At first glance, the wall objects and sculptures in Johan De Wit's Ghent studio reveal themselves before my eyes as picturesque, often abstract objects. I am looking at a work that is reminiscent of an installation by Donald Judd, but in a folded and dented version. I realize that the irregularity of these three-dimensional shapes and the resulting effect of the light give the works a more "human" look than is the case with Judd's austere works made from industrial materials. De Wit's works are neither cold nor distant. In fact, due to these consciously applied "imperfections" they appear so human, they invite you to touch or even caress them. This sets De Wit’s work apart from the American minimalism of the 1960s with exponents such as Donald Judd, Carl André and Soll LeWitt and many others who created images from a formal concept leaving no room for emotions.
Not so with Johan De Wit. Everywhere I look, I see objects hanging or standing which he folded out of paper and strengthened on the inside and outside with resins and iron powder. For example, there are abstract "paintings" and "chairs" and "ladders" which made me whether they were pieces of art or functional objects. On closer inspection, the objects look just slightly more fragile and shakier than the consumer products they suggest they are. As a result, they become objects that come to life, as it were, because they each have their own character. The folds and dents that the artist applies during the drying process and then finishes with different colours of resin - in subdued hues - illustrate the uniqueness of each of the art objects made by him. Industrialization with its mass production does not seem to exist. De Wit will sand over the painted layers until a pleasant, smooth surface is created. As unique and almost as soft as human skin.
While we are having coffee - and Johan treats me to delicious Ghent Mattentaartjes – he tells me he sometimes sincerely asks himself whether it would not be better if he had built houses or schools in Africa; whether his existence would make more sense than now, as an artist. We philosophize about these and other questions of life for a while without looking for answers. He proudly tells that he has a 10-year-old son and an older daughter who is already a mother herself. "They are my best friends," he says. And he adds that, precisely because he is a father and grandfather, he might be extra aware that there is so much wrong in the world, and that man's ridiculousness sometimes bothers him. But while he speaks these words, the corners of his mouth curl slightly upwards: "Of course we have to put things into perspective and also see the humour in things". I couldn't agree more and I would like to add that I see that perspective in his work because of the soft paper shapes from which the sharp edges have literally been removed, and because of the way in which the images can look rather shaky and somewhat clumsy. But humour? "Jokes don't last," he explains, "for example, cartoons are fun only for a moment."
Johan De Wit does not want to make something that is just temporarily funny. He takes his work far too seriously for that. He wants to make art that lasts; art that evokes an atmosphere of tranquillity and wonder. And he is looking for this in his pursuit of putting simple objects such as a potty, a ladder or a chair on a pedestal. Not literally, but by copying them and taking them out of their original context, he pays attention to something that you normally pass by. In this way he highlights the unusual in the ordinary and in the process elevates the ordinary to art.
He lost three dear friends last year. He gets emotional when he talks about it. Suddenly I see how the intensive way in which this man feels and thinks resides in those folded papers; how he infuses simple material such as paper with his emotional richness, making it the basis of objects that transcend the everyday. De Wit's wall objects and sculptures are silent, stylized witnesses to memories, of old loves and childhood friends. Precious memories that may also evoke pain, but are no less pure and true. Just like his art.