The exhibition 'Works on Paper' by Hans Op de Beeck opened at Ron Mandos on Saturday 26 November. This Belgian artist has made a name for himself with large installations, sculptures, films and photographs that confront us with our own lives and mortality and call for reflection. For this exhibition, Op de Beeck returns to the simplicity of black-and-white drawings in search of a form of visual fiction in which idyll and disquiet, darkness and light alternate. In 'Works on Paper', Op de Beeck shows more than once that the essence should not be sought in the spectacular or the grand, but in the intimacy of a small gesture, a brief moment. Like in the series 'Gestures', in which life-sized, sculpted arms and hands perform small unobtrusive everyday actions: a hand offering a bowl of blackberries, two hands holding a letter. Or as Hans says, 'My son's head falling asleep on my lap.' A conversation with Hans Op de Beeck.
MK How did you end up in the art world?
HOdB My connection to the realm of images or art originated with comics and graphic novels. I was not taught art at home, but I have always drawn a lot, although I was reluctant to show it later in life. For a long time, I found my drawings too pictorial or illustrative. I was insecure about them. That also explains why I got a Master's degree in sculptures, video and photography.
MK For 'Work on paper', you return to a process you started in 2009 following an exhibition in the Galleria Borghese in Rome.
HOdB That's right. The director of the Galleria Borghese in Rome unexpectedly invited me to do a solo exhibition there a month and a half later. Naturally, I accepted the offer, but what can you produce in such a short time in one of the most beautiful museums in the world and in the same space as paintings by the likes of Caravaggio and sculptures by such masters as Bernini? I immediately knew I didn't want, for example, a literal confrontation between old and contemporary by building a multimedia installation. So, I decided to create works on paper, so as to stay modest in the presence of intimidating old masters.
MK How did it turn out?
HOdB I started stretching large sheets of paper onto wooden panels of approximately 120 x 300 cm. With a wide flat brush, a rounded brush, a bowl of water and a tube of black watercolour pigment, I began making watercolours. There are now more than 400 of them, totalling over a kilometre. Since that exhibition, I have continued to paint watercolours, creating a sort of continuous picture book.
MK What do you show of that picture book in your exhibition at Ron Mandos?
HOdB The largest of the watercolours has a width of 500 cm. At Ron [Mandos, MK], you can see both large and small works. I like the intimate nature of working with paper. It is much less intimidating than working on canvas, where you have to relate to the old masters in a much more direct way. Like I mentioned, my watercolours have a print room-like character. In other words, you can link the independent works together by free association. Without any effort. And it is precisely this simplicity that I find so important, as opposed to the intimidating history of Western painting.
MK What exactly do you mean by free association?
HOdB The picture book is based on a large number of black-and-white watercolours that together form a whole, even though the themes are completely different. It is precisely this freedom that gives me the opportunity to connect different time periods or to combine something idyllic with something disturbing. For example, I can paint a timeless mountain landscape together with a laptop and a can of beer or a glitter ball in an abandoned disco. I like to connect everyday elements and timeless references in an anachronistic and eclectic way: from micro to macro, from contemporary to classic, from personal to universal, etc.
MK How would you describe your work as a whole?
HOdB I consider my work a reflection on being human and view life as a tragicomic fact. The cliché of life as 'a smile and a tear' is true. Sometimes, people think that I personally go through life in a melancholic state of mind, but that is a misconception – all the more so because I consider it my duty as a father to approach life positively and constructively. I believe that if you avoid the dark sides of your work, you are not making a credible story and the image will not move you. By the way, I think it's comforting to see the dark side of life reflected in the work of an author, composer or artist because it makes you feel like you're not the only one struggling.
I think it's comforting to see the dark side of life reflected in the work of an author, composer or artist because it makes you feel like you're not the only one struggling.
MK How do aesthetics relate to the dark side of your work?
HOdB I think I fit into the tragicomic spirit of, for example, the Coen brothers, the filmmaking duo who depict the clumsiness of our muddling through life in a playful yet sophisticated way, and in the spirit of the Belgian filmmakers and brothers Dardenne and their social realism. In their films, poverty plays a major role, but not at the expense of artistic subtlety or intelligence. In Flemish, they often say, ‘A corner needs to be cut off', which means that an image must provoke or shock in order to have an impact. I don't necessarily believe in that and find beauty and sophistication relevant because I prefer to work in an indirect, subcutaneous way, rather than in an unambiguously provocative manner. If you talk about things in an exaggerated way, the message quickly turns hollow and the discourse takes a pathetic turn. I don't like grand gestures either. You can depict human suffering in a very raw way with people and situations from the fringes of society. But if you convey tragedy in a tragic way, you enter the realm of pathos or exaggeration that is no longer genuine. You can also choose to convey human suffering in a more discreet way, such as by means of a deceptively aesthetic image in which darkness and heaviness are just below the surface. For example, you can portray a homeless person in a harrowing environment, but you can also choose to depict only the man’s eyes – because those eyes already speak volumes in terms of suffering and tragedy. You have to avoid succumbing to some kind of artificial tragedy at all times because you will lose your credibility.
MK Can you give an example of a situation in which human suffering is shown or experienced in what you believe is the appropriate way?
HOdB I remember standing at my sister's bedside a few days before she died and some random TV programme was on while we talked about the weather. The awkwardness of the situation, with that seemingly meaningless dialogue about the weather and the noise from the TV in the background, speaks volumes more than a serious conversation about life at that moment. I don't like to start a haughty conversation at such a moment; that combination of banality and lightness contrasting with a decidedly tragic and final moment say so much more, and without unnecessary drama. There should be a perspective in the image, so that you can look at it receptively as it were, but can also step out of it again.
MK We live in turbulent times. How do the problems we face as living beings relate to your work?
HOdB In my work, I always discuss themes like refugee problems, social inequality and derailed consumer behaviour. But I'm careful not to point a moralising finger. I ask questions together with the visitor. I'm also just someone who muddles through life. I've never felt a calling to make art that deals with current events directly and has a moralistic message as if I had a monopoly on wisdom and solutions
MK What or who is/are your greatest sources of inspiration?
HOdB To be honest, I am more inspired by life itself than the works of any artist or writer. I have, however, the privilege of working regularly with people from other disciplines, such as recently with the Flemish-Moroccan Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, one of our greatest choreographers. I admire the work of many of my colleagues in the visual arts, but I draw most of my inspiration from collaborating with contemporaries in other disciplines: writers, philosophers, composers, singers and choreographers. A good example is my collaboration with the composer of contemporary music Wim Henderickx, who made the two-and-a-half-hour-long opera 'De bekeerlinge' based on a book of the same name by Belgian writer Stefan Hertmans, for which I did the scenography, direction and costume design. Or my collaboration with the highly experimental Greek composer Georges Aperghis and the Ictus ensemble. I have learned to be open to the unknown and have ultimately become highly receptive to not-so-obvious musical languages.
MK
HOdB I try to create images that people can experience immediately, even without any prior knowledge. In order to do so, they must have a certain level of immediacy. From there, you can write, refine, deepen many layers of meaning and references between the lines. After all, art is not football and therefore not necessarily for everyone. Above all, art should be creative, even if that means it is only understood by a handful of people.
Above all, art should be creative, even if that means it is only understood by a handful of people.
Art needs the full spectrum in terms of content and form: from extremely accessible to completely hermetic. It is not right to say that art should be accessible to everyone because you then tame, curb or even turn art into propaganda.
MKApart from watercolours, what else can be seen in the exhibition?
HOdB I chose a few conservative images, such as a sculpted sea view. The sea is a recurring theme in my work. It’s based on personal experience: as a child, I always went to the sea with my parents and siblings, to a universal image. And no matter how ugly the Belgian coast may be in terms of architecture, the sea itself is and will always be beautiful. I remember the sea from my childhood as a source of tranquillity, as the ultimate horizon with no strings are attached. Water reflects and allows to reflect, making the sea the ultimate environment to let your thoughts flow, to introspect and to simply let things go. I sculpted a sofa from where you can watch the sea. The sculpture of the sea is a bas-relief of a kind of petrified sea, like a fossil. I also show some works from the Gestures series, consisting of arms coming out of the wall and performing a simple action: such as two hands placing a laurel wreath on someone's head or two hands holding a letter.
The drive to create is a positive force, even if it is an apocalyptic work. Creation in itself is a constructive act: healing and purifying for the maker first and foremost, but also for the public.
MK What is an important insight that resonates in your work and/or your life?
HOdB I think the essence lies in the small things or situations. Like the moment my youngest son falls asleep with his head on my lap. A very ordinary, everyday moment, but with a huge impact. After all, we do not get the essence of life from the spectacular, but from small things or minor gestures. I try to give shape to this idea in the sea view and in the idyll of the roebuck as a sculpted version of the untouched, of the pure, like Disney’s Bambie. I particularly love the moment when things turn from sweet to dark, from innocence to confrontational awareness.
MK Are you optimistic about the future?
HOdB Human history shows that we do not learn from the past. Everything we did wrong we keep doing wrong. Yet, as individuals, we have a sort of moral duty to maintain a positive outlook. Otherwise, we become cynical and no longer see the value of beauty or the small things that matter. In fact, the only option we have is to make something of our lives ourselves – first and foremost for ourselves and our loved ones.