When art becomes a conversation rather than a statement, a space is created that invites listening, wandering and discovery. The exhibition 'Dialogue' at NQ Gallery dares to undertake that delicate endeavour. Curator Francis Henri Vanhee brings together 25 artists without subjecting them to a rigid framework. What at first seems like a risky labyrinth of impressions turns out on closer inspection to be a subtle and living network of meaning. This reflection seeks out the invisible thread that holds this kaleidoscopic exhibition together.
A curator who makes himself invisible
In contemporary exhibition practices, the curator is often omnipresent: visible in the concept, in the scenography and in the insistent texts that place works within a particular discourse. Francis Henri Vanhee chooses a radically different approach in 'Dialogue'. He almost completely disappears behind the work and lets the art speak — or rather whisper — for itself.
His role is that of a discreet guide, creating only the conditions under which genuine encounters can take place. There is no overarching narrative binding the works together, no dominant aesthetic homogenising the viewer’s gaze, yet you sense his hand everywhere: in the breathing space between the pieces, in the unexpected tensions that arise where two worlds meet, in the conscious choice not to steer the viewer, but to let them wander.
Between fragment and encounter: the power of the incomplete
Bringing together 25 artists without subjecting them to a rigid concept is a brave endeavour. Admittedly, there are moments when the multitude overwhelms, when some works of art seem to disappear into the crowd. But perhaps that is precisely the point. In 'Dialogue', it is not the whole that carries meaning, but the fragment, the chance encounter, the glance that lingers on a detail.
So, a subtly figurative acrylic painting from Hungary, a serene and abstract oil painting from Japan and a ceramic vase can suddenly enter into a surprising dialogue — not despite the surrounding multitude, but because of it. Each work is a possible gateway, an opportunity for a dialogue that unfolds if the viewer is willing to listen.
The exhibition first and foremost does not ask for interpretation, but for presence. It invites a different kind of looking — one that does not immediately seek to understand, but to experience.
Lies Casier: a whispered conversation with Matisse
A poignant example of this silent dialogue is Lies Casier’s work, titled "René, would Matisse see that this is inspired by one of his works?
". In this piece, Casier initiates a delicate conversation with art history — not by copying her inspiration, but by lovingly reinterpreting it. The softness of her colour palette, the loose brushwork and the dreamlike vagueness of the forms create an atmosphere of intimacy that stands in stark contrast to the spectacle often dominating the contemporary art world.
It is not a grand gesture, not a bold manifesto, but a personal, poetic invitation to look and listen anew. The title, posed as a question, underscores this openness: no statement is made, but rather a question is asked, a dialogue initiated.
Zita David: the poetry of what remains
Within that same landscape of mutual gazes and silent stories is "Leftovers" by Zita David. In an almost hyperrealistic painting of city pigeons gathered around remnants of fast food and abandoned coffee cups, David captures the transience and beauty of the everyday. What at first seems to be a banal scene turns out on closer inspection to be a razor-sharp reflection on consumption, pollution and the persistence of life on the margins of human presence. "Leftovers" fits seamlessly within the spirit of 'Dialogue': here, too, dialogue arises not from grand gestures, but from attention to what remains, to what is overlooked. The work challenges the viewer to pause and engage with the uncomfortable conversation between humanity and nature, between use and decay — and to find unexpected beauty within it.
Between polyphony and confusion
Naturally, an exhibition like this is not without risk. The multiplicity of voices can sometimes turn into a murmur in which individual works of art lose their strength. Not every piece manages to claim the space equally as strongly. Some remain unnoticed or seem isolated without a natural connection.
Yet for me, that friction is part of the experience. As in a real conversation, there are misunderstandings, silences, moments when communication falters. But it is precisely in that imperfection that authenticity lies. 'Dialogue' is not an exhibition that smooths itself into a consumable experience; it remains messy, unfinished, in motion — and therein lies its vitality.
An exhibition as a living organism
Perhaps this is Vanhee’s greatest curatorial achievement: he dares to view the exhibition as a living organism, not as a finished end product. 'Dialogue' grows and changes with each viewer who enters the space, with each gaze that forges new connections.
It is not an exhibition that pretends to offer universal answers, but one that leaves room for personal interpretations, for divergent routes and unexpected discoveries. It demands an active, searching attitude from the viewer — a mindset that, in our era of quick judgment and algorithmic recommendations, is anything but self-evident.