

Mami 


             This moving garden installation centers around a small ceramic dog named Mami, who sits atop a pillar, and whose belly has been sliced open. From the belly flows a steady stream of water, which in turn is slowly irrigated into the soil of the garden below. From the garden we see the growth of a variety of weeds which had been gathered from in and around the Binckhorst’s Dogtown surroundings. The aim to visualise the moral paradox of growth through violence by following a story about my mother and her friend; Mami the dog. 
             The story goes that every year my mother and her colleagues would work for some months in the small greek town of Narthaki, where Mami lived. Every year that they went, Mami would be pregnant, or nursing a new litter, and since Mami was a street dog this proved to be a particularly excessive strain on her body. After a time of noticing this cycle my mom, together with her colleagues, collected enough money to get Mami spayed, and in this way, spared her somewhat from the conditions of her circumstance. 
             The anxiety of pregnancy and the threat it presents unto the body antagonizes an old moral code. Following the writings of Silvia Federici in Caliban and the Witch; chilbearing has longtime been a condition of womanhood and motherhood. It is through this ideology that the female body could be claimed by a (christian) patriarchy, and where a loss of fertility assumes ‘a loss of purpose’. With Mami however, spaying is approached as a necessary act by which she can lead a full life. This installation therefore, reflects on the duality by which an act of violence and supposed mutilation, is simultaneously one of growth and mercy. 
             The social condition of ‘growth’ emerges as a challenge through the state of the garden as well. Rather than it being neat and clean, the garden is fast growing, wild, and full of unwanted street seeds, brambles, bushes, and saplings. These leafy ‘outsiders’ are reimagined in a frame of subversive possibilities for strength, furthermore posing a question on the nature of desired, and undesired identity/reproduction. 
             The location of Dogtown frames this work in a surrounding of hybrid collage, playfully disruptive graffiti, and experimental material. This, along with the out-of-the-way nature of the garage, turns the space into a kind of secret, anarchist dwelling through which new forms of expression and identity begin to develop. Mami, in this push and pull environment, reconciles its vulnerability as a source for power, and amidst the fiery tempers of the Dogtown, grows into it, unfettered.


             Anna

             This moving garden installation centers around a small ceramic dog named Mami, who sits atop a pillar, and whose belly has been sliced open. From the belly flows a steady stream of water, which in turn is slowly irrigated into the soil of the garden below. From the garden we see the growth of a variety of weeds which had been gathered from in and around the Binckhorst’s Dogtown surroundings. The aim to visualise the moral paradox of growth through violence by following a story about my mother and her friend; Mami the dog. 

             The story goes that every year my mother and her colleagues would work for some months in the small greek town of Narthaki, where Mami lived. Every year that they went, Mami would be pregnant, or nursing a new litter, and since Mami was a street dog this proved to be a particularly excessive strain on her body. After a time of noticing this cycle my mom, together with her colleagues, collected enough money to get Mami spayed, and in this way, spared her somewhat from the conditions of her circumstance. 

             The anxiety of pregnancy and the threat it presents unto the body antagonizes an old moral code. Following the writings of Silvia Federici in Caliban and the Witch; chilbearing has longtime been a condition of womanhood and motherhood. It is through this ideology that the female body could be claimed by a (christian) patriarchy, and where a loss of fertility assumes ‘a loss of purpose’. With Mami however, spaying is approached as a necessary act by which she can lead a full life. This installation therefore, reflects on the duality by which an act of violence and supposed mutilation, is simultaneously one of growth and mercy. 

             The social condition of ‘growth’ emerges as a challenge through the state of the garden as well. Rather than it being neat and clean, the garden is fast growing, wild, and full of unwanted street seeds, brambles, bushes, and saplings. These leafy ‘outsiders’ are reimagined in a frame of subversive possibilities for strength, furthermore posing a question on the nature of desired, and undesired identity/reproduction. 

             The location of Dogtown frames this work in a surrounding of hybrid collage, playfully disruptive graffiti, and experimental material. This, along with the out-of-the-way nature of the garage, turns the space into a kind of secret, anarchist dwelling through which new forms of expression and identity begin to develop. Mami, in this push and pull environment, reconciles its vulnerability as a source for power, and amidst the fiery tempers of the Dogtown, grows into it, unfettered.



Title(s): * en
“Ik maakte dit werk in de hoop dat ik me daardoor een groot kunstenaar zou voelen. Maar dat gebeurde niet. Dus ik zal dit nooit meer doen. ”

Een orgaan dat opzwelt. De lucht langzaam in en uit inhaleer, het ademt, het leeft. Een ruimte zo groot, dat als je erin beweegt, je voor een moment je van de wereld begeeft. Een raster openbaart zich met het licht dat er doorheen valt. Van buiten een zeppelin, ruimteschip of walvis. Maar voornamelijk een orgaan dat de ruimte heeft overgenomen als een kankergezwel. Het zit klem en vast en probeert overal doorheen te komen. Van binnen een schuilplek in isolatie afgesneden van zijn omgeving. Een ruimte die functioneert als grot, een plek om terug te keren naar jezelf. Een Utopia in een Dystopie. Een veranderende wereld vol van desinformatie en ziekte, die ons bewustzijn verziekt. Door miscommunicatie als een bewust gelegde knoop in ons trommelvlies. Kunnen we ons afvragen, wat betekent het nog om eerlijk te zijn? Gehaat als we alleen geliefd worden. Wanneer zijn we het eerlijkst? Is dat wanneer we ons hart op tafel leggen? Of presenteert het zich als de stromende watervallen over onze wangen glijden? Misschien zijn we wel te bewust geworden van eerlijkheid. Een tool om te misbruiken. Ga met ons mee in een zoektocht van liefde, pijn en verdriet.

Er is geen marmer maar wel gekanker.
Geen koffie wel bier.
Kunst als heroïne.
Als levensbehoefte.
Niet voor de koning maar de zwerver.
Fuck de insta story's.
Leef is godverdomme!



English version
Title(s): * and
“ I made this work hoping it would make me feel like a great artist. But it did not. So I will never do this again. ”

An organ that swells. The air goes slowly in and out, it inhales, it breathes, it is a life. A space so big that you are for a moment of this world. A grid forms around you. From the outside a zeppelin, spaceship or whale. But mainly an organ that has taken over the space, like a cancer tumor. It’s stuck and tries to get through everything. The inside, a shelter cut off in isolation from its surroundings. A space that functions as a cave and a place to return to yourself. A Utopia in a Dystopia. A changing world full of disinformation and disease that is ruining our consciousness. Through miscommunication as a consciously tied knot in our eardrum. Can we ask ourselves, what does it mean to be honest? Only hated when we are loved. The fairest to yourself? Is that when we put our hearts on the table? Or do we only see it when gushing waterfalls sliding down our cheeks? Maybe we have become too aware of honesty. A tool to abuse. Join us in a quest of love, pain and sorrow.

Not marble but cancer.
Not coffee but beer.
Art like heroin.
As a necessity of life.
Not for the king, but the hobo on the streets.
Fuck the insta story’s.
Life is goddamnit!




“Ik maakte dit werk in de hoop dat ik me daardoor een groot kunstenaar zou voelen. Maar dat gebeurde niet. Dus ik zal dit nooit meer doen. ”

Een orgaan dat opzwelt. De lucht langzaam in en uit inhaleer, het ademt, het leeft. Een ruimte zo groot, dat als je erin beweegt, je voor een moment je van de wereld begeeft. Een raster openbaart zich met het licht dat er doorheen valt. Van buiten een zeppelin, ruimteschip of walvis. Maar voornamelijk een orgaan dat de ruimte heeft overgenomen als een kankergezwel. Het zit klem en vast en probeert overal doorheen te komen. Van binnen een schuilplek in isolatie afgesneden van zijn omgeving. Een ruimte die functioneert als grot, een plek om terug te keren naar jezelf. Een Utopia in een Dystopie. Een veranderende wereld vol van desinformatie en ziekte, die ons bewustzijn verziekt. Door miscommunicatie als een bewust gelegde knoop in ons trommelvlies. Kunnen we ons afvragen, wat betekent het nog om eerlijk te zijn? Gehaat als we alleen geliefd worden. Wanneer zijn we het eerlijkst? Is dat wanneer we ons hart op tafel leggen? Of presenteert het zich als de stromende watervallen over onze wangen glijden? Misschien zijn we wel te bewust geworden van eerlijkheid. Een tool om te misbruiken. Ga met ons mee in een zoektocht van liefde, pijn en verdriet.

“ I made this work hoping it would make me feel like a great artist. But it did not. So I will never do this again. ”

An organ that swells. The air goes slowly in and out, it inhales, it breathes, it is a life. A space so big that you are for a moment of this world. A grid forms around you. From the outside a zeppelin, spaceship or whale. But mainly an organ that has taken over the space, like a cancer tumor. It’s stuck and tries to get through everything. The inside, a shelter cut off in isolation from its surroundings. A space that functions as a cave and a place to return to yourself. A Utopia in a Dystopia. A changing world full of disinformation and disease that is ruining our consciousness. Through miscommunication as a consciously tied knot in our eardrum. Can we ask ourselves, what does it mean to be honest? Only hated when we are loved. The fairest to yourself? Is that when we put our hearts on the table? Or do we only see it when gushing waterfalls sliding down our cheeks? Maybe we have become too aware of honesty. A tool to abuse. Join us in a quest of love, pain and sorrow.

Not for the king, but the hobo on the streets.



“Theodora and the Flood”


Hey! On December 10th I’m going to tell you a story about two women and flood. Let’s talk a bit about it first.

You know a flood is a flood when there’s egregious amounts of 💦 liquids💦.
You know a liquid is a liquid when it fills a 🌫 space🌫 .
What liquids are we 🚫 not🚫 okay with filling spaces?
Which people are we 🚫 not🚫 okay with filling spaces?

🌊 Floods🌊 can be as 🍯 sweet🍯 as the Great Boston Molasses Spill of 1919 or as 🌌 dark🌌 as the Pennsylvania Death Fog in 1948. But a 💧flood💧 can also be a huge crowd of 👩‍👩‍👦‍👦 people👩‍👩‍👦‍👦 or blowing your 👃 nose👃 too hard in January. All we need to know about them is it’s time to ⚠️stand back⚠️

“ Hark! I WILL squirt my pimple juice on you, sir. I will spit on the sidewalk next to your feet and clog your sink with sewage. When you step back I will step forward and when you step forward I will also step forward. This is what it means to flood. “

I’m so 😌 happy😌 to be having this 🖼 exhibition🖼 for you and I’d like you to come so I can 💩 poop💩 in your pants!


Hey! On December 10th I’m going to tell you a story about two women and flood. Let’s talk a bit about it first.

You know a flood is a flood when there’s egregious amounts of 💦 liquids💦.

You know a liquid is a liquid when it fills a 🌫 space🌫 .

What liquids are we 🚫 not🚫 okay with filling spaces?

Which people are we 🚫 not🚫 okay with filling spaces?

🌊 Floods🌊 can be as 🍯 sweet🍯 as the Great Boston Molasses Spill of 1919 or as 🌌 dark🌌 as the Pennsylvania Death Fog in 1948. But a 💧flood💧 can also be a huge crowd of 👩‍👩‍👦‍👦 people👩‍👩‍👦‍👦 or blowing your 👃 nose👃 too hard in January. All we need to know about them is it’s time to ⚠️stand back⚠️

“ Hark! I WILL squirt my pimple juice on you, sir. I will spit on the sidewalk next to your feet and clog your sink with sewage. When you step back I will step forward and when you step forward I will also step forward. This is what it means to flood. “

I’m so 😌 happy😌 to be having this 🖼 exhibition🖼 for you and I’d like you to come so I can 💩 poop💩 in your pants!




untitled

A TEXT ABOUT MY WORK BUT MY WORK CAN WRITE IT BETTER. 

The work produced from sept-now has been about expressing personal anger and disgust with you and with myself (but mostly with you). I want to make you feel uncomfortable be put in place because I don’t feel like hiding anymore I want To Take Up Space, perhaps/probably/ultimately your space, and confront you with what you do. I don’t care about being wrong I don’t care about being right. all I want is to be all the space in your head. /// to relieve the pressure on my head.

Like a parasite, I want to infect your thoughts with feelings of guilt, shock, anger, sadness or shame, without rationalizing it, just what I feel, not what you feel, no empathy, not even for myself maybe this is the most emphatic thing that I have done for myself.

Narcissistic work.

Unfiltered thoughts to come to the truth of what I feel.

And to let that work infect all over so it can be the only thing you feel, always finding a way into our eyesight.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A told me to remove my “graffiti” from the windows, because they believed that if the owner of the building would get scared when he sees it, as it is seemingly too “street”. They think it looks like vandalism.

To me, this is complete bullshit.

First of all, we are located in the Binckhorstlaan, a location filled with street art.

Secondly, it is an artwork, not vandalism. I think this is extremely disrespectful towards my work and effort.

Thirdly, it would be removed at the end of the exhibition, it was not permanent.

4. Art should scare you sometimes

5. It was never communicated to me it was not allowed. We were told to leave the building in the state that it was in before (there was even graffiti on there when we came in!!)

6. I am placed in the group “animal city, where wild hybrid figures roam”, yet I’m not allowed to be even slightly “wild”?

7. To limit art means to disrespect art. Art is there to go where it wants to go.

8. My work is about taking over space, and being able to express my anger/frustration.

9. Anger is the last act of love. Frustration is healing.

A. I hope you can understand my opinion.



A TEXT ABOUT MY WORK BUT MY WORK CAN WRITE IT BETTER. 

The work produced from sept-now has been about expressing personal anger and disgust with you and with myself (but mostly with you). I want to make you feel uncomfortable be put in place because I don’t feel like hiding anymore I want To Take Up Space, perhaps/probably/ultimately your space, and confront you with what you do. I don’t care about being wrong I don’t care about being right. all I want is to be all the space in your head. /// to relieve the pressure on my head.

Like a parasite, I want to infect your thoughts with feelings of guilt, shock, anger, sadness or shame, without rationalizing it, just what I feel, not what you feel, no empathy, not even for myself maybe this is the most emphatic thing that I have done for myself.

Unfiltered thoughts to come to the truth of what I feel.

And to let that work infect all over so it can be the only thing you feel, always finding a way into our eyesight.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A told me to remove my “graffiti” from the windows, because they believed that if the owner of the building would get scared when he sees it, as it is seemingly too “street”. They think it looks like vandalism.

To me, this is complete bullshit.

First of all, we are located in the Binckhorstlaan, a location filled with street art.

Secondly, it is an artwork, not vandalism. I think this is extremely disrespectful towards my work and effort.

Thirdly, it would be removed at the end of the exhibition, it was not permanent.

4. Art should scare you sometimes


5. It was never communicated to me it was not allowed. We were told to leave the building in the state that it was in before (there was even graffiti on there when we came in!!)


6. I am placed in the group “animal city, where wild hybrid figures roam”, yet I’m not allowed to be even slightly “wild”?

7. To limit art means to disrespect art. Art is there to go where it wants to go.

8. My work is about taking over space, and being able to express my anger/frustration.


9. Anger is the last act of love. Frustration is healing.

A. I hope you can understand my opinion.


Pons Asinorum - Donkey Bridge

Night is dark
Giant Uma arrives in Egypt                                                              
Before Moses kills the golden calf

Night is dark
Giant Uma arrives in Egypt
Before they destroy all the holy animals

Night is so dark
She can only save one
                                                                                          a little one         
                                                                                   the weakest one
this little, weakest one
will carry the child of God to Jerusalem!


In the matriarchal period, Uma was a goddess for Mongolia, who protected babies, pregnant women and animals. She offered protection to all vulnerable beings in difficult life situations.

In this oil painting(270x150cm) and site specific mural, Uma as a foreign goddess has been introduced to the well known biblical narrative - Moses and the Golden Calf. Moses returned to Egypt, burnt the Golden Calf which was worshiped by Hebrews during the period of the Exodus. Moses punished the calf worshippers, forced them to drink water which was mixed with molten gold from the calf.

Uma interrupted this storyline, she arrived in Egypt and tried to protect calf worshippers and all other holy animals. However, she couldn’t help many, she only managed to save one, a little one - the Messiah’s donkey. And this little donkey will carry Jesus to Jerusalem. Therefore, if Uma didn’t save the donkey, Jesus wouldn't reach Jerusalem, and Moses wouldn’t become the future Moses himself.

By displacing a foreign goddess from a matriarchal time into biblical literature, a time travel happens here. Uma enters another territory and disturbs the linear passage of “history”. Her presence synthesises a novel path which reterritorializes the over-celebrated anthropocentric world.

Her protection offered to the other species simply shows: the other as being the other-self. Rescue the other, rescue the other-self.





Giant Uma arrives in Egypt                                                              
Before Moses kills the golden calf

Giant Uma arrives in Egypt
Before they destroy all the holy animals

                                                                                          a little one         
                                                                                   the weakest one

this little, weakest one
will carry the child of God to Jerusalem!

In the matriarchal period, Uma was a goddess for Mongolia, who protected babies, pregnant women and animals. She offered protection to all vulnerable beings in difficult life situations.

In this oil painting(270x150cm) and site specific mural, Uma as a foreign goddess has been introduced to the well known biblical narrative - Moses and the Golden Calf. Moses returned to Egypt, burnt the Golden Calf which was worshiped by Hebrews during the period of the Exodus. Moses punished the calf worshippers, forced them to drink water which was mixed with molten gold from the calf.

Uma interrupted this storyline, she arrived in Egypt and tried to protect calf worshippers and all other holy animals. However, she couldn’t help many, she only managed to save one, a little one - the Messiah’s donkey. And this little donkey will carry Jesus to Jerusalem. Therefore, if Uma didn’t save the donkey, Jesus wouldn't reach Jerusalem, and Moses wouldn’t become the future Moses himself.

By displacing a foreign goddess from a matriarchal time into biblical literature, a time travel happens here. Uma enters another territory and disturbs the linear passage of “history”. Her presence synthesises a novel path which reterritorializes the over-celebrated anthropocentric world.

Her protection offered to the other species simply shows: the other as being the other-self. Rescue the other, rescue the other-self.






How do Caribbean fictional and non-fictional spaces interact, relate, disconnect, clash and coincide? What is the Caribbean non-fictional, and fictional space to me? To the world? Is it a construct that is the result of the gradual evolution from the plantation fields to a notion of paradise?

Is the Caribbean to the Western World a collection of interchangeable islands? If so, how is that possible when the reality is that the history of the Caribbean is one of the main strands in the history of capitalism?

Are these questions themselves a representation of a non-fictional Caribbean space?

How do I recreate a space that allows viewers to ask themselves questions about the reality and unreality of the region that I call home?

This work navigates these questions through a recreated space where both fictional and non-fictional Caribbean realities exist; they don’t necessarily co-exist, but are also not mutually exclusive. I’m not looking to answer questions, but to play with them, to ask more. I’m exploring these curiosities by using visual languages which connect to recurring themes that stand out from the questions above. The use of the language of advertisement and construction equipment comes from wanting to play with how the notion of paradise is sold to begin with, and how everything feels like a construct at times. Always unfinished and always under construction.


How do Caribbean fictional and non-fictional spaces interact, relate, disconnect, clash and coincide? What is the Caribbean non-fictional, and fictional space to me? To the world? Is it a construct that is the result of the gradual evolution from the plantation fields to a notion of paradise?

Is the Caribbean to the Western World a collection of interchangeable islands? If so, how is that possible when the reality is that the history of the Caribbean is one of the main strands in the history of capitalism?

Are these questions themselves a representation of a non-fictional Caribbean space?

How do I recreate a space that allows viewers to ask themselves questions about the reality and unreality of the region that I call home?

This work navigates these questions through a recreated space where both fictional and non-fictional Caribbean realities exist; they don’t necessarily co-exist, but are also not mutually exclusive. I’m not looking to answer questions, but to play with them, to ask more. I’m exploring these curiosities by using visual languages which connect to recurring themes that stand out from the questions above. The use of the language of advertisement and construction equipment comes from wanting to play with how the notion of paradise is sold to begin with, and how everything feels like a construct at times. Always unfinished and always under construction.


The influence of others.

Here I have placed myself in a position of vulnerability by showing my emotions and mind. I am the heart of the work since I know myself and all my faces, expressions and intentions, but know not of others. I discern only what they choose to show me, their first face.

They are a sea of masks surrounding me, they will watch without seeing, judge without knowing. I love and hate them as they do me, showering me with words of great meaning and words that are hollow to the core. I work on what I let in and what I let influence who I am and what I will do.

I show the first impression, a moment in time of a crowd of watchers. How they impact me, how vulnerable and raw I become for them. It is a step I must go through. I cannot skip it or deny it, it is like that of a ritual.

Some heads are warm and bright drawing you in, others are dark and cold. Although light will always lure you away from the dark, since we all seek comfort, the dark has just as much to show us.

Like moths to a flame, you will be drawn to the light, but you need others to tell when you are getting too close, or you will burn out like the many before you.
My centerpiece is the colour of flesh and blood giving the impression of openness, raw to influence. It is the one that draws the eye, for it stands out and is different. I have placed it purposely in the centre of attention using the performance of art to speak out my intention.

I must, since I desire to be open to the world, so I can shout even louder. But without preparation I become the target of those who like to play a game of power. A game that will not play nice to those untrained to handle what is thrown at them. Strength in learning is my solution, lots of support and help along the way, for going solo is the fool’s errand. You are never alone; you must never be alone.

You become one with the watchers, by making contact with the sea of heads.

Who do you want to be? Where do you want to go?
Make way to the path you choose.




Here I have placed myself in a position of vulnerability by showing my emotions and mind. I am the heart of the work since I know myself and all my faces, expressions and intentions, but know not of others. I discern only what they choose to show me, their first face.

They are a sea of masks surrounding me, they will watch without seeing, judge without knowing. I love and hate them as they do me, showering me with words of great meaning and words that are hollow to the core. I work on what I let in and what I let influence who I am and what I will do.

I show the first impression, a moment in time of a crowd of watchers. How they impact me, how vulnerable and raw I become for them. It is a step I must go through. I cannot skip it or deny it, it is like that of a ritual.

Some heads are warm and bright drawing you in, others are dark and cold. Although light will always lure you away from the dark, since we all seek comfort, the dark has just as much to show us.

Like moths to a flame, you will be drawn to the light, but you need others to tell when you are getting too close, or you will burn out like the many before you.

My centerpiece is the colour of flesh and blood giving the impression of openness, raw to influence. It is the one that draws the eye, for it stands out and is different. I have placed it purposely in the centre of attention using the performance of art to speak out my intention.

I must, since I desire to be open to the world, so I can shout even louder. But without preparation I become the target of those who like to play a game of power. A game that will not play nice to those untrained to handle what is thrown at them. Strength in learning is my solution, lots of support and help along the way, for going solo is the fool’s errand. You are never alone; you must never be alone.

You become one with the watchers, by making contact with the sea of heads.

Who do you want to be? Where do you want to go?







Small scale wall pieces that derive from the ever-changing public space that is constantly inside the motion of construction and deconstruction; our building drive.

In my practice I tend to work within this in-between state; working with roughly smeared plaster, construction rods, saw marks, masking tape and so on.











 

Small scale wall pieces that derive from the ever-changing public space that is constantly inside the motion of construction and deconstruction; our building drive.

In my practice I tend to work within this in-between state; working with roughly smeared plaster, construction rods, saw marks, masking tape and so on.




MateREAL World
by Alice West

This multimedia presentation which focuses on studying and celebrating the rapid contrasting situations which make up our lives and translating them into visual forms. The show consists of a large selection of paintings, ceramics, sculpture and a mural all combined into one ‘smack in the face’ immersion into my chaotic world. I was raised from a young age being introduced to many different cultures (having been brought up in Dubai, England and New Zealand to travel obsessed parents) so has had a sense of the duality of the world from a young age, couple this with an anxiety disorder diagnosis at the age of 8 and; The world has always seemed large and overwhelming to me, so it seems natural that in my early 20’s I would start to try to structuralise it while simultaneously trying to relinquish my habits of control. MateREAL World looks at the never-ending lows and highs of living in the modern world and the constant contradictions that surround us. One minute you are thinking to yourself, ‘wow this world around us is fascinating, I just pulled 3 flavours of frozen yogurt out of the wall and finished them with 11 different toppings” and the next your heart breaks seeing a woman sitting outside the Zara sale asking for money and crying from the cold. Both brushing your teeth at the end of the day and solving the climate crisis are important to us, in very different ways. The world is so cruel and so beautiful at the same time, it makes barely any sense, but of course it is this way. I like to play with pattern heavily as a visual metaphor for this contrast, The simplicity of the recurring image coupled with the overwhelming effect of the pattern when you zoom out. Playing with this contrast, I attempt to walk the narrow and uncomfortable line between this enjoyment and terror, nothing is black and white so I douse my works in sickly sweet colour.





This multimedia presentation which focuses on studying and celebrating the rapid contrasting situations which make up our lives and translating them into visual forms. The show consists of a large selection of paintings, ceramics, sculpture and a mural all combined into one ‘smack in the face’ immersion into my chaotic world. I was raised from a young age being introduced to many different cultures (having been brought up in Dubai, England and New Zealand to travel obsessed parents) so has had a sense of the duality of the world from a young age, couple this with an anxiety disorder diagnosis at the age of 8 and; The world has always seemed large and overwhelming to me, so it seems natural that in my early 20’s I would start to try to structuralise it while simultaneously trying to relinquish my habits of control. MateREAL World looks at the never-ending lows and highs of living in the modern world and the constant contradictions that surround us. One minute you are thinking to yourself, ‘wow this world around us is fascinating, I just pulled 3 flavours of frozen yogurt out of the wall and finished them with 11 different toppings” and the next your heart breaks seeing a woman sitting outside the Zara sale asking for money and crying from the cold. Both brushing your teeth at the end of the day and solving the climate crisis are important to us, in very different ways. The world is so cruel and so beautiful at the same time, it makes barely any sense, but of course it is this way. I like to play with pattern heavily as a visual metaphor for this contrast, The simplicity of the recurring image coupled with the overwhelming effect of the pattern when you zoom out. Playing with this contrast, I attempt to walk the narrow and uncomfortable line between this enjoyment and terror, nothing is black and white so I douse my works in sickly sweet colour.







Cardboard Corner

It is a cardboard construction in a corner. It’s creating an additional place within an existing space. It’s finding shelters in shelters. It’s scrutinizing what is there and then trying to subvert the structures of the built environment by adding another built environment. It is like the joy of using tables as chairs and windows as doors. It’s like the desire to shout with whispers and talk in silence.

This corner will host us while we host a radio. We will go live from within on the 12th of December. While sitting inside the cardboard corner we will broadcast Mushroom Pie, a one day radio show in collaboration with Mushroom Radio and A Finger in Every Pie. We will take you on a tasty and tactile tour for the ears. There will be interviews, readings, chats, observations and sounds from the participating artists of the show. We will be turning the physical exhibition into one that fits the air.



https://radiomushroom.org

It is a cardboard construction in a corner. It’s creating an additional place within an existing space. It’s finding shelters in shelters. It’s scrutinizing what is there and then trying to subvert the structures of the built environment by adding another built environment. It is like the joy of using tables as chairs and windows as doors. It’s like the desire to shout with whispers and talk in silence.

This corner will host us while we host a radio. We will go live from within on the 12th of December. While sitting inside the cardboard corner we will broadcast Mushroom Pie, a one day radio show in collaboration with Mushroom Radio and A Finger in Every Pie. We will take you on a tasty and tactile tour for the ears. There will be interviews, readings, chats, observations and sounds from the participating artists of the show. We will be turning the physical exhibition into one that fits the air.





‘Transcribing the past - one artifact at a time’

Worlds collide upon creating my work - the influence of the French, American, and Chinese.
Through symbols and cycles in life, my thoughts manifest and materialise over time,
existing as modern-day artifacts - an echo of a past long forgotten, 
appropriating DuChamp’s displacement of the museum and
pillaging Le Guin’s unfinished narratives and finally
propagating into my own, Ellen-esque carrier
That weaves the vessel and all of
the archives together
into one.



Archiving a library is like indoor gardening.
Letters are seeds that repeat constitutions through karma. 
Words are gathered flowers that propagate memories,
Sheltered in books like a glass enclosed rose
transcribed sentences of germinated time;
with hidden thoughts, future unknown.
Collections of relics that emerge from dormant embryos.
Proprietor of my own portable Cabinet of Curiosities
stemming past and future, transformed as a quilt
adorned with pockets that houses my miniatures.
The seeds I sew spend years in their unwoven jackets,
delivering inner silence so the form can begin to exist.






‘Transcribing the past - one artifact at a time’

Worlds collide upon creating my work - the influence of the French, American, and Chinese.

Through symbols and cycles in life, my thoughts manifest and materialise over time,

existing as modern-day artifacts - an echo of a past long forgotten, 

appropriating DuChamp’s displacement of the museum and

pillaging Le Guin’s unfinished narratives and finally

propagating into my own, Ellen-esque carrier

Archiving a library is like indoor gardening.

Letters are seeds that repeat constitutions through karma. 

Words are gathered flowers that propagate memories,

Sheltered in books like a glass enclosed rose

transcribed sentences of germinated time;

Collections of relics that emerge from dormant embryos.

Proprietor of my own portable Cabinet of Curiosities

stemming past and future, transformed as a quilt

adorned with pockets that houses my miniatures.

The seeds I sew spend years in their unwoven jackets,

delivering inner silence so the form can begin to exist.




Jupiter

                                                 
                                               ‘It’s Time to Pay the Piper’

I must start by acknowledging the significance of this opportunity granted to me by Valentino, Arthur and the wider curatorial team. I must also confess I am not a huge fan of pies or most sweet things actually. But every once in a while along comes a pie that just tickles my fancy.


                                                       What’s on show?
……………………………………………………………………………………………………

I am pleased to announce that Universität Hameln has agreed to loan us three major artefacts from its private collection for the purpose of this exhibition.

On display is one of its most precious artefacts– Die flöte der Rattenfänger von Hameln (The Pied Piper of Hamelin’s flute).

By showing these artefacts alongside each other, we aim to provide our audience with an educated insight into the wonder and gloom surrounding the ‘Pied Piper’.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………


                                                                 About
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
In 1284, a town called Hamelin in Germany became subject to a terrible plague.
It was rat-infested.

To solve the issue, the town called on the Pied Piper.
The Pied Piper played a melody so entrancing it lured all of Hamelin’s rats away.

It was agreed the Pied Piper would be paid for its efforts, but when this time came, the town dishonoured this agreement and turned the Pied Piper away.

As the Pied Piper turned to leave, it put it’s flute to its lips once again and played a melody so entrancing it lured all of Hamelin’s children away.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………


                                             Further acknowledgements
…………………………………………………………………………………………………

In 2004 the Piper is featured on a huge collaboration with Jadakiss and Mariah Carey, ‘U Make Me Wanna’. The hit was nominated ‘Best Song Collaboration by Duo or Group’ at the Annual GV Music & Fashion Awards.

In 2005 the piper strikes again laying down a killer riff for 50 Cent on ‘Just a Lil bit’ peaking at number three on the Hot Billboard Chart, the song is a certified platinum project.

In 2011 the Piper is spotted with Kanye West and Jay Z on ‘Gotta Have it’, another platinum hit.

In 2017 the Pied Piper delivers their masterpiece ‘Mask off’ in collaboration with Future, the song becomes an Internet sensation entering the charts in twenty-seven different countries.

The Piper is also responsible for ‘Tunnel Vision’ by Kodak Black (2017), ‘Praise the lord’ by A$AP Rocky and Skepta and ‘RDX’ by Carns Hill and T Mulla (2018).
In the same year, the Pied Piper worked tirelessly on the Soundtrack for Disney’s ‘Black Panther’, featured on songs X, Paramedic and Big Shot.
And the list goes on…
……………………………………………………………………………………………………

PS don't miss the Pied Piper Playlist broadcasted on our radio show!

-Orah Mark, Sabrina, ‘It’s Time to Pay the Piper’, 2020, https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2020/10/07/its-time-to-pay-the-piper/





                                               ‘It’s Time to Pay the Piper’

I must start by acknowledging the significance of this opportunity granted to me by Valentino, Arthur and the wider curatorial team. I must also confess I am not a huge fan of pies or most sweet things actually. But every once in a while along comes a pie that just tickles my fancy.

                                                       What’s on show?

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

I am pleased to announce that Universität Hameln has agreed to loan us three major artefacts from its private collection for the purpose of this exhibition.

On display is one of its most precious artefacts– Die flöte der Rattenfänger von Hameln (The Pied Piper of Hamelin’s flute).

By showing these artefacts alongside each other, we aim to provide our audience with an educated insight into the wonder and gloom surrounding the ‘Pied Piper’.

                                                                 About

In 1284, a town called Hamelin in Germany became subject to a terrible plague.

To solve the issue, the town called on the Pied Piper.

The Pied Piper played a melody so entrancing it lured all of Hamelin’s rats away.

It was agreed the Pied Piper would be paid for its efforts, but when this time came, the town dishonoured this agreement and turned the Pied Piper away.

As the Pied Piper turned to leave, it put it’s flute to its lips once again and played a melody so entrancing it lured all of Hamelin’s children away.

                                             Further acknowledgements

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

In 2004 the Piper is featured on a huge collaboration with Jadakiss and Mariah Carey, ‘U Make Me Wanna’. The hit was nominated ‘Best Song Collaboration by Duo or Group’ at the Annual GV Music & Fashion Awards.

In 2005 the piper strikes again laying down a killer riff for 50 Cent on ‘Just a Lil bit’ peaking at number three on the Hot Billboard Chart, the song is a certified platinum project.

In 2011 the Piper is spotted with Kanye West and Jay Z on ‘Gotta Have it’, another platinum hit.

In 2017 the Pied Piper delivers their masterpiece ‘Mask off’ in collaboration with Future, the song becomes an Internet sensation entering the charts in twenty-seven different countries.

The Piper is also responsible for ‘Tunnel Vision’ by Kodak Black (2017), ‘Praise the lord’ by A$AP Rocky and Skepta and ‘RDX’ by Carns Hill and T Mulla (2018).

In the same year, the Pied Piper worked tirelessly on the Soundtrack for Disney’s ‘Black Panther’, featured on songs X, Paramedic and Big Shot.

PS don't miss the Pied Piper Playlist broadcasted on our radio show!

-Orah Mark, Sabrina, ‘It’s Time to Pay the Piper’, 2020, https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2020/10/07/its-time-to-pay-the-piper/



I am using the video game engine as a medium itself; designing my own virtual environment which is a presentation of real life. In this game, there is only "a journey" without any aim for achievement. Every day, most people are walking towards their goals.

In my game, I am simulating an infinitive world where memes are used to express emotions, camouflage exposes us to the reality of our lack of control, and looping confronts the player. Hidden portals in a repeating space with no beginning and no end: In the game, portals are placed randomly and they continuously send the player to unexpected places.

We walk towards something which we may never find. We constantly make choices, left and right, but around the corner remains an unknown. 

Will we ever be satisfied?

 please wait it might take a few minutes to load the game🦦

Full screen to have better experience (after fullscreen click on screen once to wake your avatar up!)

I am using the video game engine as a medium itself; designing my own virtual environment which is a presentation of real life. In this game, there is only "a journey" without any aim for achievement. Every day, most people are walking towards their goals.

In my game, I am simulating an infinitive world where memes are used to express emotions, camouflage exposes us to the reality of our lack of control, and looping confronts the player. Hidden portals in a repeating space with no beginning and no end: In the game, portals are placed randomly and they continuously send the player to unexpected places.

We walk towards something which we may never find. We constantly make choices, left and right, but around the corner remains an unknown. 





“Theodora and the Flood”

Hey! On December 10th I’m going to tell you a story about two women and flood. Let’s talk a bit about it first.

You know a flood is a flood when there’s egregious amounts of 💦liquids💦.
You know a liquid is a liquid when it fills a 🌫space🌫 .
What liquids are we 🚫not🚫 okay with filling spaces?
Which people are we 🚫not🚫 okay with filling spaces?

🌊Floods🌊 can be as 🍯sweet🍯 as the Great Boston Molasses Spill of 1919 or as 🌌dark🌌 as the Pennsylvania Death Fog in 1948. But a 💧flood💧 can also be a huge crowd of 👩‍👩‍👦‍👦people👩‍👩‍👦‍👦 or blowing your 👃nose👃 too hard in January. All we need to know about them is it’s time to ⚠️stand back⚠️

“ Hark! I WILL squirt my pimple juice on you, sir. I will spit on the sidewalk next to your feet and clog your sink with sewage. When you step back I will step forward and when you step forward I will also step forward. This is what it means to flood. “

I’m so 😌happy😌 to be having this 🖼exhibition🖼 for you and I’d like you to come so I can 💩poop💩 in your pants!

You know a flood is a flood when there’s egregious amounts of 💦liquids💦.

You know a liquid is a liquid when it fills a 🌫space🌫 .

What liquids are we 🚫not🚫 okay with filling spaces?

Which people are we 🚫not🚫 okay with filling spaces?

🌊Floods🌊 can be as 🍯sweet🍯 as the Great Boston Molasses Spill of 1919 or as 🌌dark🌌 as the Pennsylvania Death Fog in 1948. But a 💧flood💧 can also be a huge crowd of 👩‍👩‍👦‍👦people👩‍👩‍👦‍👦 or blowing your 👃nose👃 too hard in January. All we need to know about them is it’s time to ⚠️stand back⚠️

I’m so 😌happy😌 to be having this 🖼exhibition🖼 for you and I’d like you to come so I can 💩poop💩 in your pants!




Stop fucking about. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop doing nothing when you should be doing something. Get busy living or get busy dying. Hey little rich girl, you’ve done too much - much too young (1). You’re married with a kid when you should be having fun with me! (2) Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.

My entire artistic practice is concerned with the image. After the camera, you can’t be a painter with only paint. To ignore the digital image, the ‘poor image’, the ‘Wretched of the Screen’, would be a big mistake. There are also jokes. I am a serious painter but will always play with what a painting really is. A painting with a photograph of an older painting glued onto another painting. A high resolution image exported, converted, zoomed in, printed, glued, and presented. ‘The poor image is a copy in motion. Its quality is bad, its resolution substandard. As it accelerates, it deteriorates. It is a ghost of an image, a preview, a thumbnail, an errant idea, an itinerant image distributed for free, squeezed through slow digital connections, compressed, reproduced, ripped, remixed, as well as copied and pasted into other channels of distribution.’ I also introduce no hierarchy in my works. The poorest image might be a freeze-framed pixelated print out of a Tik Tok video - the richest, a 300 year old oil painting. I will hang both here. A cheap and indulgent piece of popular culture, greasy and glutinous steak and eggs, glamorous child pageant queens alongside a forgotten photograph of an unknown young wartime nurse, a nun, a saint. All humility and humbleness. I will hang both here. To me they are the same.

Sometimes you’ve got to trick an eye to go where you want it to. I use linear brutalist architecture in my paintings both from a love for them passed down from my architect father, an enjoyment in the way shadow and light behave on flat planes and right angles, and because of the authority they demand. I’m also interested in gender and the visual stereotypes we assign them, misguided or not. The costumes we put on. The buildings somehow represent the masculine to me, the landscapes demand a wide perspective and therefore dignified respect. I want to show you that the vapid, hyper-feminine, badly-behaved women I collect deserve the same respect. Visually I can trick you (sir) into taking me seriously, but suddenly - what’s that? in the bottom right corner… she’s got her tits out!

‘The poor image is no longer about the real thing—the originary original. Instead, it is about its own real conditions of existence: about swarm circulation, digital dispersion, fractured and flexible temporalities. It is about defiance and appropriation just as it is about conformism and exploitation.
In short: it is about reality.’    -   Steyerl, Hito. In Defence of the Poor Image. 2009. e-flux. (3)

1.The Specials. Hey Little Rich Girl. 2 Tone Records, Oct. 1980

2.The Specials. Too Much Too Young. 2 Tone Records, Jan. 1980

3.Steyerl, Hito. In Defence of the Poor Image. 2009. e-flux.






Stop fucking about. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop doing nothing when you should be doing something. Get busy living or get busy dying. Hey little rich girl, you’ve done too much - much too young (1). You’re married with a kid when you should be having fun with me! (2) Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.

My entire artistic practice is concerned with the image. After the camera, you can’t be a painter with only paint. To ignore the digital image, the ‘poor image’, the ‘Wretched of the Screen’, would be a big mistake. There are also jokes. I am a serious painter but will always play with what a painting really is. A painting with a photograph of an older painting glued onto another painting. A high resolution image exported, converted, zoomed in, printed, glued, and presented. ‘The poor image is a copy in motion. Its quality is bad, its resolution substandard. As it accelerates, it deteriorates. It is a ghost of an image, a preview, a thumbnail, an errant idea, an itinerant image distributed for free, squeezed through slow digital connections, compressed, reproduced, ripped, remixed, as well as copied and pasted into other channels of distribution.’ I also introduce no hierarchy in my works. The poorest image might be a freeze-framed pixelated print out of a Tik Tok video - the richest, a 300 year old oil painting. I will hang both here. A cheap and indulgent piece of popular culture, greasy and glutinous steak and eggs, glamorous child pageant queens alongside a forgotten photograph of an unknown young wartime nurse, a nun, a saint. All humility and humbleness. I will hang both here. To me they are the same.

Sometimes you’ve got to trick an eye to go where you want it to. I use linear brutalist architecture in my paintings both from a love for them passed down from my architect father, an enjoyment in the way shadow and light behave on flat planes and right angles, and because of the authority they demand. I’m also interested in gender and the visual stereotypes we assign them, misguided or not. The costumes we put on. The buildings somehow represent the masculine to me, the landscapes demand a wide perspective and therefore dignified respect. I want to show you that the vapid, hyper-feminine, badly-behaved women I collect deserve the same respect. Visually I can trick you (sir) into taking me seriously, but suddenly - what’s that? in the bottom right corner… she’s got her tits out!

‘The poor image is no longer about the real thing—the originary original. Instead, it is about its own real conditions of existence: about swarm circulation, digital dispersion, fractured and flexible temporalities. It is about defiance and appropriation just as it is about conformism and exploitation.

In short: it is about reality.’    -   Steyerl, Hito. In Defence of the Poor Image. 2009. e-flux. (3)

1.The Specials. Hey Little Rich Girl. 2 Tone Records, Oct. 1980

2.The Specials. Too Much Too Young. 2 Tone Records, Jan. 1980

3.Steyerl, Hito. In Defence of the Poor Image. 2009. e-flux.



It all seemed so perfect, it all seemed so fine, until it was not (Attempt 2）

Monday Blues.
Oh I think that’s true.
But it could happen any day of the week
and I don’t think I've ever woken up
feeling extremely ecstatic,
with no care in the world,
almost with a smile on my face.
I'd be lying to myself,
deluded almost,
to think that everything will be ok
if I wake up feeling like this.
No.
I don't think I could do that,
at least not now
when we’ve got another set of issues
coming our way.

It all seemed so perfect, it all seemed so fine, until it was not (7 works of epiphany) Soundtrack



It all seemed so perfect, it all seemed so fine, until it was not (Attempt 2）

It all seemed so perfect, it all seemed so fine, until it was not (7 works of epiphany) Soundtrack





‘I want to retire to some private island to be made a good boy’


I hunger not for personal salvation but for the feeling, the momentary illusion, or personal well-being, health and psychic security… everything but salvation! I guess I'm not haunted by guilt but by anxiety. I assume I have no interest in the future because, in part, I have so little interest in the past. What good does it bring me? Must I feel nostalgic then? Only if this nostalgia is a marketable commodity though. I hope to try and restore some primitive pact with pure feeling to regain the archaic calm without cultural sin that existed before, well, you know who. I hope I don’t drown in irony and cynicism on the way there, some nameless Eden.

‘I want to retire to some private island to be made a good boy’

I hunger not for personal salvation but for the feeling, the momentary illusion, or personal well-being, health and psychic security… everything but salvation! I guess I'm not haunted by guilt but by anxiety. I assume I have no interest in the future because, in part, I have so little interest in the past. What good does it bring me? Must I feel nostalgic then? Only if this nostalgia is a marketable commodity though. I hope to try and restore some primitive pact with pure feeling to regain the archaic calm without cultural sin that existed before, well, you know who. I hope I don’t drown in irony and cynicism on the way there, some nameless Eden.






Stillness expanded slowly

indulging patience perseverance

pulled down in time

lines drawn slow

and pencil as evidence of a hand

alighting on paper

remembered

as light as a memory of a time

time repeated

speaking in reflections

concentrated sharpness of shame and resistance

narrowed by the shadows of ordinary beauty

drawing as magic warding against careless judgements and harsh moralities

looking as listening

paper as thinking

light as remembering

as light as

marking time.



(the soundcloud player has a recording of a spoken word piece that was part of the exhibition on Mushroom Pie radio during the "a finger in every pie" exhibition)




concentrated sharpness of shame and resistance

narrowed by the shadows of ordinary beauty

drawing as magic warding against careless judgements and harsh moralities

(the soundcloud player has a recording of a spoken word piece that was part of the exhibition on Mushroom Pie radio during the "a finger in every pie" exhibition)




On a date with myself


For a long time I felt that I needed to find a ‘’practical’’ reason for my work to exist. I felt as if what I feel is not a good enough reason;                                                                                                and it was a beautiful realization when I remembered that I can be free.

It is hard to put it into words but all of a sudden, you have all the pieces of the puzzle and they just fit. Only by searching inwards, I managed to see that I was able to connect with other people.

My recent work shamelessly dives deep into one of the most introspective journeys I have ever partaken. It explores the different sides of ‘affection’ such as self-love, lost love, nurture and care.


3 week journal
(collaboration with Catelijne Boele)


Merging thoughts and feelings through talking, sharing space and time; we created a safe space for ourselves in an environment that is constantly changing and breaking. The work mirrors our discussions, feelings and shared events. Only one rule was set throughout the realization of the work: We have to simultaneously be working on the piece.

Whilst sharing the same space we saw our work growing around one another. Hence, our collaboration progressed into something concrete; exploring the concept of authorship and questioning what it means to think as one.




For a long time I felt that I needed to find a ‘’practical’’ reason for my work to exist. I felt as if what I feel is not a good enough reason;                                                                                                and it was a beautiful realization when I remembered that I can be free.

It is hard to put it into words but all of a sudden, you have all the pieces of the puzzle and they just fit. Only by searching inwards, I managed to see that I was able to connect with other people.

My recent work shamelessly dives deep into one of the most introspective journeys I have ever partaken. It explores the different sides of ‘affection’ such as self-love, lost love, nurture and care.

Merging thoughts and feelings through talking, sharing space and time; we created a safe space for ourselves in an environment that is constantly changing and breaking. The work mirrors our discussions, feelings and shared events. Only one rule was set throughout the realization of the work: We have to simultaneously be working on the piece.

Whilst sharing the same space we saw our work growing around one another. Hence, our collaboration progressed into something concrete; exploring the concept of authorship and questioning what it means to think as one.



                                                                                                                              Re-Attachment
                                                                                                                 
                                                                                                                      Andrea van Gelder


One of the most intriguing human struggles to me is human attachment, which is related to the early years of human life. It is an irreversible phase and has a fundamental impact on human development during the whole journey of life. The capability for humans to attach builds a solid, essential and existential foundation to develop a sense of self. Attachment difficulties disturbs the foundation and results into ambivalence and an ambiguous self.

My work represents a struggle with a “something” object that is clearly visible but not easily identifiable.

I am working with this object for three years now. The object was not made by me, it was on its way to the garbage. I felt a fascination for the shape, color and size. It had value and I felt resistance against destroying it. The object was used as a mold for a kidney and was meant for a hospital.

I was fascinated by this big white object. Crawling into it was an instant association which I did. Being inside the object I experienced a calming effect and the instant bond between the object and me was a fact.

The object became a part of my study and slowly a part of my life. It became a part of my housing habits. A sleeping space where I experience a déjà vu of my own early human development phase. Being inside the object provides me insight and at the same time a moment to cure my own complicated arrival as once announced as a still birth child.

With the work I hope to initiate an internal dialogue inside every viewer to connect and cure past struggles.




                                                                                                                              Re-Attachment

                                                                                                                      Andrea van Gelder

One of the most intriguing human struggles to me is human attachment, which is related to the early years of human life. It is an irreversible phase and has a fundamental impact on human development during the whole journey of life. The capability for humans to attach builds a solid, essential and existential foundation to develop a sense of self. Attachment difficulties disturbs the foundation and results into ambivalence and an ambiguous self.

My work represents a struggle with a “something” object that is clearly visible but not easily identifiable.

I am working with this object for three years now. The object was not made by me, it was on its way to the garbage. I felt a fascination for the shape, color and size. It had value and I felt resistance against destroying it. The object was used as a mold for a kidney and was meant for a hospital.

I was fascinated by this big white object. Crawling into it was an instant association which I did. Being inside the object I experienced a calming effect and the instant bond between the object and me was a fact.

The object became a part of my study and slowly a part of my life. It became a part of my housing habits. A sleeping space where I experience a déjà vu of my own early human development phase. Being inside the object provides me insight and at the same time a moment to cure my own complicated arrival as once announced as a still birth child.

With the work I hope to initiate an internal dialogue inside every viewer to connect and cure past struggles.




I wanted to say something but I forgot



Through dreams      ( past ) ( future )       and reflections         ( present )       I travel;


drawing a connection between text and textile, while inspired by the liquidity and endlessness of the sea, I explore what we do and don’t see. What it means to be closer and further away at the same time, ( touching and not touching ) and the ephemeral nature of reflections, movement and words.





3 week journal
(collaboration with Anca Bârjovanu)


Merging thoughts and feelings through talking, sharing space and time; we created a safe space for ourselves in an environment that is constantly changing and breaking. The work mirrors our discussions, feelings and shared events. Only one rule was set throughout the realization of the work: We have to simultaneously be working on the piece.
Whilst sharing the same space we saw our work growing around one another. Hence, our collaboration progressed into something concrete; exploring the concept of authorship and questioning what it means to think as one.





Through dreams      ( past ) ( future )       and reflections         ( present )       I travel;

drawing a connection between text and textile, while inspired by the liquidity and endlessness of the sea, I explore what we do and don’t see. What it means to be closer and further away at the same time, ( touching and not touching ) and the ephemeral nature of reflections, movement and words.




You will never have fresh eyes

Mark-making captivated my interest as it is an apprehension of both the conscious and subconscious expression, movement, and moment that will never come again.

For a process of an individual painting, I- an artist was a tool, like a brush. Paints used my hand on its way through the canvas. Though led by such subconsciousness, it was vital for me to stay sober when painting so that I can observe and learn from my subconscious side.

For the outcome and overall work, the role was reversed. I- an artist used my artworks as tools. The observations that I gained during each (subconscious) painting process trained the conscious side of my mind. The artistic manipulation hence lies in the process of juxtaposing and setup between the paintings that were previously made in a subconsciously saturated state.

The subconscious mind silenced the conscious mind during each painting whereas the conscious mind manipulated the subconscious mind after painting.

Therefore, the artist (the consciousness in this case) and artwork (the subconsciousness in this case) are using each other, learning from each other, and mirroring each other. But like the two mirrors facing one another, it is never-ending and never fully comprehensible. But you, as a viewer, always find yourself staring at your own glare when in between these two, don’t you?




Mark-making captivated my interest as it is an apprehension of both the conscious and subconscious expression, movement, and moment that will never come again.

For a process of an individual painting, I- an artist was a tool, like a brush. Paints used my hand on its way through the canvas. Though led by such subconsciousness, it was vital for me to stay sober when painting so that I can observe and learn from my subconscious side.

For the outcome and overall work, the role was reversed. I- an artist used my artworks as tools. The observations that I gained during each (subconscious) painting process trained the conscious side of my mind. The artistic manipulation hence lies in the process of juxtaposing and setup between the paintings that were previously made in a subconsciously saturated state.

The subconscious mind silenced the conscious mind during each painting whereas the conscious mind manipulated the subconscious mind after painting.

Therefore, the artist (the consciousness in this case) and artwork (the subconsciousness in this case) are using each other, learning from each other, and mirroring each other. But like the two mirrors facing one another, it is never-ending and never fully comprehensible. But you, as a viewer, always find yourself staring at your own glare when in between these two, don’t you?






In most manga, a lot of illustration is used to express effects or explosive speeds that we cannot actually see. They exist as air around them, not as protagonists.

I am interested in this atmospheric background world of manga and web. Although manga primarily communicates through language and figuration, I isolate the numerous dots, geometric shapes, and lines that are used to express invisible moments within the limited conditions of flat and black/white.

The numerous manga effect images that I have collected were recombined in my own way and painted on three columns in the space. I was curious to see how it could work in space by putting drawings that were always trapped in small paper or screens into the physical world and placing them on square columns instead of flat surfaces.

In most manga, a lot of illustration is used to express effects or explosive speeds that we cannot actually see. They exist as air around them, not as protagonists.

I am interested in this atmospheric background world of manga and web. Although manga primarily communicates through language and figuration, I isolate the numerous dots, geometric shapes, and lines that are used to express invisible moments within the limited conditions of flat and black/white.

The numerous manga effect images that I have collected were recombined in my own way and painted on three columns in the space. I was curious to see how it could work in space by putting drawings that were always trapped in small paper or screens into the physical world and placing them on square columns instead of flat surfaces.




“L————nes”

The reality strips down to colours and lines. They mean nothing on their own; their meaning only emerges in and through painting’s materiality. They become the creators of their realms and are trying to write down the story using coherent alphabet. The lines are more about what is absent than what is present. About the weight that the emptiness carries and about the lightness it has within. An ambiguity within the painting itself.

The reality strips down to colours and lines. They mean nothing on their own; their meaning only emerges in and through painting’s materiality. They become the creators of their realms and are trying to write down the story using coherent alphabet. The lines are more about what is absent than what is present. About the weight that the emptiness carries and about the lightness it has within. An ambiguity within the painting itself.




“The year I became a tree”

My exhibition consists of four drawings and a poem, whose title “The Year I Became a Tree” is also the exhibition title. The works are autobiographical in nature, revolving around the metaphor of plant-life. As I describe in the poem, when I got my burnout, it felt like becoming a tree: no more movement, no more voice, something long stored away bursting out and overgrowing me.

Two drawings are self-portraits, while the other two include other figures besides me. Both of these are direct quotations from art history: Da Vinci’s angel from Vergine delle rocce towers over me in the largest piece, while the other drawing shows a scene from Botticelli’s Primavera, in which the wind god Zephyrus chases the nymph Chloris in order to make her his. When she screamed, from her mouth only came flowers.

Like Chloris, and her more famous counterpart Daphne, I turned into a tree because I became exhausted of dancing the dance with looks and gazes and touches, with the words and the histories of how a woman’s body should or shouldn’t be. My images and poetry are feminist in nature, but they are mostly about the autobiographical space of exhaustion that comes with holding that disposition in our world. In the art we celebrate. In our school.

My feminism, it seems, became anger, which became exhaustion, which became puking up leaves instead of words, but those leaves were also new roots for me to ground through. Connected in my disconnection, to both my own body and those girls that turned into trees before me. This is the particular feeling I sought to capture.





My exhibition consists of four drawings and a poem, whose title “The Year I Became a Tree” is also the exhibition title. The works are autobiographical in nature, revolving around the metaphor of plant-life. As I describe in the poem, when I got my burnout, it felt like becoming a tree: no more movement, no more voice, something long stored away bursting out and overgrowing me.

Two drawings are self-portraits, while the other two include other figures besides me. Both of these are direct quotations from art history: Da Vinci’s angel from Vergine delle rocce towers over me in the largest piece, while the other drawing shows a scene from Botticelli’s Primavera, in which the wind god Zephyrus chases the nymph Chloris in order to make her his. When she screamed, from her mouth only came flowers.

Like Chloris, and her more famous counterpart Daphne, I turned into a tree because I became exhausted of dancing the dance with looks and gazes and touches, with the words and the histories of how a woman’s body should or shouldn’t be. My images and poetry are feminist in nature, but they are mostly about the autobiographical space of exhaustion that comes with holding that disposition in our world. In the art we celebrate. In our school.

My feminism, it seems, became anger, which became exhaustion, which became puking up leaves instead of words, but those leaves were also new roots for me to ground through. Connected in my disconnection, to both my own body and those girls that turned into trees before me. This is the particular feeling I sought to capture.




Mom and Dad Kiss and Angry Little Girl

I have decided to revisit some memories.
My mom sent me some pictures of old drawings of mine. We laugh as we see ourselves in them. I laugh with the humor and innocence of the drawings, I smile as I remember making them. I am at a loss for preferring them to my current work. The truth is that I envy these drawings, more so, childhood. At times I get lost in my work and long for thoughtless acting. Realizing that, although, our consciousness is our greatest power; it comes to a disadvantage at times. Distorting truth, intentions, opinions and thoughts - they are analyzed only to be changed. For that I turn back the clock, and for this exhibition I am focusing on two drawings, both of which reflect my childhood home. One is happy and idyllic, the other clearly fuelled by a moment of anger. Both, however, share humor and honesty, traits that I wish to reinhabit and reapply to my current and future work.

The drawings have been projected on canvas and then painted, following the lines of my childhood hand, then to become an exaggeration of themselves; blown up with a bubble-gum color palette, like toys hanging on the wall.


”Angry Little Girl” (2020)
Acrylic paint and acrylic inc on canvas, ply wood frame
110x140cm

”Mom and Dad Kiss” (2020)
Acrylic paint and acrylic inc on canvas, 1.8mm MDF wood frame
105x160cm

My mom sent me some pictures of old drawings of mine. We laugh as we see ourselves in them. I laugh with the humor and innocence of the drawings, I smile as I remember making them. I am at a loss for preferring them to my current work. The truth is that I envy these drawings, more so, childhood. At times I get lost in my work and long for thoughtless acting. Realizing that, although, our consciousness is our greatest power; it comes to a disadvantage at times. Distorting truth, intentions, opinions and thoughts - they are analyzed only to be changed. For that I turn back the clock, and for this exhibition I am focusing on two drawings, both of which reflect my childhood home. One is happy and idyllic, the other clearly fuelled by a moment of anger. Both, however, share humor and honesty, traits that I wish to reinhabit and reapply to my current and future work.

The drawings have been projected on canvas and then painted, following the lines of my childhood hand, then to become an exaggeration of themselves; blown up with a bubble-gum color palette, like toys hanging on the wall.

Acrylic paint and acrylic inc on canvas, ply wood frame

Acrylic paint and acrylic inc on canvas, 1.8mm MDF wood frame




Speaking in Gunk
A stain left by some passer by, a blob of paint, a scratch left to signal presence, when do these different marks stop being meaningless and start to constitute information? How do you place yourself in the chaos of time? What is valuable information and what is a discarded remnant? When does a simple trace of existence or an accidental trace transition into something culturally or historically important?
This installation explores layers of marks made by different entities, or imaginary entities, forming a diagram of the archaeology of my own life and the world at large.
They equate my life with a transhistorical visual language to simultaneously place myself inside and outside of history and my own time. The uncovered artifacts of a constructed alternate history where made up mysterious pasts and my silly existence live side by side.
Speculative excavations and collections form a timeline of what might have been and still might be. Monolithic testaments to not knowing poured onto the old familiar rectangle.
Primal traces of presence, some seemingly holding indecipherable forgotten knowledge, some being discarded pieces of nonsense, placed in a non hierarchical mass of paint, collected and ritualistically displayed with a primal urgency.
The walls of paint, emulating cave walls, computer screens and everything in between, full of dirt as well as gems, are obsessively trying to be nothing and everything at once.




A stain left by some passer by, a blob of paint, a scratch left to signal presence, when do these different marks stop being meaningless and start to constitute information? How do you place yourself in the chaos of time? What is valuable information and what is a discarded remnant? When does a simple trace of existence or an accidental trace transition into something culturally or historically important?

This installation explores layers of marks made by different entities, or imaginary entities, forming a diagram of the archaeology of my own life and the world at large.

They equate my life with a transhistorical visual language to simultaneously place myself inside and outside of history and my own time. The uncovered artifacts of a constructed alternate history where made up mysterious pasts and my silly existence live side by side.

Speculative excavations and collections form a timeline of what might have been and still might be. Monolithic testaments to not knowing poured onto the old familiar rectangle.

Primal traces of presence, some seemingly holding indecipherable forgotten knowledge, some being discarded pieces of nonsense, placed in a non hierarchical mass of paint, collected and ritualistically displayed with a primal urgency.

The walls of paint, emulating cave walls, computer screens and everything in between, full of dirt as well as gems, are obsessively trying to be nothing and everything at once.



Michel Heen (1982)
A little bit of truth here, a little bit of truth there …
Installation with sound (2020)


Table, chairs, a full ashtray and the intruding voice of two men asking questions transports the viewer into an installation with a cinematographic and theatrical connotation. The installation is situated in a basement on -2 inside a storage cage.
By walking around or sitting on one of the chairs near the table the installation unfolds in a distorted scene with a double take, reflecting upon collective memories and social- and power structures.
Michel Heen worked as a (forensic) investigator for a long time. His art practice is characterized by a sculptural approach combined with a forensic view. Frequently his work takes banal and tragicomical elements. In his work you can regularly find small details that only will be observed by a viewer with a sharp eye, the eye of an investigator.

A little bit of truth here, a little bit of truth there …

Table, chairs, a full ashtray and the intruding voice of two men asking questions transports the viewer into an installation with a cinematographic and theatrical connotation. The installation is situated in a basement on -2 inside a storage cage.

By walking around or sitting on one of the chairs near the table the installation unfolds in a distorted scene with a double take, reflecting upon collective memories and social- and power structures.

Michel Heen worked as a (forensic) investigator for a long time. His art practice is characterized by a sculptural approach combined with a forensic view. Frequently his work takes banal and tragicomical elements. In his work you can regularly find small details that only will be observed by a viewer with a sharp eye, the eye of an investigator.



You must have licked it as a child

The story of I. is both a play on words as it is a play on reality. It is an attempt to present a protagonist who has stepped out of existing structures, orders and definitions. She chose to live in a constant stage of metamorphosis, occupied by the demands of her body and the surrounding environment which remains limited to what is referred to as ‘a room of her own.’ She listens, observes, at times glancing back into the past which to her is no longer in the past as all she knows is the present moment. She lives within me as much as I live within her. Perhaps you will find a piece of her within you too.

For a more comfortable reading of the work a small meaning guide is provided:

Fishing – being up to something; daydreaming; planning.

Dirt – soil; dust; residue of thought.

Fishes – friends; companions; partners; active listeners.

Birds – sins, critters that know all and are always watching.

Work – making bread; making something that nourishes the Other.

Feel free to follow or just make your own meanings.

To read the full biography:
http://natalianikoniuk.kabkfinearts.nl/index.php/i-biography/ 




The story of I. is both a play on words as it is a play on reality. It is an attempt to present a protagonist who has stepped out of existing structures, orders and definitions. She chose to live in a constant stage of metamorphosis, occupied by the demands of her body and the surrounding environment which remains limited to what is referred to as ‘a room of her own.’ She listens, observes, at times glancing back into the past which to her is no longer in the past as all she knows is the present moment. She lives within me as much as I live within her. Perhaps you will find a piece of her within you too.

For a more comfortable reading of the work a small meaning guide is provided:

Fishing – being up to something; daydreaming; planning.

Fishes – friends; companions; partners; active listeners.