the scene changes to an empty room
DESCRIPTION
'The Scene Changes to an Empty Room' is a publication about the exhibition, titled the same, held at De Fabriek in Eindhoven. (www.defabreikeindhoven.nl) A Dialogue in Space, Laurie Cluitmans Wijnand de Jonge With: Wijnand de Jonge Andreas Blank Antonia Carrara Job Koelewijn Claire Makhlouf Carter Katrina PalmerTRANSCRIPT
With: Andreas BlankAntonia CarraraWijnand de JongeJob KoelewijnClaire Makhlouf CarterKatrina Palmer
Laurie Cluitmans Monday, 2 July 2012, 18:19To: Wijnand de JongeThe scene changes to an empty room? Sent message
Dear Wijnand,
Hopefully this email finds you well. How is London?
It was nice finally, although briefly, meeting over Skype and I am looking for-ward to starting our collaboration at De Fabriek.
It will be a challenge, I think, to follow up on De Fabriek’s invitation. It feels a bit like a professional blind date. Yet at the same time it is an instruction for us (to en)act, perform, respond. It reminded me of the instruction works of the sixties and seventies: Bruce Nauman ordering himself to walk around in the studio in an exaggerated manner; Yoko Ono instructing to paint; John Cage enforcing a ‘silence’ composition. Consisting of simply written (or dictated) texts, outlining a set of conditions for the artist himself or someone else to follow, these instruction pieces realized the art object in its textual form. Sometimes leading to fabricated objects, executed performance, some-times just a text. What intrigues me, however, is that the instruction here is not just a tool for something else. It does not just dissolve the moment the instruction is enacted. Rather, it is an instigator for potential moments to fol-low.
If De Fabriek’s invitation is an instruction and blind date, it might be consid-ered as one of Absolute Zero. Perhaps like a tabula rasa, a clean slate from which to start anew. So, before anything, the scene changes to an empty room. But as with each clean slate, (and as modernism’s legacy has proven) it is never really clean, it is never really empty, it is never just a monochrome. References, histories (however small), or memories step in.
Well, I’m looking forward to starting or actually continuing our dialogue and to inviting other artists to join us at De Fabriek.
Warmest from Istanbul,
Laurie.
Wijnand de Jonge Tuesday, 27 November 2012, 23:11To: Laurie CluitmansRe:Re:Re:The scene changes to an empty room? Sent message
Dear Laurie,
It was great seeing you at De Fabriek this morning. I am writing this email in the basement, in order to briefly escape the pressing matters of the exhi-bition space! And yes - it is very cold here too! However it gives me some time to reflect. You were right when you wrote that the premise of the show, and its title The Scene Changes to an Empty Room, arose from our starting point when we embarked on the project as perfect strangers, grappling with a gigantic blank canvas. The more time I spend in this place, the more I real-ize the assumption that this building would ever function as an empty shell was unfounded. Like many buildings, it is informed by its own history. Traces of art projects, politics, and parties fill this seemingly empty space, and as for us, we never started this project from neutral standpoints.
At this point in time, however, the title of the exhibition relates well to the transitional stage of the exhibition, where the past slowly moves into the present. Even though things might look somewhat fragmented at the mo-ment, I am sure everything will fall into place. Beforehand, I had hoped that the show would oscillate between precision and experimentation, and it looks like this may well happen.
Here are some points that we should organize before the weekend:1. Get a quote for the rental monitor (Paul will collect by car)2. Make a hotel booking for Claire, Katrina and Rachel (for the 8th of Decem-ber)3. Send invites for the dinner party
There is probably more to discuss, but I will call you tomorrow and see you on Monday.
Best,W.
ForewordOn the 8th of December 2012, the group exhibition The Scene Changes to an Empty Room opened in De Fabriek, Eindhoven
with a presentation by Claire Makhlouf Carter, a reading by Katrina Palmer and an exhibition of work by Andreas Blank,
Antonia Carrara, Wijnand de Jonge and Job Koelewijn.
For more than thirty years, De Fabriek
has provided residency opportunities
for artists. It is a space run by artists
for artists, an ethos that underpins all
its activities. As a democratic and non-
hierarchical organization, De Fabriek
offers artists a place to retreat from
their usual surroundings and take on
the challenge of creating and exhibiting
their work in its monumental, industrial
space. Within the context of this history
and practice, The Scene Changes to
an Empty Room was a rather unusual
experiment. The premise of the
show was based on the concept of a
professional ‘blind date’ that took place
between the two of us: artist Wijnand
de Jonge and curator Laurie Cluitmans.
Previously unknown to one another, on
invitation by De Fabriek, we engaged
in an ongoing dialogue that took place
over several months, culminating in
a residency and exhibition. We both
invited other artists to participate in
the show, including: Andreas Blank,
Antonia Carrara, Job Koelewijn, Claire
Makhlouf Carter and Katrina Palmer.
We would like to thank De Fabriek for
their invitation. In particular, we would
like to thank Koen Dijkman for initiating
this project and for his continuous
support throughout the exhibition
period.
A special thanks to Paul Verwilligen,
‘Paultje’, for his unremitting technical
support and energy. Furthermore,
we would like to thank Gemeente
Eindhoven and Provincie Noord Brabant
for their generous financial support.
Last but not least, we would like to
thank the artists; Andreas Blank, Antonia Carrara, Job Koelewijn, Claire Makhlouf Carter and Katrina Palmer for their participation.
Laurie Cluitmans & Wijnand de Jonge
Intr
od
uct
ion
The Scene Changes to an Empty Room‘Nothing is more real than nothing.’ Samual Beckett, Malone Dies
‘Empty’:Old English æmtig, æmetig
‘at leisure, empty’, from æmetta ‘leisure’,
perhaps from a ‘no, not’ + mot ‘meeting’1
When contemplating emptiness, one is
led to consider the related concepts of
absence, nothingness, ephemerality,
silence, destruction and negation.
In the past century, emptiness in
art has manifested itself in different
disguises, from the modernist myth
of a ‘zero point’ associated with the
desire for transcendence and purity, to
1 Oxford dictionary http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/empty?q=empty
institutional critique.
In 2009, the Kunsthalle Bern organized
a retrospective of voids ‘displaying’ nine
historical and contemporary exhibitions
that each left the exhibition space
austerely empty.
In his search for the physical
limitations of the art object, Robert
Barry presented one of the first empty
exhibitions - Some places to which we can come, and for a while “be free to think about what we are going to do (Marcuse)” 1970 - in which, according
to Kunsthalle Bern, Barry pointed
out that ‘the substance of the work
is situated as much in the mind of
those who contemplate it as it is in the
empty space.’2 Art & Language, in a
similar vein, with their Air Conditioning
Show (1966-67) (what did this show
consist of?) revealed art’s deeply
rooted connection to its discursive and
institutional context. More recently,
Roman Ondak (2006) left the exhibition
2 Curated by Laurent Le Bon, John Armleder, Mathieu Copeland, Gustav Metzger, Mai-Thu Perret, and Clive Phillpot, and featuring Yves Klein, Robert Barry, Art & Language, Stanley Brouwn, Laurie Parsons, Bethan Huws, Robert Irwin, Maria Eichhorn, Roman Ondak.
space empty, hinting at contemporary
art’s ‘make believe’ as one would point
to the emperor’s new clothes as simply
not being there.
Laurie Cluitm
ans
Imagine walking through an entirely
abandoned museum: with each and
every space deserted, with only white
walls, windows, perhaps a radiator,
and a small wall plaque referring to the
historical void the space represents.
An empty museum, serving to remind
us of what it was that once ‘filled’
it. The plaques and labels make the
invisible present, turning the void
both into the object and its subject.
By refusing the visible, and focusing
instead on acts of disappearance and
de-materialization, the Kunsthalle Bern
displayed a history of artistic breaches.
It reflected on existing conventions
of reality and perception, the art
institution and the art historical context,
in order to contemplate its own status.
In its accumulation, the 'nothingness'
represented in Bern presents a
paradox. In a similar vein, can
the monochrome ever really be a
monochrome, given the canvas’s
innate physicality and textured grain?
Likewise, John Cage’s 4’33’’ was
never really a score of silence, but
rather one revealing the composition
of everyday sounds. As Susan Sontag
once eloquently wrote: As long as the
human eye is looking there is always
something to see. To look at something
that’s “empty” is still to be looking,
still to be seeing something – if only
the ghosts of one’s own expectations.
In order to perceive fullness, one must
retain an acute sense of the emptiness,
which marks it off; conversely, in order
to perceive emptiness, one must
apprehend other zones of the world as
full.3
Despite the impossibility of literal
silence and emptiness, the desire for
a break with the visible and a tendency
towards minimalism was, and still is,
a central theme in Art which has been
referenced throughout the 20th century
on up to the present (as shown so
clearly in the exhibition in Kunsthalle
Bern). Perhaps it has become even
more pertinent now, as we are
constantly flooded with imagery in the
3 Susan Sontag, The Aesthetics of Silenc, in Studies of Radical Will, chapter 1. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1969; Anchor Books, 1981; Picador USA, 2002.
digital, globalized world.
One could even state that the desire to
create a tabula rasa, from which a new
chapter can be written, is inherently
part of the contemporary human
condition.
Laurie Cluitm
ans
In our image-saturated society, we
have been taught to read these images
quickly, to connect the dots and read
their patterns in order to make sense
of them. Like with ‘pareidolia’, in which
illusions, misperceptions even, and
vague (or obscure) stimuli are perceived
as something clear and distinct – we
have been taught to read patterns
quickly with only hints of images. The
most famous examples of pareidolia
would be perceiving a rabbit or a face on
the surface of the moon, or armies in
clouds and the Virgin Mary in a piece of
toast. The shapes, lines and shadows
connect to our interests, to the familiar,
and to our desires and obsessions
to create visual illusions. Perhaps
with a breach of the visual (rephrase/
repetition), these patterns can be
broken and new things can be seen.
The gap, breach or pause does
not simply have to lead to the
nonrepresentative. The desire or quest
for this breach does not necessarily
have to lead to nihilism.
Rather, it could offer the possibility of a
renewed sensitivity towards the visual,
reactivating the perception of reality and
creating a different kind of awareness
of things and phenomena that are not
visible at first sight.
If we aim to talk about emptiness, the
scene does not have to be empty.
In this exhibition it is not a literal
silence, nor a literal emptiness or a
literal nothingness, that is at its core.
Through a presentation, a reading,
and video and sculptural installations.
Each work in the show subtly explores
these notions in different ways, whether
directly or indirectly dealing with these
notions of emptying out, seeing/reading
a new and projecting upon an empty
screen. Whether through sculptural
attempts to convey or consolidate our
expectations of an object, or through
more ephemeral performances that try
to grasp the art object through words,
the works in the exhibition are ‘props’ in
their new scene.
As the title of the exhibition suggests,
the objects act like props on a stage,
awaiting a different kind of discourse to
unfold.
-Laurie Cluitmans, 2013
Laurie Cluitm
ans
Art
ists
De Jonge presents an installation
composed of several elements that
all relate to his expanding ‘archive’
based around the mythological figure
of the Janus – the ancient Roman God
of beginnings and endings, gateways
and openings and closings, who, with
his two faces, was believed to see into
the past and the future at once. In De
Jonge’s work, the Janus has become a
metaphor for his concept of the archive
as a constantly evolving entity and point
of contingency between the past and
future. His work has involved research
into an exponential catalogue of existing
Janus artefacts and items that have
undergone a process of re-imagining in
the production of an eclectic series of
sculptural works. Renato Bertelli’s 1933
sculpture, Head of Mussolini, has been
an object of particular interest, itself
inspired by the Janus and interesting in
terms of its changing status from item of
fascist memorabilia around the time of its
creation, to its current status as iconic
Futurist artwork.
Installed centrally in the exhibition was
a rectangular, glass encased plinth (the
base covered in a grey transportation
blanket) that displayed several items;
an Italian newspaper reporting the
death of Mussolini, a paper file, and a
circular plaster mould for R.A Bertelli’s
1933 sculpture Head of Mussolini. The
juxtaposition of a beginning (the mould
as the starting point for a sculpture) and
an ending (the death of Mussolini), within
the same frame, throws up a complex set
of questions associated with the unstable
status of art objects held within archives.
The transitory, ephemeral nature of
the replication, display and storage of
artworks is further emphasized in another
grouping of elements to one side of
the space. Two cast, blackened, shiny,
circular plaster replicas of the Head
of Mussolini sculpture are displayed
within two plastic domestic storage tubs
positioned on the floor. These items are
framed by a wall of wallpaper. The faded
pink, screenprinted wallpaper design
consists of what is reminiscent of a
decorative 18th-century wreath design
that is interspersed with hand drawn
images of different depictions of the
Janus. Within De Fabriek, the wall paper
is at odds with the industrial setting,
and juxtaposes it with a more refined,
domestic environment. By focusing on
the fabric of the building in this way, the
wallpaper also highlights the temporality
of the artists who pass through the
building, making their mark for a short
time, only for it to inevitably be covered
up and painted over to make way for new
residents.
In this dense and multi-layered work,
de Jonge deconstructs the conceptual
and physical aspects involved in
the production, storage, exhibition
and interpretation of artworks within
museums and archives.
Wijn
and
De
Jon
ge
At first glance, Andreas Blank’s desk
appears to be like any ordinary desk.
On top, some paraphernalia are neatly
displayed; a half-full cup, a box and a
documentation folder. The desk could
be found in any artist’s studio or any
work space, for that matter. However,
upon closer inspection each element
(including the trestle table itself) can
be seen to have been meticulously
hand carved from a variety of precious
stones sourced from quarries from all
over the world. In this way, the work
relates to the history of stone carving
within art history and sculpture where
materials such as marble, alabaster
and limestone were traditionally used
to sculpt objects of political or religious
significance. In Blank’s work, however,
it is the mundane, everyday objects
which gain this monumental status,
through being rendered by this same,
traditional process.
In his work, Blank plays tricks with
our expectations and perceptions. For
example, what at first appears to be
a crumpled A4 white sheet of paper
in a black frame hanging modestly on
one wall of the exhibition, is actually
made from carved white marble (the
paper) and black alabaster (the frame).
From a distance, this work could be
viewed as a pun on modernist nihilism,
but up close, it reveals a material
sensibility that goes beyond a simple
juxtaposition of abstraction and reality.
An
dre
as B
lan
k
The four structures by Antonia
Carrara, although different in size
and composition, have several
characteristics in common. Referring
to, or abstracted from, library ladders,
they each have turned into display
structures or screens. As the library
ladder would ordinarily rest against
the bookshelves, waiting for that one
story to be picked up from the long
forgotten top shelf, the structures
encourage a more abstract reading.
As displays or screens, they wait for
images to appear in one’s imagination.
The wood pattern for example – in
which one might read and recognize
patterns, symbols, faces, and natural
hallucinations – is enhanced by the
photocopied print, simultaneously
presenting the sculpture’s material
and its reproduction. Several copies of
an eighties photo romance magazine
– shot like film stills and flattened
out, they tell stories of love and petty
drama – inject possible narratives and
emotions.
In their new setting, however, we can
no longer browse their pages. On a
largely empty screen, in one corner, a
projection of a small booklet, almost
transparent, is seen, its pages at fixed
intervals turn slowly. Each page is
blank. We read everything and nothing.
An
ton
ia C
arra
ra
For some time, Dutch artist Koelewijn
would take a small break from visual
reality. By secluding himself in an
empty and dark room, or by simply
blindfolding himself in his studio, he
would engage in what he called 'visual
fasting'. While pursuing a clean and
empty state of mind, he would try to
block out all images imposing on his
mind, in order to become receptive
again and to see the world afresh. The
short video Jump can be read from this
perspective. From what appears to be
a deep hole in the ground, we see a
man – the artist himself – jumping up
and down. Sometimes he succeeds
in jumping as high as to briefly peak
over the edges of the hole. At first, this
attempt appears humorous. However,
as the artist continues and becomes
more and more visibly exhausted, the
emphasis turns towards the sincerity
of this effort. In not giving up, he tries
to reach his goal, however purposeless
and absurd it might seem.
Jo
b K
oel
ewijn
Contrasting the physicality of the
works of Andreas Blank, Wijnand de
Jonge and Antonia Carrara, Claire
Makhlouf Carter and Katrina Palmer
present a different kind of search for
the sculptural object and its possible
meaning. Claire Makhlouf Carter’s
work, DEMO DE FABRIEK departs from the
format of the artist talk and lecture.
Through a carefully scripted lecture,
a situation is created in which the
audience is never really sure where the
line between fact and fiction lies.
DEMO DE FABRIEK is delivered by a
presenter, Rachel Cockburn, who
addresses the audience in a direct,
matter of fact tone. As she delivers
her lecture, Rachel announces Claire’s
absence, and speaks from her own
perspective as a temporary worker
while referring to the artist who had
issued her with precise instructions.
Amongst other topics, Rachel talks
about, ‘self-immolation’ and ‘the
smell of fear’. Throughout the event,
an unsettling atmosphere is created
in which the audience experiences
a growing sense of unease that
continues long after the lecture
itself has finished. By focusing on
performative side effects, such as
labour relations, sensory stimuli
and nerves of both the presenter
and the audience coming into play,
Carter highlights those aspects of
performance that problematize the
complacency of shared experience and
the document.
Cla
ire
Mak
hlo
uf
Car
ter
Imagine a school for sculpture, not just
your average school, rather one with
the explicit instruction to not produce
any objects or physical works, a school
with only one student. This is the
scenario of Katrina Palmer’s book The Dark Object. As the rector of the school has it:
‘Words combine and produce volume
you know, growing into some grossly
uncontrollable excess of textual
representation, … obscene.’
In her artistic practice, Palmer turned
away from the actual physical object,
towards locating the sculptural object
in fictional narratives and live readings.
For De Fabriek, Palmer gave a reading
of 'Under the Desk'. As often occurs
in her stories, (artist) protagonists
negotiate the physical, imaginary and
sexual dynamics of fictional spaces,
juxtaposing the conceptual, discursive
with the object. Palmer narrates a
dialogue between two characters.
Struggling to communicate with one
another, they have a conversation that
ranges from the absurd to the painful.
Kat
rin
a Pa
lmer
Laurie Cluitmans is an art historian and curator based in Amsterdam.
After studying Art History and Communication Studies at the University of Amsterdam, she
became gallery director at Galerie Fons Welters.
In addition she regularly writes for art-magazines such as MetropolisM.
Together with Arnisa Zeqo she won the Young Curator’s Grant of De Hallen Haarlem for
which they curated the group exhibition: He Disappeared into Complete Silence: Rereading
a Single Artwork by Louise Bourgeois in 2011. Since then they have regularly collaborated
on exhibitions, such as for the Autonomy Project. In 2012 Cluitmans and Zeqo completed a
research residency in Istanbul, titled The Creation of Alphabets and the Politics of the Self.
Laurie Cluitm
ans W
ijnand de Jonge
Wijnand de Jonge is a Dutch artist who lives and works in London. He graduated from the
Royal College of Art with an MPhil by project in 2011. He undertook, between 2001-2003,
a two year residency at de Ateliers in Amsterdam. He regularly exhibits his work both in
London and internationally.
His art practice is underpinned by a re-imagining of existing archival systems in relation
to the art object. The conceptual framework for his practice is based on retracing the
trajectories of existing items that derive from a wide range of public collections, such
as; archives, museums and storage depots. The concept of the archive is also explored
in terms of the physical structures of cataloguing, display and storage that uphold the
narrative constructs of the museum. Vitrines, plinths, wall plaques and storage crates all
figure in his work, and are reconstructed with subtle transgressions.
Text
Laurie Cluitmans, Wijnand de Jonge
English editing
Sally Reynolds, Lilly Chamberlain
Photograpy
Peter Cox, Koen Dijkman, Laurie Cluitmans
Design
Bureau KD
Special thanks to
De Fabriek, Koen Dijkman, Paul Verwillige,
Ilse Pasman, Sally Reynolds, Lilly Chamberlain,
Grafisch Atelier Daglicht, Wendela de Jonge,
Klazien de Vries, Steven ten Thije and Swinkels
glas Eindhoven.
The Exhibition and publication made possible by
Gemeente Eindhoven and Provincie Noord-Brabant.
Ack
no
wle
dge
men
ts
Baarstraat 38
5615 RS, Eindhoven
www.defabriekeindhoven.nl
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