Avik Kumar
Maitra (1978)
www.avix.deviantart.com
avix.007@gmail.com
Maitra (1978)
www.avix.deviantart.com
avix.007@gmail.com
My work
Faces. Identities. Role-playing. From my earliest artistic attempts, I have been motivated by these three motifs. Super-heroes and sports people were my role models in childhood, and I tried to emulate them vicariously through my art. In the last few years, when I started pursuing art seriously, these themes crystallized more rapidly, and I recognized them as a conscious undercurrent permeating my work. I have been exploring these subjects considerably in my recent work by means of different media, such as graphic design, short film, poetry, sequential art, and digital interfaces. This search for ‘identity’ in a person’s conscious/subconscious existence is my inspiration, and the theme I intend to explore further in my future work. When I speak of ‘identity’, I mean the following:
1) The character played by an actor that becomes more real than fictional, and finally blurs the line between the two to such an extent that they become mutually inseparable.
2) The ‘reluctant monster’ archetype that uses pathos as a driving force in classic literature and cinema, like the vampire and the werewolf (especially the latter), who have no control over their destiny.
3) The doppelganger or the supernatural
‘evil twin’ archetype, which is one of the most disturbing nightmares one can have.
These subjects are just as important in my life as they are in my art. Art is all about exploring one’s subconscious, and exorcising one’s inner demons. And personally, I think I am obsessed with this idea of ‘identity’. In most of my work in the last two years, I have explored various genres and types of collective thought and cultures, including societal norms, play-acting (both on and off-screen), monsters, super-heroes, and identity crises. The psycho-terrain of the human mind is the territory I most like to explore, and I intend to use it as the basis of my art in various forms. I also feel that my art is personal and universal at the same time: personal because it springs from my own life, experiences, and emotional anxiety, and universal because it resonates somewhere in the mind of the viewer. And this is the only success I expect (and strive to achieve) from my art.
The studio
I am an artist, so I have a studio. Or am I an artist because I have a studio? Such philosophical nitty-gritties aside, my studio is quite important to me. I share it with my computers, my posters, my action figures, my digital accessories, my table full of junk food – and with Klaus, a mad German actor who flits in and out of the place as per his whim.
My studio is not merely a workplace for me. It is a place where I work, eat, sleep, think, dream, watch, listen and have occasional nervous breakdowns. It’s got a lot of glass (still intact) and that lets a lot of sunlight in. I usually like that, but there are times when I draw the blinds down and brood in the gloom like a lonely vampire. Only I am not lonely; I have Klaus for company. He tells me stories about his life, his work, his passions and interests, his achievements and losses – and I try to convey them in my art. Some days, when I’m late in coming to the studio, he abuses me for being lazy. Sometimes when I work here till the small hours of the morning, he gets concerned about my health like a parent. He IS my studio.
You can come here and meet him if you want; the studio number is B-1.
But come with respect and awe, otherwise he might get cross.
And a final word of advice to the person who will inherit this studio after me:
if you see a wild-eyed man walking around in the dead of the night, do not be afraid. It’s just Klaus, looking for me.
Eleanor Kathleen
Grootoonk (1983)
www.eleanorsdistillery.com
info@eleanorsdistillery.com
Grootoonk (1983)
www.eleanorsdistillery.com
info@eleanorsdistillery.com
My work
Where is my studio?
Fragments of images and words often float through my head looking for a foothold on reality. I gather them. In this collecting, I find things and places from which I distil a lucid concept. For this reason, I often work on location. A place has a particular ambience, spatiality, light or feeling that
I need to build a good moving image.
My studio may be anywhere, as long as I have a laptop, tripod and camera in my backpack.
I want to make beautiful things. In a never-ending quest, while it is not always clear what I am seeking, I usually find places, locations or objects that inspire me to use them in my work.
Like an alchemist searching for eternal life, I am looking for images that are powerful enough to survive in your thoughts. To realize this, I make use of a visual language that is derived from our art history, the world around us and the media. Symbols, rituals, aesthetics and universal beauty play an important role.
With these elements I create moving pictures or a moment frozen in space and time. In doing so, I make use of everything that exists between photography and video (such as stop-motion, pixilation and time-lapse techniques). I create a framework by exerting influence on the setting, the course of time and the light. Within that framework, I play with parallels between the surface of reality and our inner essence.
Frequently recurring picture elements in my photos, videos and installations include transience, reconciliation, circle shapes and light. In addition, sound is an essential component in the experience of my work.
Enoch
Cheung Hong Sang (1970)
www.enocheung.net
enocheung@gmail.com
Cheung Hong Sang (1970)
www.enocheung.net
enocheung@gmail.com
My work
Like a shadow cast by sunlight, I don’t seem to really belong in a foreign country. My recent work reflects my thoughts as a foreigner, relocated or dislocated to various foreign places over the past few years.
From one of the most finance-oriented Asian cities – Hong Kong – I moved to a student city in the very north of the Netherlands, Groningen. I realized that this small European city was the starting point of my journey of dislocation. Since then I use the term ‘on moving’ for my process. I have simply learnt how to ask questions, to observe the different world, then to delve into my soul via my art.
As you may expect, I have had to cope with various issues: cultural shock, exoticism, identification, etc. I would like to share my thoughts with tens of thousands of people who are experiencing a similar situation. I explored my character via several basic personal questions, which may influence my near future: what did I learn from the journey of relocation, from being on the move? How do I define myself as an artist? What should I do to define myself for myself? How should I inspire people to define themselves for themselves?
Those questions come from the outer world and penetrate inward. At the same time, they are passed on through my art to spectators. That is the most basic interaction that triggers ‘movement’. In this I was inspired by a famous Buddhist story:
One day, two monks were arguing vehemently over whether ‘the wind is moving the flag’, or ‘the flag is moving’. Huineng said: ‘Neither the wind nor the flag, but your mind.’
My panoramic video installation is about ‘on moving’, about different environments in different European cities. It is not only about investigating everyday living behaviour in a city, but also about the human versus the natural environment. About attempts to seek an external ‘trigger’, which helps bring about instant enlightenment. This means that something happens unexpectedly, causing spontaneous personal inspiration. On the other hand, enlightenment could also be broken down into different levels according to personal perception. In short, it is a concept to transform outward observation into an inward ‘Aha’.
The studio
The studio means nothing to me.
The studio means everything to me.
The role of the studio varies from time to time. Is it a space or a place? Does any interaction occur between the artist and the space? Or is it merely a simple project space for realizing a project or prototype?
I have tried several possibilities, and I have an extendable one from now on.
I once had my own studio in an artists’ studio complex. I also had the experience of using an empty studio, which was supposed to be a shared atelier with others.
I booked a space to stay on my own for an experimental project about improvising with surrounding sounds and spy awareness. I also had a period of time to blur the difference between studio space and exhibition venue. I blacked the white space out, for an interactive project. I cleaned the messy studio to a white cube.
Those experiences may not be unique for artists. Those experiences may still be unique for artists.
Most recently, for my recent research, I expanded my studio to include nature;
on the other hand, I compressed it to the keyboard and LCD and carry it with me.
Temporality and mobility are two features I am considering in relation to the studio. As an artist who intends to reach a vision from a global aspect,
as well as to consolidate the process of self-understanding, the studio is not only a physical space for functionality to me, but also a mental space for spirituality.
Hideki
Kanno (1974)
www.hidekikanno.com
kannohideki@gmail.com
Kanno (1974)
www.hidekikanno.com
kannohideki@gmail.com
My work
In my previous artworks, I focused mainly on one specific subject, a phenomenon called ‘coexistence’. This was the first subject in which I connected my artwork with thoughts of everyday life. I explored this theme and was especially interested in problems concerning sharing limited space or resources in a peaceful way with others who have a different way of thinking. I thought of it as an important theme because it relates to various fundamental global problems in present-day life.
During my study at the Frank Mohr Institute, my interest shifted to the permanent state of coexistence, not the temporary one. I also discovered the difficulty of this, because it goes against a providence called Mother Nature: life forms have to compete with each other for survival, to maintain the body by obtaining nourishment from the outside. This question turned my attention to the field of biology.
In a project called Lucky Mold I created my first work in which I collaborated with living things. The Theory of Evolution is a strong tool in the observation of my artistic concept. It means that life has the capacity to change even its basic concept, which is its self-centeredness,
in order to preserve itself and its offspring.
I am exploring phenomena that counteract the rules of Mother Nature.
Scientific procedures like investigation and observation provide a firm foundation for my artistic concepts, shifting from an imaginary to a real state. I attempt to show several unique situations in which resistance to Providence occurs, or possibly happens. These small environments have been built in my artwork by using electronics, engineering and computer programming techniques.
Lucky Mold is an experimental art
project to create a special mold,
which has the "gene of good
fortune". If we see ‘Luck’ as
one of the abilities of living
things to survive, this ability
could inherit to their offspring.
This experiment is carried out in
form of a mold-feeding machine to
explore the aforementioned theory.
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Overview
I built my hypothesis about the ethics of life on research. The hypothesis is ‘Evolutionmaycreateapossibilityth atchangesa propertyoflife,self-centredness/ego -centricity.’ Later, I would be interested in formulating this hypothesis the other way around. If a life act does not display self-centred behaviour, then this altruistic act will lead to some kind of evolution, or perhaps not. This artwork is a model to investigate this hypothesis by working with chimpanzees.
Kasper
van Hoek (1982)
www.kaspervanhoek.net
mail-at-kaspervanhoek-dot-net
van Hoek (1982)
www.kaspervanhoek.net
mail-at-kaspervanhoek-dot-net
My work
All work is made from a certain point of view, a paramount way of thinking, a belief, or, within the limitations of this book, probably the persuasion of art or science. And as I am no different from my fellow students, I must admit the existence of a certain factor responsible for at least a fraction of my final work. And as I’m fully aware of the fact that things, generally speaking, don’t come into existence just like that, and believing this is no different with an artist about to create, I dare to say the active fraction of the factor mentioned earlier is quite large or strongly concentrated.
My different activities as an instrument builder, musician, label owner, designer and creator of almost – but eventually not – collapsing constructions will be analyzed from a ‘pataphysical point of view in my thesis, as there is no room for that on these here pages. Fortunately, this won’t affect my work because it can exist without being analyzed, or even while being analyzed in an unintended way. The way 20th-century art is experienced is ‘pataphysical in itself. The thing the artwork resembles is a reflection in a metaphysical way. Analyzing this already-translated pseudo-truth and assigning meaning or functionality to it is an act of a ‘pataphysical thinking, so … no need to worry, I’d say.
I’m not trying to make a statement in my work. Making statements in art should only be done if the statement itself is the artwork. But even then it will be a statement first and an artwork second, like a painting is above all something with paint attached to it; whether or not it might also be considered an artwork remains a question until the arrival of an acceptable answer. The added, artificial meaning will only be a diversion of the work itself, depriving it of its purity. Nevertheless, one is occasionally forced to consider his or her position in a more objective or external matter, like when writing this contribution or my thesis.
The present tendency toward extrovert individualism is gradually evolving into its opposite. No one is trying to liberate himself, to stand out. His/her striving is fictitious and, even worse, an act of collectivism. This can be seen in fields like politics, music and the spiritual (as it consists of non-matter), internet.
The social networks on internet, for instance, place everyone within one large group that seems to develop an identity of its own. The enormous amount of personal fragments can no longer represent themselves and they’re being merged into something that has more statistical value than personal significance. Objection to this situation is as much part of the system as anything else, and so this is hard to fight from the
inside. Contradictory thoughts are part of each human as well, and we don’t see them splitting up into smaller parts of man when in doubt. If one wishes to withdraw his/her individualism from the group and restore his/her privacy, the only way to do so would be to distinguish oneself from all this. To achieve this, one must accept the situation, assuming you won’t be able to detach yourself deliberately from something whose existence you fail to admit. Next, the process of birth must be set in motion, not physical birth but a more spiritual one, not denying that there might be some mental squeezing involved none the less. Birth is the only way that there can be separation without destroying the old, becoming a child of your culture, not destroying it and not having to answer to it.
The personal perception on which my work is based might be influenced by this: trying not to be overpowered by the phenomenon of collective consciousness and defining my own conditions based upon my findings; not taking things for granted but stubbornly reinventing everything; not willing to incorporate functions that are there only because of popular demand, without adding anything that is of importance to me.
Positioning myself beyond this mainstream doesn’t make me an outsider artist, although people sometimes refer to my work as being ‘brut’. Just as any other artist, my work depends greatly upon personal views and opinions, thus turning it into something that’s unexceptionally different. There are always terms to describe this privateness, but the term ‘outsider art’ is used all too easily nowadays. I see my work more as a form of involuntary passive resistance, being aware of the world around me and determining that I will not incorporate its stigmatized rules in my creative process.
Michael
Dotolo (1972)
www.defenestrated.org
md@defenestrated.org
Dotolo (1972)
www.defenestrated.org
md@defenestrated.org
My work
My artistic disposition is derived from the natural world, organic structures and the pure form of elements. Specifically, I take interest in music that models, explores, examines, and aestheticizes ecological phenomena. From Messian’s Réveil des oiseaux to the iconoclastic recordings of Humpback Whales made by Roger Payne; the canopy which influences me could blot out the sun. But, multiplicity serves as a reminder, that we, as a species, have learned only a little from our environment. There are dialogues we have no words for, designs for structures we have not yet recognized. The universe is at our doorstep.
In stepping outside the door, I am reminded of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave; that is, imagination is so much larger than we allow ourselves to imagine. Perhaps this self-imposed limitation protects our consciousness from floating off into the ether. Or, perhaps there is just too much fear of leaving the cave. In any case, I hope there is sufficient courage to welcome all this century has to offer.
I will be relieved when the ghost of the 20th century is laid to rest. Think of all of the challenges and the scanty time available to resolve such profound socio-economic and environmental problems. Sink or swim, lads.
We cannot say that Utopia lies ahead, devoid of economy and all the burdens which stratify humanity. But I do believe that the role of the artist is changing. Self-expression is a human right (perhaps a necessity), not an exclusionary act practised solely by artists. Artists will need to be active in developing skills and social communication. As technology infuses itself deeper into the fabric of our consciousness, there will only be more occasion for Art (and Science) to depart from 20th-century concepts of individuality and ownership.
Already, it is all too easy to form multidisciplinary collaborations given the evolution of communication technologies. The individual is a specialist, genius even, but impotent compared to a ubiquitous collective that is efficient, intelligent, economical, and topical. Originality is a thing of the past. The probability that your (and my) fresh idea has already been eloquently realized in another region of the world is very likely. I say this not to belittle our importance, but to underscore the goals we share. Commonalities are becoming more common, although they do exist in an array of distinct identities. Simply said: putting a box over one’s head, does not mean the light went out.
Overall, it is my sincere hope that the collective imagination of Art will direct its potential towards practical and fantastic solutions for the problematic legacy of the past. In the words of Joyce Kilmer: ‘I think that I shall never see....A poem as lovely as a tree.’1
1. Joyce Kilmer, Trees and Other Poems,
New York: Doran, 1914 / London:
Duckworth, 1941.
The studio
The role of space in the studio is an implicit factor of the creative process. Events of light, sound, and time depend on space for their existence. If we did not have space to organize our thoughts and actions, we would be working in a vacuum unable to develop our conscience beyond a timeframe of nanoseconds.
The studio has traditionally been viewed as a place where work occurs, predominantly a variety of work that is creative in its nature. It is not a place where one is intended to ‘live’, in the sense that living entails domestic activities. Studio
space is as personal and representative of one’s character as domestic space.
Therefore, it is essential that visitors may be offered a public space with some comforts and basic hospitality. Having said this, a spatial division between the public and the peri-personal is required. That is, given the specific nature of my own creative media, it is necessary to have tools and materials within reach, as well as a table space enabling me to work on an object. Most would argue that a peri-personal space should be comfortable, conducive to one’s effortless workflow. Perhaps this is true if an artist’s creative process burns wattages of intellect, or demands stability as a prerequisite for expressiveness. But, perhaps it is equally true that when a space becomes comfortable or too familiar it evokes feelings of anxiety or displacement. In other words, if you are too accustomed to the peri-personal environment, no operational thoughts are required. Reaching for a tool, such as a screwdriver, becomes a mundane act, or one which has contextualized an associative learning process. This does not mean that there is anything wrong with habits.
However, if the creative process you actively seek to engage is tactile, deliberate, well-considered, that is, dependent on the process itself, then dislocating yourself from your physical presence is counter-productive. In other words, fostering involuntary mundanity of conditioned behaviour is antithetical to the goal of invoking a thoughtful, sacred space. By regularly rearranging the workspace, I instil a sense of temporality and transience reflecting a universal paradigm.
Rongrong
Bi (1982)
www.birongrong.com
birongrong@hotmail.com
Bi (1982)
www.birongrong.com
birongrong@hotmail.com
Open rules - One
During my study of Traditional Chinese Landscape Painting, I spent time practising calligraphy in order to understand the significance of brush works, in other words, the meaning of lines. In calligraphy, each mark has a meaning and there is a specific energy to each mark that leads me where I am trying to go. In the Chinese landscape, there are certain ways to paint this kind of fern or that sort of tree, this kind of grass on that type of mountain. The difference in the brushstrokes produces the difference in the essence of the objects.
I am stuck
by my previous experiences.
I want to break
with my previous experiences.
I am open to new experiences.
Two
My study at the Frank Mohr Institute starts from ‘I’.
I look for new interests.
I want to explore new approaches to present my interests.
I put Chinese brushwork aside, and forget I was
a wash-ink painter.
I start to make drawings,
just like sketching.
I try to develop a language through drawing, which can communicate the different types of objects that I experience
in my everyday life.
I nurture an interest in how to represent the relationship between two objects.
Three
My understanding of the above is growing by consistently creating drawings. Presenting them in different dimensions, different scales, and different media develops the drawings.
I want to know
where I step on.
I get lost.
I want to know
the relationship between
the past and the present.
Four
The energy shown in my drawings has a relationship with my previous brushwork experience.
I keep exploring lines.
I pay attention to the energy of lines when they intersect or are superimposed, instead of examining the specific energy of each mark.
Five
The relationship between the lines can represent the relationship between the objects I perceive.
I am still seeking
the exquisiteness of the energy.
Six
The past and the present
Are different.
But they are intimate.
They are related.
There is a desire in me
to describe life.
A moment in my studio
Sitting in my studio, staring at what I did the day before, doubting whether I should continue these 25 little panels and finish them as a big complete painting, or paint and present them separately. Taking some parts off and putting them back again somewhere else, like doing a puzzle. Obviously I feel some pain when making the complete painting, which relates to the problems of colour connection, the organization of shapes, movement of the elements, and an overall composition, and thousands more of such dilemmas. At this moment, nobody is forcing me to go in a certain direction. I am struggling with my own curiosity about the effects that come with the big painting, perhaps seeing possibilities I missed in my previous works. Going in to the process means I have to deal with my own clumsiness; making something I am not familiar with. I cherish an advice in a letter from Gregory Amenoff to young artists: ‘Don’t be afraid to do dumb things in the studio.’ 1
The studio has the greatest freedom for me when it is isolated from the outside world; then it invites me to explore. When I am completely on my own I can be 100% dedicated to the work.
1. Gregory Amenoff, in: Sarah Andress, Peter Nesbett (eds.), Letters to a Young Artist, New York:
Darte Publishing LLC, 2006, 19-21, 20.
Sahal
Merchant (1945)
www.sahalmerchant.com
sahalm@gmail.com
Merchant (1945)
www.sahalmerchant.com
sahalm@gmail.com
My work
The past two years at the Frank Mohr Institute have been a very experimental stage for me.
I’ve had my productive and unproductive phases making ART. Most of the time, I grew weary trying to come up with work that I could be personally satisfied with – mundane!!
My stint with Interactive Art and New Media is fairly recent. In the past, my art was more restricted to illustrations, print, video and animation. I took a break from these commercial forms of practising art to experiment with other techniques – software and materials. I could practise art without worrying about pleasing a client. What also interested me was trying to use some visual cultural influences (in a subtle way) in my work. One of my goals is to create art where my audience would not merely be spectators. We’ve come to a point in time where we share almost everything freely, so why not share with someone else the fun of playing around – interaction!!
I’m now using discarded/scrap material, and working towards making a sustainable piece of artwork. With every visit to the junkyard I pick up some new material someone decided to remove from his or her life – a different shape, size and weight. This adds to the uncertainty of how my art is going to shape up, I have just a basic plan but no fixed design – surprise!!
I’m not pretending to make a masterpiece. I don’t know how it will work out in the end. I love the unpredictability of the process and I’m enjoying every bit of it. Fun!!
Sanne
Klijs (1986)
www.sanneklijs.nl
info@sanneklijs.nl
Klijs (1986)
www.sanneklijs.nl
info@sanneklijs.nl
My work
I would like to make use of the ability of art to express matters that are preferably left unsaid. Tensions between people, twisted relationships and embracing the craziness of personality traits intrigue me. What is to be found behind closed doors, in the literal sense of a domestic situation or in the psychological sense of someone’s mind?
Similar to the method of John Pylypchuk, I want to break the ice with edginess. His creatures talk about the sickness of life with a cheeky grin on their faces. My stories emerge from installations and videos. I use my own body in the videos, entering the concept through adaptation. Cindy Sherman formed a great source of inspiration to me in her use of this medium. I find a similar occurrence of victimizing the woman in my work, as also happened, often unintentionally, to Cindy Sherman. Referring to the 70s performance culture, I like to push the drama in my work. This derives from a fascination for Marina Abramovic and her sense of sacrifice for the arts. However much I make use of drama, romance and cheesy love, it always holds an oblivious character and, in-between the sensual and the sweetness, banal imagery is waiting to be discovered. There is always a naïve kind of seduction at stake, leaving the work with a disquieted undertone.
I find myself enchanted by bright imagery; overly romantic movie scenes, bright colours, playfulness, Mozart’s giggle. In the use of this type of imagery, Mike Kelley forms a great source of inspiration to me. As well as I relate to his concept, I also enjoy the way his medium and artistic language overwhelm by means of the installation of video screens and playground elements. The playful imagery covers the darkness of its reality and he is utterly convincing in his language through his experienced hand in combining a yellow curve and a frog on an egg shaped panel with a wooden decorative plinth on the bottom of it. Being conscious of the way in which my work addresses the viewer, I am interested in Kelley’s irresistible quality, as well as the artist’s personal sacrifice that I find in Abramovic. I am not looking for the certainty in lines as in Kelley’s work, but work rather with an uncertainty that shows through the handwriting and reveals the stress present in my work.
The studio
Within the current discussion on the significance of the studio, I see the studio as a tool of communication, with the art practice as its actual definition. I do not concur with any such statement such as ‘the studio has fallen’. Media in art have changed, an expansion in possible media has taken place and the studio adapts itself to the medium of the artist.
To my mind, the idea of a fallen studio is an exaggeration because, although the possibility to work without a studio does exist, the number of artists who do so is merely a fraction of the immense number of existing artists. I would describe the studio as a basis for the relationship between the artist and the artwork, yet this does not suffice as a definition of that relationship, which takes place outside of the studio just as well. On that line of thought, should we view the studio as a physical space? For the artist working without a studio, such as Gabriel Orozco for example, the street could be defined as his studio, for one of his works was to drive around in a van and make spontaneous sculptures out of garbage found on the sidewalk. On a mental level, the idea of a fallen studio is impossible, there is no artist without the contemplation area in his/her mind.
What this signifies to us is that art is really a practice of the mind; painting, sculpture or video are mere tools for expression, the exciting part for the artist takes place in the mental process of developing the ideas. The question arises as to how far the artist can push this. An artist could go so far as not to produce any work at all, placing the full importance on the concepts in his mind, but what does this bring him or us? I think that that is a stage that has to be targeted in art, but only to find that that is not the ultimate goal. What soothes the idea that starts off as a potential loss is that this loss is not really possible; the studio remains in the mind of the artist, the physical space that is suitable for this may vary, and it is the result of the work that counts.
Sonja-Vanessa
Schmitz (1982)
www.controlartelite.com
contact@controlartelite.com
Schmitz (1982)
www.controlartelite.com
contact@controlartelite.com
My work
The properties of space and materiality play a substantial role in our environment. What are things made of? What holds them together? I work with a combination of tactile and digital media. In installations, based on sculptures, costumes, graphics and simple electronics, I mix cience fiction themes with scientific small-time facts and elements from pop culture and kitsch. Computer-generated images and 3-D animations reveal intangible elements and create new spaces, materials, objects and rules.
Omniscient characters pose in costumes in photographs and films and investigate the roles of both the scientist and artist.
My work
I regard making a painting as the creation of a drama: I make the decors, select the props and suggest a situation. My recollections and my fascination for television and computer games form the starting point for the situations I create. By alternating loose brushstrokes with more detailed paintwork, I play a game with the theme and the side issues. What is important and what isn’t? I aim to arrive at a point where these values converge, so that apparently everyday objects and themes acquire a mysterious and absurdist character.
The studio
I used to think that a painter worked in an atelier. I associated the word ‘studio’ with television, with recording. To me, a studio evokes the illusion that everything is possible, in view of the blend of illusions and truths that appears on television. Now that I have become a painter myself, I regard my atelier as a studio as well: in my studio I make recordings. To me there are two studios, a physical one and a mental one. In my mental studio, my ideas, recollections and associations make up these recordings. My physical studio is a workplace, an exhibition space, a restaurant and discotheque. My mental studio is always with me, on the streets,
on holiday, in my dreams, and in my studio.
![<span class=amy_image_title>Kleedhokjes [Cubicles], 2009</span><span class=amy_image_description>oil and acrylic on panel
25 x 30 cm</span>](/data/full_158_3e29f3619661b4f78309863452f8f949.jpg)
![<span class=amy_image_title>Oma Loning [Grandma Loning], 2010</span><span class=amy_image_description>oil on panel
40 x 50 cm</span>](/data/full_158_d47a2f08eb15d5eeb0694e0374a8f54b.jpg)
My work
I am a material girl,
whether I want to or not.
When I was young I had already more eyes for the pink blanket than for my little cousin that lay under it. Materials, patterns, structures; soft and sweet or dangerous, hard and sharp. Dark or very bright colors. Acrylic, pastas, gels and glitter. Balloons, candy, teddy bears, plastic stuff like guns (wish to have real ones), mirrors, knifes, (fake) fur. My work is my world and it can become everyone’s. Some time ago I had an idea and I didn’t have so much time. I checked the Internet, made a visit and a few hours later, a car stopped in front of my studio. Two men in black suits made the delivery. I even asked if it was empty, they laughed and walked in and put the coffin in my studio. I can work hard, but with my ideas, I prefer to deal fast.
I am an observer,
whether I look or not.
When I was young, there was a lot of hatred in me. I watched social behavior and situations but didn’t understand any of it. I dreamed about shooting and killing and at the time it felt that was rescuing me for sure. Perhaps I dreamed it to get rid of all the anger, so I could start every day nice and fresh. Now I know more; observing, reading to understand and it gives me a lot more peace. Of course there are still so many things that I don’t understand, but that pushes me to keep observing. Situations, people and their stories, they make life interesting and captivating. It can be changes in lifestyle, behavior between man and woman, myself in contact with others: patterns and structures, free or strictly ordered, changing and repeating.
I am an artist, whether I make it
or not.
When I was young I painted at my grandma’s place. She was always decorating wooden objects. I was always painting flowers, creating patterns and decorating objects that I got from her. I painted with very bright colors but always next to black and white blocks. I like that contrast and I still use it nowadays. I can make whatever I want. The skills, the craft, my imagination, tons of ideas, and maybe some good or bad memories, push me to make a lot of work. I can love and wonder, observe or listen, smile or cry but I can always make work, because I have to.
The studio
I could not survive without my studio. It contains the things I have collected, all those works I have produced. That is where it starts and ends. It is a place full of hope, desires, yearnings, and also of awareness, processing, change, amazement and gratitude.
This is my studio, which is so personal and where it is evident that I am working there. Those colours, those shapes, the paint. Figures, soft toys, scattered playthings. A couple of inflatable dolls. Paintings on the wall, on the floor or
in a corner. A collage of photos.
Everyone says that there is so much to see. I do produce a lot. One work borrows the next, and so it continues. A change in my life means a new development
in my studio.
My studio is a place that can be an own personal world, but it is also the place to understand the outside world better, by distancing myself and by gaining insight
at the same time into what is being perceived and experienced.
Yuan
Gao (1983)
www.yuan-gao.com
youlan.059@gmail.com
Gao (1983)
www.yuan-gao.com
youlan.059@gmail.com
My work
Filling in the gaps
My life experiences have always been full of alternation, in both a physical and spiritual respect.
Every short trip or long journey is like the formation of a fresh drawing, of an imaginary voyage. Coming to unfamiliar or exotic places and having been amazed by them is to me nothing less than a sort of bewilderment; an insight into the lacunae that are in the mind. Memory thus starts to fabricate an alternative narration, which is anecdotal in the light of an individual discernment and apprehension of reality.
Travelling has become a way to seek novelty and diversity. Sometimes, when everything has periodically returned to the state of ‘business as usual’, I can allow my emotions to dwell on the fleetingness of experience. Then, bit by bit, these experiences will possibly be locked up in my memory or, alternatively, they will disappear without trace. Sometimes there can be an empathetic occurrence in my life that is relevant to its experiential counterpart in my memory. This stirs up the desire to reform and refine those fragmented recollections. They turn out to be a series of twisted, deformed and misshaped sequences of reminiscence.
There is a real ‘history’ which stands behind my works of art. Actually, it is more like a place, a ‘place’ that is constantly there, haunting my mind evocatively. It is a place where I used to spend my time in childhood and adolescence, a place that never had any proper name or description.
I have witnessed the whole process of it being maintained, developed, and then being devoured and metamorphosed as a consequence of modernization and urbanization in my home city. The alterations will not stop. In my mind, as a conjunction, this place is a land of loss, but not a land of forgetting.
The past can never chronologically return to the present. However, the ‘place’ remains in my mental reality. It symbolizes a conceptual space where ramifications of occurrences and contingencies are interrelated to form a complex of creation. In this ‘place’, self-awareness, sagacity and sensitivity to reality deteriorate to recollections. Therefore, my working process is aimed at regaining this awareness in order to reconstruct the understanding of environmental and mental alteration.
My mind is full of wonder, but there is also confusion and uncertainty. It wanders, searching for answers in both novelty and deviation in what resembles an act of tracing. It penetrates the practice of thinking and understanding, which consequently stimulates the work of art.
Monologue
The studio is a temporary cave for meditation;
a land of localizable territory;
it can be moved or altered at any time, and anywhere.
The studio is a stuffy and unventilated cellar,
when its master is troubled about finding progressive steps.
It is of a splendid and magnificent grandeur,
when its master adores every discovery.
Maybe someday,
the studio will become the fallacious Utopia resulting in the death of the artist.
Maybe someday,
the studio will turn out to be the tomb of inspiration; the crucifier of originality.
The studio is a battlefield where the enemy is no one but oneself.
Permanently conquering, challenging.
One cannot leave it, nor escape from it.
It is a stage with no spectators,
the artist being the only participant;
she is making the real show.
The studio is in the artist’s mind;
a part of her mentality;
a realm in her idealistic nature.
