11 april 2023, Manuela Klerkx
Ewerdt Hilgemann’s ‘implosions’
'The air is my hammer
I am an air smith'
— Ewerdt Hilgemann
(from: 'Ewerdt Hilgemann: the Belgian Connection', Verbeke Foundation)
One might describe the work of artist Ewerdt Hilgemann (1938, Witten, Germany) as the material manifestation of a quest for the essence of life in both the human and material sense. Hilgemann's artistic process revolves around finding the right balance between the operation of natural forces such as gravity and air pressure on the one hand and human manipulation of matter on the other. According to the artist, both elements are necessary to transform an object into a work of art or into animated matter. It is precisely in this change or metamorphosis that the existential meaning of Hilgemann's work lies. In in his own words: “Inner revolutions determine outer changes.”
Hilgemann is best known for his 'implosions': vacuum-moulded, large, stainless steel forms that can be seen all over the world and that have given him a unique position in abstract sculpture. Manuela Klerkx entered into a conversation with the 85-year-old, but still remarkably enthusiastic and productive artist Ewerdt Hilgemann.
How did you actually end up in the Netherlands?
I was born in Witten (Germany) in 1938, so I am what you might call a war child. Because I personally experienced the war, I wanted to get away from the place of my childhood, history and my parents as soon as possible. While studying art in Germany, I had exhibitions in Europe and from 1966, was represented by Galerie Swart [From 1964 to 2000, Riekje Swart's Amsterdam gallery showed new, international art, ed.]. In 1967, I met Antoinette de Stigter [founder of Kunstcentrum Badhuis in Gorinchem (1974) of Art Affairs Gallery, a commercial gallery based in Amsterdam specialising in international contemporary art, ed.] in Brussels, who I ended up marrying in Gelsenkirchen (Germany) in 1968. In 1969, we decided to go to New York to see if this was where our future lay. Although we were still young, we felt too old for this city and decided to stay closer to our common origins. In 1970, we settled in Gorinchem, where befriended artist including Marinus Boezem and Ad Dekkers also lived.
Ewerdt Hilgemann, Quad, 2004, COPPEJANS GALLERY
How did you experience the transition from Germany to the Netherlands?
I come from the Ruhr area, which is a sandy area with lots of forests. That might explain why I didn’t work at all during my first six months in the Netherlands. I wanted to take in the entire Dutch landscape: I went down the dikes, across the bridges (“I had never before seen a boat that seemed to be sailing on a highway”) and drove across the country. The Dutch language is very visual and contains countless proverbs that have to do with water. I memorised them one by one and that helped me master the Dutch language.
In the 1960s, you experimented with subtle, white, wooden wall-mounted works that were sensitive to the action of light, in keeping with your affiliation with the ZERO movement. You then moved on to conceptual sculpture, initially opting for boulders and marble, but eventually, starting the mid-1980s, focusing on geometric, stainless steel shapes and experimenting with air pressure. Can you tell a bit about that?
It all started with the rolling cube in 1983, an experiment that was essential to my personal liberation. At the time, I was often in Carrara [famous Italian marble quarry, ed.], where I constantly saw trucks driving back and forth with large marble blocks. At one point, I came up with the idea to have a large, rough marble block, 150 x 150 cm, removed from the quarry, polished until I could see myself in it, returned to the quarry and then rolled down (330 m) like a ping pong ball looking for its own place. What remained was a 'bella ruina', a marble object that was damaged on the outside and flawless on the inside. For this experiment, I had to have the streets at the bottom of the quarry cordoned off because that cube naturally jumped and rolled in all directions, followed by thousands of stones. We ended up having to dig out the battered block with a caterpillar. One side was still completely sharp and undamaged. Two weeks later, the owner of the sawmill who made this possible and who was touched by the event, invited me and some friends – without our wives! – out to celebrate this successful experiment at a trattoria. Here, he kept a chair free for the cube – of which he wanted a piece, by the way – and spoke the words: “The cube is sitting at our table.” He had understood. (laughs)
That is why I experienced that process of the 'rolling cube' as a metaphor for my personal liberation. It seemed as if I had let myself roll down and let everything literally slide off me, so that only my hard core, my essence, remained. And isn't that the goal of all creation after all? To get to the essence?
But you did not continue to use marble, but switched to steel instead. Why?
Now that I had liberated myself – which incidentally cost me friendships with fellow artists who from that point on saw me as a 'conceptual' artist and therefore no longer 'one of them' – I also wanted to liberate matter, that is to say to penetrate to its core. When we moved from Gorinchem to Amsterdam in 1984, this was accompanied by yet another change in my work. Instead of hammers, saws and drills, I wanted to use natural forces as tools. For example, I used the air pressure as a 'hammer' to create new images. I had large geometric steel shapes made from which I had the air sucked out using a vacuum pump until an equilibrium was reached between the outside pressure and strength of the material. And as the air was being sucked out of the cube, large and small folds formed in the steel that determined the final shape of these 'implosions'. Nature did all the work, not me.
Ewerdt Hilgemann, HP Hanging Cube, 2016, BorzoGallery
To me, an implosion represents the inward spiral of energy that is needed to get to the core and mystery of matter, as therein lies the ultimate beauty of creation.
