07 april 2024, Wouter van den Eijkel
The studio of... Sara Bachour
Can you make the right choices and decisions when anything seems possible? The pressure on younger generations is immense, so much so that many young people are already struggling with burnout before they reach 30. That's what 'The Burn-out Society', the group exhibition currently on display at PontArte, is all about.
Bachour's work, Helping Hands, is on display at the exhibition, a work of art consisting of pillows with hand gestures she encountered in self-help videos during the pandemic. From the source material, it might sound like a light and ironic subject, but nothing could be further from the truth. For Bachour, the hands represent solidarity, comfort or agreement, yet they are just as helpful as the flat image they depict because "the human desire for community cannot be replaced by an image."
'The Burnout Society', featuring work by Sara Bachour, Elisa Verkoelen, Milena Dahl and Stef Lemmens, can be seen at PontArte in Maastricht until 21 April.
I currently have two studios. One is at Jan Van Eyck, a neat white cube with a view of old Dutch houses in Maastricht that resembles a Flemish painting. It's a luxury to have so much space because my usual studio is a workshop where I craft everything from frames to metalwork, as well as sew and paint. This studio is also in Maastricht, near the Sphinxkwartier, overlooking expansive new buildings that ground me in the reality of today.
You work with various media, such as video, installation and sculpture. What makes a good studio for you?
I'm fortunate to have a sizable studio with a wide range of tools, so I’m in complete control of my work. Organisation is key. When painting or working with textiles, I have to have a dust-free environment, so it's all about compartmentalising and timing everything right.
'The Burn-out Society' deals with the pressure put on young people to make the right choices in a society in which everything seems achievable, yet is plagued with unsolvable problems. Is this something you can relate to? Was the choice to become an artist or attend an art academy an obvious decision for you?
Growing up with an art historian mother and architect father, I was exposed to art early on, but pursuing it never seemed realistic. But when I moved to the Netherlands for love, making radical choices, pursuing art felt almost inevitable. I was attracted to art because it encompasses everything, including life itself. It satisfies my curiosity, offering an endless journey of discovery, mediation and translation. But it's not easy to ‘own’ such a decision. Society tells us that anything is possible, so failure becomes a personal problem detached from outside influences. Success is often measured in capitalist terms, yet everyone's idea of a successful life differs.
During the pandemic, I spent a lot of time in my studio. The solitude, uncertainty and fear led me to rely on the internet for comfort and company. I followed the news closely, keeping myself updated on current events, and read lots of comments under videos. It felt like being on a virtual public square where voices mingled, clashed and echoed in the digital ether. Like a curious passerby, I was drawn to diverse ideas and perspectives. Clicking through user profiles became a journey of discovery, a digital breadcrumb trail leading me deeper into each user’s intimate yet public collections.
When profiles were public, I stumbled onto collections of personal videos, some self-made or collected from other sources. Similar to the collections on teenagers' bedroom walls, these online collages offered glimpses into creators' identities and lives.
Among the myriad of content, I noticed a recurring theme: a collection of self-help videos. At the time, I could relate to their loneliness and existential fear. In some videos, gurus or self-proclaimed experts assumed authoritative roles with curated approaches to the camera.
I am aware of how body language can reinforce or contradict statements. Sometimes, I find myself distracted by people following my hand movements instead of looking at me. Are my uncertainties evident through my gestures? Watching these videos, I also found myself distracted by hand movements. I then translated the hand expressions found in self-improvement videos into flat pillows that won’t feel solid enough to hold anyone’s weight.
These big hands represent gestures of solidarity, comfort or agreement, but they are as helpful as the flat image they portray. The human longing for community cannot be replaced by a depiction.
I noticed that your more recent work often makes reference to television, the internet and chatbots. The series All of the Lives is based on stills from television documentaries, while in another work, you incorporated comments from a YouTube video, and in recent work, the interaction with a chatbot is the starting point. Why have you chosen to explore this?
I think we are highly susceptible to the influence of others, whether it's a friend talking about their favourite hiking shoes, a cartoon we watched as kids that taught us (or didn't teach us) about ‘good morals’ or an archetype in various media. Everything shapes our perception of reality.
Nowadays, we’re accustomed to living half our lives online (or spending it consuming media). Yet, no one knows the consequences of being constantly bombarded with information from companies, governments, friends, strangers and bots. In my recent work, I explore this media landscape. It feels as if I am building a petri dish in which I keep adding new bacteria.
When you come across unrelated comments or experiences with a chatbot, do you immediately want to use it as material for your work? How do you go about this?
I don’t have a method, which can be frustrating, but also very exciting because I never know when ‘nothing’ leads to ‘something’. It’s like love: it is impossible to reason consciously.
When it comes to comments, I came across them while watching a news channel. What I found striking is that they had nothing to do with the topic of the news item. It made me wonder about the reasons behind such things. I had both a negative interpretation — ‘whatever happens in the world doesn’t matter or is as relevant as the small things that happen in my everyday life’ — and a positive interpretation — ‘look, my life in its simplicity also matters’ — or it could simply be bots acting as agents of chaos. These unanswered questions are the basis of that specific work.
In the case of the AI chatbot, it was my final train of thought on AI. I was watching a video essay about the role of the character Jack in the film Titanic. In the plot, he was allowed to die because he fulfilled his role as a catalyst for Rose’s transformation. That made me think that the rise of AI has made the debate about ethics and the philosophy of being human somewhat urgent, hopefully changing the course of society. Maybe it will force us to slow down and ask ourselves who we really are.
Because you work in many different media, I’m curious about what comes first: the idea or the medium?
It’s a collaboration; I don’t consider the one separate from the other. For example, the optical properties of a grey reflective bag that resemble a digital object in real space made me fantasise about a possible outfit for a future worker trying to pretend to be a robot (and vice versa). This heightened my awareness of the AI discourse. Everything has potential.
Your work will soon be exhibited at the Bonnefanten Museum. What can we expect?
The presentation at the Bonnefanten is part of the LBK Stipendium, aimed at stimulating the work of artists living in Limburg. For this exhibition, scheduled to open on 15 June, I will be showcasing a collection of work, various stories about online encounters. I prefer not to spoil the surprise by revealing too much. But you are welcome to come and experience it.
You are currently still attending the Jan van Eyck Academy. When you complete that programme, you'll be on your own. What do you hope to achieve in the next five years?
Attending the Jan Van Eyck has already opened doors, especially in my home country of Italy, which is incredibly exciting.
What are you currently working on?
At the moment, I’m working on a few ceramic statues of lizards on modems. The idea originated from seeing a post on Reddit with someone asking why a gecko was returning every day to sit on their internet router. I found that this image, in all its simplicity, conveyed an aspect of our relationship with technology: when there’s nothing else, any source of ‘warmth’ will do.
