PM
📍 Exhibit A Gallery
1056 S. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles, CA 90019
In Rizaldy’s world, love is never static. It’s unsteady, unfinished, and full of contradiction—just like a painting still in progress. And maybe that’s what makes his work so moving: the refusal to arrive, the bravery to keep revising.