Renata de Iudicibus’s journey reveals a fascinating paradox: for more than three decades, her
professional life was dedicated to the architecture of language — the editorial precision that
builds linear narratives. Yet in her studio, this guardian of structure surrenders to a ritual of
deconstruction. Self-taught, she paints the way one breathes: not through calculation, but
with the intensity of someone who deciphers herself with striking precision. Her method is the
opposite of control; it’s a choreographed surrender to instinct, where the canvas is not a
destination, but a passage — a channel for energy that insists on taking form.
Her compositions are stratigraphies of the intimate, floating between abstraction and
figuration, the organic and the gestural. Renata doesn’t aim to represent — she provokes,
evokes, and invites resonance. Her color palettes are dominated by earthy, coppery tones, as
if each painting were born of soil, amber, and time. Gold appears often, not as ornament, but
as ancestral light. When needed, she dives into quiet blues and grays — chromatic pauses to
breathe. Her art is ever-shifting, but its shifts remain coherent, because they respond to what
matters most: the emotional present.
This same surrender deepens when memory becomes her material. When she paints from
photographs or personal stories, she never strays from her visual identity. On the contrary, she
brings even more truth to the layers of color, transforming someone else’s memory into a
visceral, present-tense event. In these moments, each gesture gains a near-ceremonial
weight — as if every brushstroke were stitching memory into the fabric of now.
The undeniable proof that her work transcends the visual came in New York, when her painting
Magma became the genesis of a concert. The event was a critical epiphany: the music wasn’t
simply “inspired” by the painting — it decoded its frequency. The canvas wasn’t a theme; it
was the score itself, the visual notation of a vibration translated into sound.
Renata de Iudicibus doesn’t pursue decorative beauty. Her commitment is to the authenticity
of feeling. That’s why her work doesn’t just inspire admiration — it invites recognition. The
viewer doesn’t just see a painting; they see themselves in it — or long to. And that is her
greatest strength: the courage to return to the world the essential value of what is intuitive,
subjective, and unapologetically free.