"Emptiness, serenity and nearly sterile tables… After all, white paper and cardboard are anything but forgiving."
In her home studio just across the border in Aachen, Germany, Caroline Hofman works with utmost concentration on her cardboard sculptures. At her desk, she draws with a knife. In her sculptures, she explores the possibilities of a simple material like cardboard. "I study the strength and functionality of the material while simultaneously exploring light and shadow effects."
Coppejans Gallery is currently showcasing Hofman's work at PAN in Amsterdam, alongside that of Zero artists such as Walter Leblanc, Heinz Mack and Jan Schoonhoven. Like Hofman, these artists work with simple materials and light and shadow. Caroline Hofman's work is also on display at Galerie Helga Hofman at PAN.
Where is your studio and what does it look like?
I live and work in the south of Aachen, surrounded by a beautiful forest and with a lovely old park within walking distance. I live centrally, yet very peacefully, with a large wild garden and plenty of light and space. My workspaces are located in my home. The choice of a particular space depends on the light, location needed for a work and the type of work I am doing. I consider it a privilege that my life and work intertwine in this way, that my thoughts, constructions and ideas grow and take shape surrounded by my daily life and by what I collect and find inspiring. My main workspace is fairly minimal, with two large frosted glass tables in front of the windows with bright daylight, two old wooden chairs, an antique Chinese cabinet, a large steamer trunk and an industrial rack for my materials.
Apart from four very good work lamps, a scalpel, ruler and a cutting mat, my worktables are completely empty when I work. Emptiness, serenity and nearly sterile tables… After all, white paper and cardboard are anything but forgiving. The glass tables cause reflections and shadows throughout the day that give new or different dimensions to my work as it takes shape, with a constant change in rhythm, structure and image-forming qualities of light and shadow, characteristics that are decisive for my work. The other workspaces are less empty and include many books, art, ethnography and collections of things with value and seemingly without value, a curious and perhaps absurd mix of styles and influences.
What makes a good studio for you: natural light, space, lots of surrounding greenery or colleagues nearby?
Bright light in my workspace is fundamental for my work. The natural light in all of my workspaces is very good, yet artificial light is also essential because I like to work in the evening or at night. Even during the day, I occasionally use artificial light, depending on how the light falls, creating deceptive shadows that can be fatal when cutting or assembling work. Moreover, light is not only essential for the creation process, but also for conceiving ideas. To study what happens with my work, I prefer to place everything in natural daylight. Light causes growth and change: seemingly introverted and static work is influenced by light in such a way that it appears to acquire an added dimensionality. At times, my work seems to move outside itself, with lines becoming planes, planes becoming lines, shadows overlapping and deepening the colour of the paper or cardboard. Time plays a significant role in this.
What matters most to you, the creation process or the final result?
Both are equally important to me and must be in perfect balance. The creation process requires a lot of time, patience and observation because a work grows slowly. I prefer to study the work for a long time to see and feel what can be added or removed – or to make modifications if necessary. I also spend a lot of time on preliminary studies. I have to study the ‘dynamic’ of the constructions for a long time to determine whether the idea is stable or changes or additions are needed. Studying the effect of light and shadow is part of this process, a permanent visual experiment. Only when I have been able to study a work for a long time and from all possible perspectives – and find that it corresponds to my intentions – am I able to finish it.
The monograph on your work is entitled The Aesthetics of Silence. Can I infer from this title that you prefer to work in silence?
The title of the monograph, written by Antoon Melissen about my work, is not directly related to my preferred way of working, but says more about what my work conveys. But it is true that I prefer to work in silence. The creation process requires a high degree of precision, concentration and inner calm. The mounting points, cutting lines and folding lines are so complex, fragile and vulnerable that I need utter concentration. Silence is essentially unconditional in this process. That is also why I prefer to work in the evening or at night, when it is silent and nothing distracts from the most essential.
You create paper and cardboard sculptures. When it comes to these materials, you talk about ‘Materialgerechtigkeit’. What do you mean by that?
Materialgerechtigkeit is a German term rooted in the early 20th century, in the days of the German Werkbund, the collaboration of artists and craftsmen seeking contemporary functionality, opposing historicism and unnecessary ornamentation. In my work, this translates into the ‘fairness’ and honesty of the material. In my three-dimensional compositions, I explore the possibilities of cardboard as a simple and original material. I study the strength and functionality of the material, while also exploring light and shadow effects. The original properties are not altered, but emphasised, with the work developing based on the conditions and possibilities of the material itself. I have a great fondness for paper and cardboard because of their simplicity and warm tactile character, and the possibility to develop three-dimensional objects from these simple, flat materials.
A completed work involves a long period of studying, experimenting, observing and reflecting: the durability of the material, what makes a construction become stable and what the limits are. The fragility and complexity of the work also play a significant role – all my work is hand-cut and mostly consists of two millimetre-wide lines and contact points – and one wrong cut or miscalculated mounting point can mean the end of the work. Weather conditions can also influence my work: moisture is the greatest enemy of paper and cardboard.
The sculptures are all executed in the non-colours of black and white. Why?
Antoon Melissen made a beautiful observation in the monograph about my work, namely, that the notion of Materialgerechtigkeit in my work is inseparably linked to a penchant for reduction, what he calls a 'formal and linguistic essentialism.' I 'peel' and 'unfold' my work until only the essence remains. The work derives its meaning from an encrypted relationship to reality. Even if the viewer thinks that he or she recognises real objects, there is still no functional and substantive relationship to reality.
'Decontextualisation' plays a key role in my work: I dismantle recognisability and see how the logical connections between forms and meanings are disrupted. I isolate recognisable objects and place them within a new context, causing them to lose their recognisability. Against the same background, I also maintain the ‘non-colours’ of black and white. Colour is inherently emotional, an individual interpretation that I filter out of my work. I strip the colour-saturated world of information, with only the essential remaining – light and shadow 'do' the rest. But although black and white are 'non-colours,' they change 'colour' and effectiveness under the influence of light and shadow.
Your work is currently on display at PAN in the Coppejans Gallery booth. Can you tell us a bit about that presentation?
I know that Stijn Coppejans always thinks carefully about how he presents work. His starting point is 'Art is Research' and that is also clear in his presentations. He brings together work from three generations in a varied yet serene booth. I know that he divides the space into ‘drawing room’, containing mainly figurative work, and a large front room with primarily abstract work. My work will be hanging in an installation with pieces by ZERO artists such as Heinz Mack, Lucio Fontana, Walter Leblanc, Jan Henderikse, Jan Schoonhoven and Henk Peeters, supplemented with work by my colleagues represented by Coppejans Gallery. Stijn always refers to these walls in our conversations as the ‘Zero+Now walls’. When he made the selection in my studio, I noticed once again that he never leaves without a concept: the content of the work and the relationship to the work of others are very important to him. And that's often how it goes with collectors as well: they not only seek quality, but also consider how the work can find a logical place in their collection.
The works displayed at PAN (both at Coppejans Gallery and at Galerie Helga Hofman) this time are closely related to the changing spatiality influenced by light and shadow. Under the influence of changing light, they lead to a confusing visual play – the spaces seemingly change in depth and form, acquiring a different focus depending on how the light falls on the work. In two other works, there is a notion of Hinterzimmer: spaces that, through a narrow slit, reveal the not immediately perceptible spaces behind, with light causing an interplay of light lines. Smaller structural work and fragile cardboard sculptures are also on display at PAN. These pieces – under the influence of intersecting lines, light and shadow, as well as the continuously changing perspective of the viewer – evoke the illusion of movement or vibration.
What are you currently working on?
At the moment, I am conceptualising work in new formats and contemplating the 'internal' versus the 'external' aspects. In some respects, this has much to do with language, chronological thought processes and methodology, but sometimes also with individual thoughts, ideas, situations, stories, memories and objects that surround or intrigue me. I am fascinated by what connects these starting points and what they lead to when the inside is turned outward and made visible. What connects the original with the taken-out-of-context and relocated? What can be visibly turned outward yet retain its recognisability? It all revolves around the question of what functions in this context and what becomes disrupted. It is an idea I have been pondering for a while, so it is growing and evolving.