27 july 2022, Oscar van Gelderen
The studio of... Guy Vording
What does the ideal studio look like? How much time does an artist spend in his studio? Is it a sacred place? In the series 'The studio' this week: Guy Vording, whose work can be seen until 27 August in the group show 'Let it Blossom III & Summer Fruits' at gallery dudokdegroot.
Do you visit your studio every day?
On average, I am in my studio five to six days a week. This varies per period: when I am working towards an exhibition, I am there a lot, sometimes every day, but after a busy period with many exhibitions I am there less often. The work is then completed, and out of my studio. Those days I always walk around feeling lost, but I have learned in recent years that these periods are just as important as the days something does get out of your hands.
What time do you leave for your studio, and how: on foot, by bicycle, public transport or car?
I'm not a morning person, never have been, so I like to start my mornings slow and then don't hit the streets immediately. Around eleven o'clock I get on my bike and ten minutes later I am in my studio, in the middle of De Pijp in Amsterdam.
Do you hold on to certain rituals in your studio? Music or silence?
The moment I enter my studio, I first make coffee and clean up. I look at what I've done the day before and then get to work pretty quickly. The work takes place in two phases: during the first phase I search for my material, read and study it. Old newspaper and magazine clippings form the basis of my work, so I read them word for word and always do so in silence. In the second phase I have made the big choices and I start to 'build up' my work, which is much more intuitive. Then there is usually music or a podcast on, but always in the background and not overpowering. Most of the time I don't even hear it.
At the end of the day, I take pictures of the work I did that day so that I can prepare at home for the next day. Then I clean up again. This is a ritual that has crept in to maintain as much order and structure as possible in the studio.
How important is light to you?
From my graduation in 2013 to date, I have had seven studios. In the beginning I rented spaces as a property guardian, and ended up in some of the most beautiful and some of the ugliest buildings in Amsterdam. Sometimes a few weeks, sometimes a few years. One studio had a glass ceiling through which sunlight shone all day long, while another had no windows at all, it was practically a cave. Having or not having daylight has had no influence on my work, nor on my way of working. It did have an impact on my mind, that's why I like a small window to the outside and the world doesn't rush at me very hard when I go outside again.
In every studio I have had so far, I ensure there is fluorescent lighting and that there is a proper lamp on my worktable, that is enough for me to be able to work well.
What does your work process look like? Do you work everywhere and all the time or does work only commence the moment you enter your studio?
The work always goes on. When I close the studio door behind me, my mind is still on work. This is a mental issue. At home I'm scouring the internet for new material. The search for material and new ideas is always ongoing and very pleasant, but it can also wear you down at times. It's not a button one turns on and off. I once heard another artist say that in this profession you never have to work, but you also never have a vacation. I believe that is correct.
How much time do you spend on average per day in your studio?
I used to work long hours in my studio and work until the middle of the night. I had convinced myself that I had to, but I have discovered that it is not good for work at all. On a regular day I work an average of six hours a day in my studio. At the moment my working days are longer as I'm working towards my exhibition in October at dudokdegroot and the Art On Paper fair in Brussels.
Is the studio a sacred place?
Sacred sounds too religious to me, but it comes close. It is above all a safe place. It is a space that I protect well and that is mine and mine alone. I've never been inclined to share a studio with anyone because I need the seclusion. If you have been renting as a property guardian for years, having to pack to your belongings at any time will be in the back of your mind; that causes too much unrest and is not good for the work, that takes away that safety for me. Now, I have had a studio for four years now, with the guarantee that I can stay there for years, which ensures that I am also better settled there. No unrest.
Do you receive visits there, collectors, curators or fellow artists?
Yes, but not all the time. If I am working towards an exhibition opening in a few weeks’ time, no one enters. I then find it hard to tolerate this outside influence and I interpret every look and every comment negatively. Then uncertainty sets in, which is disastrous. This also has to do with protecting that safe space. In the normal periods, however, I do receive people. Some collectors with whom I've built up a relationship sometimes visit to see what I'm currently working on and artist friends sometimes stop by for a chat and vice versa. Of course, Jedithja and Nicole from the gallery also visit every now and then.
What is the most beautiful studio you have ever seen?
"Beautiful" is not the right word, but the first thing that comes to mind is Francis Bacon's studio. I really like a certain order and structure and his studio was the complete opposite of that. When I see photos of that studio, I'm still fascinated by it, probably because it's so far removed from my way of working. Also, the intimate studio of Louise Bourgeois in New York, the studio of Fabienne Verdier and 'the cigar box' of Patrick Van Caeckenbergh in the MSK, in Ghent. Not long ago I visited Erik Mattijssen in his studio in the centre of Amsterdam, which made me quite jealous. These are all spaces that visibly belong to the artist and that they’ve built round themselves – be it consciously or unconsciously – in such a way that they could not have fit in with anyone else.
What does the ideal studio look like?
Not too big because then I'll get lost, but bigger than the studio I have now. Preferably, divided into smaller spaces, where each studio has its own function: storage of material, a workplace and a space to let some of the work rest for a while. In a quiet place, preferably in the city, with the certainty that I can stay there for a long time. The latter is especially important.
