9 December 2024
« ENCOUNTERS »
Today is one of these dark rainy pre-Christmas mornings
when you just want to light candles all over the place.
Darkness, shadow, silence. The ingredients for art to
reveal light and capture attention.
In the darkness of the earth the mystery of a mushroom’s
life, its mycelium, begins. The whiteness of its fine threads
interweaves into the black crumbs of the substrate.
Slowly, tiny pin-point sized heads emerge from the threads,
gradually pushing their way towards the surface, towards light.
This process takes weeks. As does most growth in nature.
Seed, determination, quiet, darkness, environment.
In my previous blog I announced that the Uneins group members
would meet for a working week in Kloster Steinfeld (Eifel) in
October.
Now, if you came to visit us in the atelier early
in the morning, you would find some busy early-birds working
quietly there. The call to create, curiosity, space, material and
working in the company of each other brings us here once a year.
A scent of candlelight and coffee warms the room. Mushrooms,
gathered from the surrounding forest, laid out on a table.
All eight of us committed to explore during this week’s stay
the range of creative possibilities that ‘mushrooms’ had to offer.
Discoveries shared, questioned, developed as well in
botanical knowledge as in technics of painting, folding,
photographing, installing, printing, drawing and writing, filled
our days.
Surprisingly for all of us, mushrooms wouldn’t let us go
after that week’s time. They seemed to appear constantly
in our lives at home, manifold in forms and occasions. Their
omnipresence and unexpected encounters was and is striking.
For my part, I am impressed to learn that the US composer
John Cage not only translated his passion about mushrooms in
music (Silence 4’33) but also in drawings (Wild Edible Drawings).
In her book ‘Mushrooms at the end of the world’ Anna Lowenhaupt-Tsing
adds some interesting aspects on our human relationship with
mushrooms and the world.
I’d like to quote this passage from her book:
« John Cage wrote a set of short performance pieces called ‘Indeterminacy’,
many of which celebrate encounters with mushrooms. Hunting wild
mushrooms, for Cage, required a particular kind of attention: attention
to the here and how of encounter, in all its contingencies and surprises. »
« What leaf? What mushroom? »
(John Cage’s translation of a classic poem by Basho).
During the monastic week I worked on seven cardboard
prints/paintings (60x80cm) of mushrooms. Autumn seems to
inspire me to use color. Unlike my otherwise discrete use choice
of colors.
But when looking back to that stay, I can feel the joyful
cold October sunshine break through the grey of the window
above my screen while I write this blog.
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Wishing you happy encounters during a peaceful end of year period,
und ‘ein gesegnetes Weihnachtfest’
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NB: Exhibition in Musée Henner, Paris, ‘Elles. Les Elèves de
Jean-Jacques Henner.’ Until 28 April 2025. Much recommended.
https://musee-henner.fr/agenda/evenement/elles-les-eleves-de-jean-jacques-henner
15 October 2024
« BEYOND THE LINES »
I could also say ‘beyond time’ for this one, if I
would want to follow a certain rhythm or stick
to the initial idea of writing my blog ‘once a month’.
Rhythm is actually a good start for this blog.
You can breath, dance, write, sing, speak and live your
days and weeks in a specific rhythm.
My September week on the North-Sea island
was determined by the rhythm of the tides.
The timing of the ferry, the walks alongside the beach
(watching out for the incoming tide) and the 2 hours of
admitted bathing in the rough salty waves.
Rhythmic sanding on the chunk of cherry wood
for hours while taking away millimeters of material.
A slow process, but still faster as the years it takes growing.
I often wondered if the tree would have approved his new
outfit.
« Aim for the chopping block. If you aim for
the wood you will have nothing. Aim past the wood,
aim through the wood. Aim for the chopping block. »
This kept me going. And the question which I came
across from the same source, namely Anne Dillard:
What happens in the small room between the
sculptor and the work itself?
I can confirm that it is a pretty intimate room
between the two, struggle guaranteed.
Rhythm is also evident in the monumental drawings
by Ulla Hase shown at the Villa Empain at this moment.
She must have been walking the line to and fro with her
ballpoint-pen in hand along-side the huge paper for
‘Beyond the lines’. I well remember this wonderful feeling of
space, movement and rhythm to paint or draw on a large canvas
or paper of a size that wouldn’t fit on an easel.
With my Uneins friends, we meet on a yearly rhythm for
a working week in an old monastery where we find a
big workroom for the 12 of us. This year, in a week’s time,
work will focus on ‘mushrooms’ and this fits well
into the season, actually my favorite one.
I like to think of it as a celebration of autumn.
And I’d like to take the advice of Jasper Johns with me:
“Take an object. Do something to it. Do something else to it.”
27.08.2024
SOMETHING FROM THE SEA AND THE MOUNTAINS
What comes after the summer? “Dieser Sommer war sehr gross!”
Filled with a million of eye snapshots … and some digital
shots, too.
What remains and what deserves pursuing in the after summer
ordinary life?
Inspirations in terms of material came from Ann Goddard,Australia:
bark cloth (fibres inside the bark of trees), burnt wood, felted silk
and felted paper. Drawings by Banksy in Cracow. Wood work and
high reliefs in stone in Switzerland. Anselm Kiefer’s sunflowers and
pentagon drawings.
But in the end it all comes true in the thought of Paul Klee:
‘Take a line for a walk’
… (or a swim) and this is
what I have found on my summer walks:
Triangles in the mountains and in the water’s waves.
So, don’t be surprised if triangles appear here and there.
My collection of ‘a word a day’ continues in a different way
linked to the season, i.e. in July 31 words combined with ‘tree’
and in August 31 words with ‘sea’ (getting harder towards the end
of the month, sic).
However, there is a last important red line to keep in mind:
‘Das wirklich Künstlerische schaut nicht einem anderen ähnlich,
sondern ist für sich selber etwas.’
or ‘In the not knowing, somehow the knowing will find a way to make itself known’
This is the lesson/experience in the creative work: how something
comes from nothing. The whiteness of the paper or canvas in front,
the needle, thread and material in hand or when I empty my pockets
of the treasures I collected on my walks. Which form to give, which
impulse to follow, which line is ‘mine’?
Identify the things that speak to me. Like the structure of tree barks
(I like to call them their ‘wrinkles’) that
I love to touch and that one day I’d like to paint on a huge scale.
Geometrical forms speak to me, too. The exploration of possible variations
with different materials. Structural constellations.
As well as the architecture of plants’ stems and leaves. The magnificent
photographic work of Karl Blossfeldt (Konstruktionen von Natur) I go back
to ever so often.
An octagonal faceted basalt stone, which I’d been given years ago by a gardener
friend, is still waiting for me to be carved (hard work, harder than granite!).
(But now that I have seen and read about this phenomenal geological origin in
Elbsandgebirge near Dresden/Germany it should give me a go.)
‘Keep meeting with your drawing or writing buddies.’ Says Sarah Leavitt.
A precious advise. And yes, we met with the ‘Under the
roof’ buddies just recently again to draw, paint and print
around the subjects of ‘tent’ and ‘flower’. My drawing buddies are also my
one of my writing buddies. As we start the sessions with writing. No subject.
Again ‘Something always comes from nothing’, is an amazing truth.
Or ‘moments of being’, as Virginia Woolf calls it.
Some big letters on the front building of Brussels opera house
caught my attention: Dare to love, Dare to act, Dare to dream,
Dare to change, Dare to lead, Dare to desire, Dare to resist.
NB: My Virginia Woolf will be on show, amongst other ‘stories’ on
next Saturday 29 June, from 12 to 6 p.m.,
in Brussels-Molenbeek, Vaartkapoen.
Just about to make it (the blog) for this month …
It has been a month of music (Reine Elisabeth), singing
(Rachmaninov), concerts, lots of rainy days with some sunshine,
discovering unusual plants and trees in
the Abbey de la Cambre parc, roses’ and peonies’ perfume,
writings and readings.
The pleasure of spontaneous sketches in situ to capture form and
color of tiny fruits growing out of nothing more than a thickening
flower stem, also those lambs keeping the grass low in Tournay Solvay parc with
the peaceful sound of chewing, too hungry, to give attention to the visitor.
My artistic challenge of this month: To tell a story and to imagine
how to compose the different chapters
on a piece of cloth, to choose color, main ingredients
and pictures, background, material, items to set the scene
in a comprehensive and aesthetic ‘whole’.
It’ll be on show at the end of June.
And I am curious to see it sitting in between about 40 other
stories.
The ‘Under the Roof’ group had an intensive out-door drawing session:
listen and draw sounds (birds, cars, plane, voices, etc.),
and with only 3 colors identify light and shadow of a chosen form.
A very happy start for the summer.
The sky, today, looks like a painting of Magritte. Grey and white clouds on
a patch of blue, as if cut by scissors into the
clouds. Not a stiff man with a stiff hat, but quickly moving black
crows make this composition.
I do like my urban surroundings knowing that I can at any chosen
moment sit in the quiet secluded garden and enjoy the green company
of modest, uncomplicated plants.
The pleasure of almost daily walks down to the lakes and around the abbey nearby,
never tires me. Jumping up the stairs to the habitual morning
keep-fit place, in glorious morning sunshine, followed by a
delicious cappuccino à la place with newspaper and note book
for drawings of whatever comes its way, make my day.
To this image, I add my recent artists’ discoveries:
Exhibition of Anni and Josef Albers, Fondation Empain, Brussels, where
I was particularly amazed by the use of unusual material, like cellophane
and metallic thread by Anni. Josef and his teachings in Bauhaus and later
in Blackmountain College (North Carolina).
« Art gives courage » in Anni’s words or
with the words of contemporary ceramic artist, Magdalene Odundo
« We haven’t actually learnt anything from history. We haven’t really
resolved any humanity, and all we do is fight. »
Also note this address for Andy Goldsworthy’s latest project
in Northern Yorkshire: hangingstones.org
I had given myself half an hour to sit in the sun and read. Hardly had I started that I discovered an empty snail shell next to my foot on the grass. While bending down to get the shell, I saw the flickering colors of a shiny line across the green grass and leaves. It led to a minuscule reproduction of another snail’s house. As my eyes learnt to differentiate the forms of grass, leaves, buttons and flowers, I noticed that this spot of approx. 20x20 cm was full of life. Ants running without particular trail, black beetles crossing their ways, and the emerald-coloured carapace of another beetle shining proudly in the sun. I couldn’t resist, but to take the baby’s snail house with very cautious fingers… but regretted instantly. This house was as soft as a baby’s nail. I felt the cracks I was causing to its perfect shape. But too late. I put the baby snail next to me on that naked stone wall and offered a leaf to apologize.
Two seconds later, and a tiny head emerged from the house with 4 tentacles examining the green stuff. Accepted. Crawled across the leave to ... somewhere. I continued to watch and decided to remind myself of this moment, when things were getting stressful next.
There is a famous painting by Albrecht Dürer of a spot of grass, very similar to the one which had just given me that instant of peaceful nature reading.
Easter eggs and bunnies of all shapes and funny
settings popped up on the screen.
Moss gathering, eggs boiling and coloring.
Two Easter fires for the enlightening to come,
and to help us find the hidden treasures in
the garden.
As every year I cannot withstand to collect
branches of not yet, almost or entirely opened
buttons. Take them home carefully and start
drawing them. Admire the mystery of the growing
process.
In my favorite bookshop at CIVA, I found just the
right inspiration ‘chromatic herbarium’ with illustrations
of the different growth stages and its exact color samples.
We are never tired so long as we can see far enough » (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Revelation could be the word of that past week.
After a long wet day with only a dark veil of clouds
in front of our eyes, the sun revealed the beauty of
horizon with (partly still) snow covered mountain tops.
La rosée du jour! What a moment! Finally! This was what I came
for to see.
The other kind of revelation: meaning of figures three and four.
There were triangles all around: mountains, steep ones,
and the softer rounded, tiny sharp ones, groups of three
or four. Lots of ‘horns’ or ‘kopf’. Will I still remember their
names next time? And what about seeing them from another
perspective? Yes, Mr Emerson!
Four: fundaments of houses, square,
rectangular, wooden walls planted into that velvet green
landscape, sheds, weathered by wind and snow. The touch,
dry, rough, old.
“On trail” (by Robert Moor), along trotten wet paths across fields,
shutters to open and close, wild crocusses, primroses,
cowslips, dandelion leaves, this is the moment to
make the first wild herbs’ salad or soup. We preferred to
buy sausage and cheese, though, offered in little huts on trail.
Take the taste of this week back home.
Basle, skyscrapers glittering in the sun, Vater Rhein, hotel Volkshaus (architecture meets art by Meuron&Herzog), ferry over the river to the Muenster, a famously sculpture-loaded red building, the house of the ‘Lesegesellschaft’ (sounds nice) next to it, musicians have just finished their Saturday evening open-air concert. Anyway, it seems to me that the many town bells sound from evening to the next morning. Fast, high, melodious, one after the other or sometimes even at the same time. Volkshaus’ best: Coffee/tea station with apples and cristal glasses. I buy the swimming-bag, in red. For the waters of the Aare, soon.
VITRA in Weil am Rhein, a great mix of design/art/colours/forms. And to mention: not just Küchenstühle, but all kind of chairs.
Vast library. Here they are, all those well-known names of the 20th century and their path-breaking ideas on forms in- and outside. Garden by Piet Oudolf, with just a shy show of particularly beautiful tulips.
Nobody else will write this blog, so I finally need to sit down
and start: Coffee, sunshine, feeling good after Ashtanga
practice and the reward of discipline after the exhibition
week in Bensberg (see ‘See’).
Again I find that sentence of old King Tching-Thang
so true: Renew thyself completely each day, do it again and
again and forever again.
There was an amazing synergy during that exhibition in Bensberg.
Each day different from the other. Opening times, presence of
the other participating artists and visitors. Most rewarding to see
how intense most of the visitors looked at the works on show.
Below the photo of my favorite work at the exhibition in Bensberg.
« Vielleicht »
and the poem that goes with it,
by Mary Oliver:
The World I Live In
I have refused to live
locked in the orderly house of
reasons and proofs.
The world I live in and believe in
is wider than that. And anyway,
what’s wrong with Maybe?
You wouldn’t believe what once or
twice I have seen. I’ll just
tell you this:
only if there are angels in your head will you,
ever, possibly, see one.
More photos of the exhibition will follow. Watch the space ‘See’.