21 october 2022, Oscar van Gelderen
The gallery of... Luc Franken
In the section 'The gallery of' we talk to a host of gallerists from the Netherlands and Belgium: when and how did they start their gallery, what has changed in the art world since, what is their profile, what do they collect themselves, and what has been the impact of the pandemic on their gallery? This week we speak to Luc Franken from the Antwerp-based gallery ZEIT.
Were you exposed to art while growing up?
At one point my father had a subscription to Openbaar Kunstbezit – I am talking about the sixties, the early years of that art magazine – and during trips we sometimes visited a museum, but to say that art plays an important role in our family would be overstating it. I did have an aunt who collected art and antiques, and that attracted me as a child. I remember being especially fascinated by the colourful paintings of still lifes and landscapes, which were somewhere between figurative and abstract. Later she gifted me one of those works, the first work of art in what would later develop into a collection. It was also she who took me to an auction room for the first time. I found it super exciting.
Luc Franken and Philip Joël Wright in their very first apartment (1990)
How did you come across the art world?
Art is everywhere, at least for those who are sensitive to it. When I walked through Antwerp as a sixteen or seventeen year old, I was triggered by certain shapes and images. The 1970s were palpably in the air. I remember that – driven by curiosity – I entered the ICC, the International Cultural Centre, then located in the former Royal Palace on the Meir, which is in the centre of town. The ICC was the first public institution in Flanders where contemporary art was displayed. It opened in 1970, initially with Ludo Bekkers and later Flor Bex as director. I didn't know any name or understood what I saw there, but I found it incredibly fascinating. So, this is art too!
In the years that followed, as a student, and after I started working, I started traveling more. No city trip was complete without exploring the local museums and gallery scene. In 1988, for example, in the Centre Pompidou in Paris, I suddenly came face to face with the enormous canvases of Cy Twombly, a name unknown to me at the time. I was transfixed. It was the beginning of a lifelong admiration. In 1994, I flew to New York for an extensive Cy Twombly retrospective; at the Gagosian Gallery I saw a work made for the occasion measuring four by one and a half meters.
That's the advantage of starting as a layman: around every corner can be a surprise, and some of those surprises change your life forever. When I started living on my own, at age eighteen, I had no budget the furnish my rental apartment. Like I said before: art is everywhere. In the poster you pick up in your favourite gallery, in the postcards from the museum shop with which you create a composition on your kitchen wall, and yes, also in the first vintage lamps and furniture, which, in those days, you could find for next to nothing at the local thrift shops. I even found some pieces in the garbage. I remember taking out Arne Jacobsen from a container that was ready to be sent to the landfill. Not much later, the first 'real' art purchases followed: some serigraphs by Guy Vandenbranden and a few other constructivists from the 1970s, at a small auction house nearby. Nobody wanted it then. I paid 25 cents each.
Later I got to know artists such as Paul Van Hoeydonck, Mark Verstockt, Cel Overberghe and the aforementioned Guy Vandenbranden. I gradually found out that you can simply address them, which is not that obvious as an outsider, as a 'little boy'. Over the years, I’ve had wonderful conversations with artists of different generations: from Keith Haring to Geneviève Claisse, and from Hannelore Van Dijck to Filip Collin. Stepping into a gallery for the first time also takes courage, I remember. It has inspired me to remove as many barriers as possible now that I run a gallery myself.
Luc and Philip in the Royal SAS hotel in Copenhagen, in the only remaining room that was furbished by Arne Jacobsen (1992)
What was your first job in a gallery? Or did you immediately start a gallery yourself?
I’ve spend a long time waiting and contemplating it, but once I decided on it, I immediately took the plunge and started a gallery at the end of 2019. The stars were in a favourable position, everything pointed in the direction. The ground floor of the double building that I bought with an architect friend in the 1990s and that we shared after a thorough renovation, became available because he had moved to a larger office, so I already had a space. Also, in the preceding forty years, I had built a collection to start out, and I've had been wanting to get started for an eternity. Good contacts with befriended artists and gallery owners did the rest.
Luc in the Fondation Vasarely (2015). Photo: Brecht Vandenbroucke
How would you describe your gallery’s profile?
ZEIT mainly invites artists and designers who are at the beginning of their career, or who as creators have not yet received the recognition that we – I run the gallery with my partner Philip Joël Wright – think they deserve. We combine their work with items from the ZEIT collection, which mainly consists of post-war abstract work, plus vintage and new design.
We bring together old and new in four exhibitions a year. This can take the shape of a duo exhibition, such as 'Brief: Encounter', with work by Filip Collin and Jo Delahaut, but the selection tends to be broader and centre around a theme. For example, we opened the gallery with the 'Balls!' exhibition, in which the circle was the central theme and we showed very diverse work. Ranging from a Zero work by Mark Verstockt from 1963 to an authentic 'Moon' lamp by Verner Panton and a reflective LP record by Lotte Van den Audenaeren presented on an old Technics turntable.
During the first lockdown, we set up an all-white exhibition in the front space of the gallery that people could view from the street – and of course also online – named 'Blanco', including a 'winter landscape' consisting of 'Marco' vases by Sergio Asti and 'Noce' lamps by Achille & Pier Giacomo Castiglioni. We put the year 1970 in the spotlight by organizing '7 x 70' half a century later, with the subtitle: that was then, this is now. We then only showed art made in that year and asked seven contemporary artists to present work that responded to that. And because yellow is my favourite colour, we recently had a completely yellow expo entitled '#FFFF00'.
We now have 'Zwischen meinen Ichs', built around the graduation project of Laurence Petrone and the architectural interventions of Erik Haemers, supplemented with work by Bernd Lohaus that we have on loan from the Bernd Lohaus Foundation.
Luc with Paul Van Hoeydonck (2018)
What do you think is the best part of being a gallerist?
The best part is curating, bringing all elements together, putting the puzzle together. In the weeks before the opening of a new exhibition – when we collect all the works in the storage spaces of the gallery – the search begins, which is quite exciting. Items often move at the last minute. After all, the atmosphere in the various spaces is very different: from the room facing the street with a parquet floor and the allure of a living room via the more than twenty meters long corridor and the high space in the middle of the building to the garden pavilion with concrete floor and wall – the art experience is different everywhere. The light also varies enormously, from front to back. It is therefore important not only to set up the appropriate works in close proximity, but also to choose the most suitable place for them in the gallery.
In addition, the contact with the artists is very satisfying. From preparatory talks and studio visits to jointly deciding on the final selection and the pleasant contacts during vernissages, finissages and other events.
Which national / international galleries do you feel an affinity with?
As we occupy a rather special spot with our mix of contemporary and post-war abstracts, I cannot immediately name a gallery in which this relationship is evident. Sometimes I see beautifully curated exhibitions in museums that are somewhat in line with what we are trying to do. Also, occasionally I come across images online in which I recognize our approach, often of collectors who create a similar combination in their homes.
Luc in the exhibition 'Blanco' in 2020
In an ideal world, which artist would you most like to represent?
Oh, there are too many to mention. In the estate segment, I would have loved to have added Sol LeWitt and Cy Twombly to my portfolio. All the contemporary artists I admire are fine with the galleries that represent them now. And if not, they can always call me!
What has changed in the art world since you took your first steps?
Our gallery has not been around for very long, but of course I have been interested in art for much longer. The biggest changes at a glance: there are many more people who call themselves artists than there were twenty years ago, the bond between artist and gallery has loosened, social media has given artists more visibility and greater autonomy with all the pros and cons associated with it. Also, the art-buying audience is expanding into the younger segment. 25 year-olds buying their first work, often on credit, which I think is wonderful.
Luc in the exhibition 'Everything is illuminated' (2021)
What / whose work do you collect yourself?
In addition to contemporary work by the people we exhibit ourselves - and the occasional purchase from one of our colleagues - I continue to look forward to strong work by our favourite post-war abstract masters. In my own country I am thinking of Mark Verstockt, Cel Overberghe and André Beullens, and a little further away of Jean Dewasne, Georg Karl Pfahler and Gianni Colombo. And if I ever find a pot of gold, I spend a good chunk of it buying one of Walter Leblanc’s 'Twisted Strings', a great 1950s work by Heinz Mack, a gouache by Hélio Oiticica, an oil on canvas by Wojciech Fangor and one by Ellsworth Kelly, and a sculpture by Ivan Picelj. Oh yes, and please add to that a late work by Mario Sironi and a Bridget Riley.
Has the pandemic changed the way you see the artworld?
The pandemic has reinforced some trends that already existed, such as online sales. Furthermore, the pandemic has made us reflect on the rat race, both in the art world and beyond. The stillness was welcome. Although it should have stopped there. Successive crises are fuelling uncertainty and rampant inflation is crumbling our prosperity. That is noticeable in sales. The top segment will probably not be bothered by this, but our visitors are more likely to hesitate and sometimes cancel a purchase at the last minute.
The current exhibition 'Zwischen meinen Ichs', which includes work by Laurence Petrone, Erik Haemers, Bernd Lohaus and Dimitrih Correa (2022)
