10 october 2019, Oscar van Gelderen & Manuela Klerkx
Roderic Evans-Knaup in front of work by Anton Corbijn, “Christy & Naomi” (Turlington & Campbell) en “Don” (van Vliet, capt. Beefheart). Photo by: Rosa Evans-Knaup.
In this section we let a selection of art lovers – from occasional buyers to art professionals – talk about their perception of art and preferences: where do they want to see art? Where do they purchase art, and above all: from which artists do they buy? Below, an interview with Roderic Evans-Knaup (Director of Gieskes-Strijbis Fund)
What does art mean to you?
Art is interesting to me if it causes a spark in my head and in my stomach at the same time. Often the meaning of a work stimulates my brain and the visual attractiveness my stomach. And "attractive" certainly does not always mean "beautiful".
Did you get an appreciation of art from your parents or did you have to find your own way?
The only work I can remember in our home is a replica of a work by Jan Steen, painted on wood. My interest in contemporary art only started about twenty years ago, my girlfriend at the time worked in the gallery of Rob Malasch: Serieuze Zaken. My voyage of discovery started there with one of Massimo Vitali’s disco photos.
Mick jagger & John Lennon, LA, 1974, Ron Galella.
Where do you get your information about the ups and downs in the art world?
I regularly talk to artists and gallery owners. And through my work I also come across many people who work in the visual arts.
Where do you prefer to look at art?
Of course, it is interesting to see what a curator has assembled for a gallery or museum exhibition and think about the choices he or she made. The most fun to me, however, is visiting a studio and being in conversation with an artist. Then you can really get to the core of someone's motives for making something.
How many times a year do you buy art?
Too few times for my greed and too many for my wallet. I try to stick to four to six times a year. I don't mind if something is unique or editioned - I am quite happy to share an artwork with other people.
Een regenachtige dag, 2019, Marisca Voskamp van Noord.
And where do you buy: in the gallery, at an art fair, at an auction or online?
Usually in a gallery, or directly at the artist. Occasionally, I see something online. The range on Catawiki is huge, but often somewhat limited in quality: that feels a bit like snacking.
Is it important that you and your partner always agree on a purchase?
No, that's not important. We are both art historians and working in the art world, but we have very different interests. We both think it would be a shame to compromise on art.
Is there a gallery with which you have a special relationship?
It all started with Rob Malasch, who taught me to look well. I learnt a great deal about photography from Torch Gallery founder Adriaan van der Have, who passed away too early, and Wouter van Leeuwen. These days I see Gabriel Rolt regularly. He opened a great space called HERO in Noord last year.
STUDIES AND FURTHER STUDIES IN A DYING CULTURE, 20, 2019, Thomas Raat.
If you had an unlimited budget, from whom would you purchase a work?
I wouldn’t necessarily want purchase it, but what I would like to see Daniel Goldreyer’s 1991 attempt at restoring Who's Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue III be undone and see whether we can do it properly with today’s insights and technology. And we succeed this time, it should just be on permanent display at the Stedelijk.
Who are your favourite artists?
Ana Navas: because her work always surprises me and makes me smile. It is resourceful, playful and authentic. Earlier this year I bought an assemblage from her consisting of mats, 80’s jewelry and shoulder pads. Awesome! By the way, you can still see her work at tegenboschvanvreden until 5 October.
Pauline Curnier Jardin: because I love her feverish mania, her theatrical, absurd approaches to equally alienating subjects, almost always with a female figure in the lead.
Meiro Koizumi is an artist in whose work I’d like find out more about. I find it very intriguing how he portrays things like the collective memory of Japan, but also traumas and taboos.
Cedrick Tamasala, How My Grandfather Survived, 2015, Renzo Martens.