When Robert Hromec replaced the traditional canvas with aluminum in 2011, after seeing his first completed pieces, I had the sense that this was more than just a change in material—it signified a transformation in his overall artistic thinking. The presented Inside a Time Capsule collection includes works from 2016–2017, by which time he had uncovered a broader and deeper range of ways to work with this medium, extending his reflections on the flow of time, the search for inner harmony (as well as personal unrest), and the overlap of past and present. Robert Hromec has always been a solitary figure on our art scene, and since 2011, his position as a lone seeker of his own distinct expression has become even more pronounced. Although we find (mostly deliberate) references here to Renaissance painting, Baroque grandeur, American painting of the 1950s, or even the influence of Frank Stella, the end result is a set of highly individual, instantly recognizable, and intriguingly unsettling works that strive to find their place in today’s contradictory world.

In this extensive cycle, Hromec portrays the chaotic world of our time through gestural, restless brushstrokes, contrasting them with the citation of hands—outlined only in line—symbolizing harmony and tranquility, alluding to the ancient and later Renaissance quest to bridge the physical and the spiritual. Even though, as already mentioned, the post‐2011 paintings fundamentally differ from his earlier creations, the motif of hands appears frequently in his previous work, and indeed served as a leitmotif for many of his past paintings. In these pieces, one can also interpret broader themes such as the initial chaos and the creation of the universe, or the origin of humankind. The core framework is formed not only by painterly abstract or geometrically inspired components but also by silver shapes—primarily circles—drilled into the aluminum. These run continuously across the surfaces, symbolizing the flow of life or rotating lines that sweep across much of the composition. Creating them is technically (and physically) extremely demanding, and their meticulous execution on the surface, at varying depths, produces multiple spatial levels and a noticeable relief effect. Interestingly, these details—sometimes almost microscopic textures in the aluminum—seem almost alive: the larger their shapes, the more dynamic the painting becomes. Perhaps that is why his newest, large‐scale works have such a powerful effect. The references to hands, set off from the painting’s surface, are placed closest to the viewer, functioning as the gateway into the painting and symbolizing a faith in humanity—a message for future generations, a reflection of our present time projected into the future. The entire message is symbolically tucked inside small, attached aluminum cubes that serve as solid points in the midst of chaos and instability. It also reminds me of those existing caches of information intended for future generations in case of a worldwide disaster, or data about our civilization wandering through space, waiting to be discovered by another form of life.

In these works, Hromec plays with a far more pronounced color palette than in the past. Gone are the carefully built‐up earthy textures or predominantly brown hues, replaced by color that at times is almost monochromatic yet often overlaid with bright, radiant tones that frequently merge into each other. By layering individual coats, he enhances an optical illusion that changes depending on the intensity of the light.

In the artist’s paintings, we find numerous striking conceptual and artistic oppositions: chaos vs. harmony, beginning vs. end, abstract painting vs. realistic details of the human figure, a precise single‐line circle vs. a gestural, impasto circle built up of multiple layers, restrained clarity of etched aluminum vs. the bold color of expressive brushstrokes, focus on detail vs. large color fields or expanses, and many more. These indicate Hromec’s desire to break free from any rules or restrictions. Although he often depicts circles—which, by definition, are enclosed forms—his rotating lines typically do not have fixed endpoints, seeming as though they extend beyond the edges of the painting and continue on their own path into the unknown.