“It’s more like I’m having an experience than making a picture“
It is not without obligation but if I start something I do not know to where it will lead me. It may be a drawing, but it can also become something else, such as a dried tangerine for example.
These works are remnants of reminiscences, feelings, spontaneous hunches. Associations.
It’s nature.
The challenge for me as an artist is to maintain the tacit meaning of a painting. How to go beyond the visual presence. Let it arise without disturbing or disrupting it.
I’m focused on the use of color, handwriting, coincidence, and the artefact of painting. I have always regarded my paintings as objects. Archetypes of paintings. They don’t tell a story, they are the story. Waiting for what we call ‘inspiration’ can take hours, months, or (in my case) years. To me, the act of painting is a performance, and the painting, whatever that is, is the final report.
Not the goal but That What Remains.
1992 1993 1994 – 2018 2020 2021
1992
In 1992 I made a series of works with the theme ‘hey look, a real painting! Where? There!’ (Or ça, un objet d’art d’or. Où? Là!) This resulted in an exhibition at Gallery l’artothèque in Nîmes (FR): La Collection. 52 Frames with a postcard print in each frame describing an aspect of a painting. These prints in suitcase were also on display at Gallery Storm, later ‘The Drawing Room’ in Amsterdam and are now privately owned (I don’t know where).
1993
Back in 1993 I made a work named ‘traveling paintings’. A series of paintings, different in size and in ever-changing composition, combined with various still life objects. Amongst those objects were a drum, a set of tangerines, a blue teapot, a trumpet and a dried grapefruit. The paintings don’t exist anymore. The still life objects do. They survived the years, hiding in the attic and subsequent years more objects were added.
I also participated in group shows of gallery Storm, later transformed into gallery The Drawing Room (Peter Bouhoff), who took my work on consignment, but unfortunately the gallery disappeared, and my works did also.
Is a tangerine a work of art?
No.
Is a tangerine presented as art
a work of art?Yes.
1994
In 1994 I became overwrought and lost, and started doing other things. It wasn’t until 2018 that I was able to pick up the thread again.
2018
In 2018, after two decades of artistic hibernation, I wanted to pickup painting again. At first I didn’t know where to start, what to paint. I had to reinvent myself after all these years of inactivity. So I decided to just go and start with an empty piece of paper, throw some ink on it and see where it would lead me. Let the colours do the work. Let the ink flow. This resulted in making idle, meaningless and disengaged drawings.
While working, all kinds of themes that I used to incorporate in my paintings back till 1994 returned to my memory and found their place. And I came closer to what Twombly described about the sensation of painting. Each line he made, he said, was “the actual experience” of making the line, adding: “It does not illustrate. It is the sensation of its own realisation.” Years later, he described this more plainly:“It’s more like I’m having an experience than making a picture” (my favourite citation).
2020
In 2020 I started with the signatures. These are literally handprints, or tags (graffiti). Individual works on paper. Each work numbered.
I hope one day to arrive at a new archetype. Painting does not necessarily have to be done with paint. Or on canvas. Drying a mandarin is also painting. Doing is important. The result is just a report.
2021
Later in 2021 I started with the paintings. Logical continuation of the signatures. Instead of one signature, it became a layered work with several remains, where I break free from the idea of making a real painting. Painting is a performance (in private, admittedly), a train of thought and the painting, whatever that is, is the final report. Not the goal but That What Remains.
Painting is actually thinking out loud. It’s all or nothing. I often try to go back to before a painting begins. A work must also be a surprise to me.
Painting is actually thinking out loud. It’s all or nothing. I often try to go back to before a painting begins. A work must also be a surprise to me.
All of this has led to where I am today. Some of the paintings I made, still small, are quite ready and therefore I started to give them away. To friends, family. It’s not about good looking art pieces. It’s when I am able to work on a painting with focus and energy, the picture may be successful. It looks good by it self. It surprises me. It talks to the beholder. It does not illustrate. It is the sensation of its own realisation.
What I show on this site are the results of this ‘search for the unexpected’. A continuous work in progress.
My favourite citation:
In the only written statement Mr. Twombly ever made about his work, a short essay in an Italian art journal in 1957, he tried to make clear that his intentions were not subversive but elementally human. Each line he made, he said, was “the actual experience” of making the line, adding: “It does not illustrate. It is the sensation of its own realization.” Years later, he described this more plainly. “It’s more like I’m having an experience than making a picture,” he said.
NYT 2011