Photographer Michiel Kluiters creates scale models of spaces in his Zaan studio that make the viewer lose all sense of scale. These spaces often only have a door or a window, but are otherwise empty and, above all, mysterious. There is no context to explain anything about the location, time or size of the spaces, making you step into them without any guidance—and that is precisely Kluiters' intention. “Once inside, you lose all solid ground. As a viewer, you have to figure everything out for yourself, which creates the opportunity for your own experience.”
New work by Kluiters (1971), along with that of Lisanne Hoogerwerf, is current on display in the duo exhibition Inner Worlds at Galerie Wilms. Hoogerwerf also creates scale models and photo sets, which he then photograph from a distance, as if they are part of a landscape. Hoogerwerf and Kluiters each have a unique perspective, yet seamlessly complement one another.
The exhibition Inner Worlds is on display until 12 October at Galerie Wilms in Venlo.
Where is your studio and what does it look like?
My studio is located in a shared building in Zaandam surrounded by set studios for various film productions. It’s a nice, five-metre-high space of about 100 m². In the winter, it’s freezing and in the summer, can get extremely hot, but it’s still somewhat affordable, so I can’t complain.
You’re a photographer, but not in the classic sense. You build scale models in your studio and then photograph them, which we’ll discuss later. What kind of studio does this require?
I like to work on several pieces at the same time, so having a lot of space is nice because it means I can leave things lying around. I work a lot with leftover materials (like various types of wood) from the companies around me and I recycle my models repeatedly, so I need space for that as well. Unfortunately, my studio doesn’t have any windows at working height, only daylight from above, so I currently use different types of artificial light.
If I were to spend a day with you, what would that be like? When do you start working, do you have routines, is there music playing or is it completely silent? And do people stop by or do you prefer solitude?
I live just on the other side of the Zaan River, a ten-minute walk from my studio. I like that because I’m not a typical nine-to-five person. I walk back and forth between home and the workshop several times a day. There’s no computer in the studio—that’s at home. In the studio, I make things with my hands.
I prefer to be alone when I’m working. My work originates from a sort of dialogue with myself. My dog Luna is always with me though. Sometimes she drives me crazy by standing next to me to see what I’m doing.
Congratulations on the duo exhibition with Lisanne Hoogerwerf at Galerie Wilms in Venlo! How did this collaboration come about and what are the commonalities between your work and Lisanne’s?
Wilms approached me for this exhibition and I was curious about how our photographic creations might complement each other. Lisanne also stages a kind of scale-model photo set in her studio, which she then photographs. She creates dreamlike landscapes in which a small house or shed in the distance beckons you. In my photos, as a viewer, you’re already directly in that inner space. We each work from our own perspective. I think it’s exciting for viewers to see our work side by side.
One question you probably get often is why you photograph the models instead of presenting them as standalone works. What do you believe the photographs add?
The physical object itself isn’t interesting for me to show. The rough scale models I build aren’t preconceived or designed. They are really part of the process of creating a potential new photographic work. It’s like a canvas on which I work intuitively and based on a process. I approach the creation of the models as a way of capturing light. The spatial illusions that the light brings out are captured in a photograph. That’s the artwork. Without that moment of being touched by light, they are nothing more than dead objects.
What’s fascinating about your work is that the viewer has little by way of guidance. You don’t know where it is, when it is or how big it is. That brings out emotions and encourages a personal experience. Is that your goal?
Yes, I think that’s essential! I try to create pictures that invite you to step inside and once inside, you lose all solid ground. You have to figure everything out for yourself, which creates an opportunity for your own experience.
How do the models originate? Do you have a set plan or no plan at all?
I often have an idea when I first get started, but it always turns out completely different. I like to let myself be guided by my intuition and consciously try to let my hands do the work, while listening less to my head. This makes me a spectator of my own actions in a way. I observe a lot, often early on through the lens of my camera, and then continue. Sometimes nothing results for weeks—out of pure frustration, I took a grinder to the work Hacking the Matrix, and then suddenly, the image appeared.
If I were to give you carte blanche, is there a project you’ve had in mind for a long time that you would immediately start working on?
I enjoy creating very large works. Last year at BIG ART, I showed a lightbox measuring 250x330cm, which made quite an impression. The exciting interplay between the scale—almost equal to reality—and the way the light works is something I’d like to explore further.
Is that what you’re currently working on?
Yes, next year I have an exhibition for which I want to create a number of huge works.