The work of Kim Simonsson has often been compared to the world of mangas and Japanese comic strips regarding the stylistic analogies. It is true that the artist has, and assumes, a certain attraction and fascination for this ultra-contemporary urban universe of Japanese culture, going as far as to qualify his work as “Finnish quasi-manga.” They do have points in common, but attentive study reveals significant differences, such as the absence in Kim Simonsson’s work of any colour, allusions to sexuality or attitudes of violence. And indeed, that is not the only possible referent.

His work is just as much part of a very Western system which has varied and ancient references. The Florentine artist Luca della Robia (1400–1482) immediately comes to mind, with his statuary and its very similar plastic effects of clay covered with stanniferous enamel, as well as the works of the sculptor Joachim J. Kändler (1706–1775), essentially his monumental pieces (animals made for the Japanese palace of Dresden, and for Frederick Augustus I, Elector of Saxony); and then, as Cynthia Nadelman has quite rightly pointed out, one thinks of the aesthetic world of Franz-Xavier Messerschmidt and, even more so, that of Adriano Cecioni – particularly the sculptures.

Kim Simonsson’s work is different from the other artists’ work in its total absence of naturalism and expressive realism. Kim Simonsson aims more at the formal perfection of his pieces. In fact, he approaches the “oh, so delicate question” of figuration, but in another way. While this formula is to a certain extent restored, it does not involve a return to the classical ideal definitively side-lined by the 20th century. The idea of a split, so dear to modernity, is still current but in a different form – one thinks of mannerism – that accords with our aesthetics and our contemporary culture. The tradition has been assimilated – no return is possible – and what has been acquired by modernity is an integral part of this tradition.

Kim Simonsson’s sculptures of children in varied positions give the impression of extreme sensitivity. They represent pure moments of grace, where poetry is always present. The attitudes and volumes are made up of simple, solid shapes, the surfaces are smooth with no asperity so that the eye slides over them, and all this taken together persuades us this is a very personal and, finally, highly sophisticated form of art. In fact, Kim Simonsson gives us the impression of establishing a new type of art, a type with disturbing sensitivity, elegance and grace, great gentleness and perfect harmony.

And yet, astonishingly, torment attracts him. The plenitude and the ideal of gentleness of the beings portrayed is very apparent and masks an anxious, if not to say anguished and agonising, reality. Quite rapidly certain key elements of their appearance are seen to be intentionally accentuated by Kim Simonsson and are the subject of his particular attention.

The absence of formal tumult is echoed in an absence of social and affective tumult.
Unlike the work of Luca della Robbia – one thinks of the children’s choir, the Cantoria made for the Florence Cathedral between 1431 and 1438 and now kept in the Museo dell’opera del Duomo (Duomo Works Museum) – or the work of Adriano Cecioni – the “incontro per le scale” now in the Galleria d’Arte Moderna in the Palazzo Pitti in Florence which is, from this point of view, particularly eloquent – there is no connection between the beings represented by Kim Simonsson. They are sociologically disconnected. And yet they exist, near us and amongst us.

Nothing captures their attention. Their position is frontal. Their eyes are wide-open and the pupil is always completely absent. They stare fixedly, as though absorbed in thought. We, on the other hand, can not help looking into their eyes. There is a projection of our anxiety, which is accentuated by their ectoplasmic appearance resulting from the coldness and neutrality of the black or white coating used in some of the more recent series. Our eye does not find a place to settle. Now, replacing the eyes and even the face, convex mirrors often reflect and distort our environment.

Yves Peltier