'The veil is the story' is the mysterious title of a solo exhibition with work by Matijs van de Kerkhof. The ‘veil’ in the title is a metaphor for reality. According to the theory of nondualism, we project our stories onto a veil, but those stories say nothing about the veil itself. In Van de Kerkhof’s panels, those stories take the form of animals.
Van de Kerkhof draws from classical Greek literature, old folk tales and the 19th-century British poet Edward Lear. These sources all establish a connection between the animal world and human consciousness. In these traditions, animals serve as omens of good fortune or misfortune, and in alchemical imagery, they symbolise states of consciousness and transformation. "It fascinates me that humans have been observing animals since ancient times in understanding their place in the grand scheme of things."
'The veil is the story' by Matijs van de Kerkhof can be seen at Galerie Wilms in Venlo until 27 February.
Where is your studio and how would you describe it?
My studio is at home in Nuenen. I usually work in the living room, at the table where I also eat. But I would love to have a space in a building with other artists in a dynamic environment.
What are the essential features of a studio for you — natural light, ample storage, colleagues and friends or nature nearby?
What I currently miss is interaction with colleagues, but I can essentially create work anywhere — all I really need is running water and light.
What does a typical workday look like? Do you start early, do you listen to music or work in silence and do you welcome visitors or only after your work is finished?
A typical workday starts in the morning. I usually work from 10 AM to 4 PM. I often play music — right now, Berthold Brecht is on the turntable. I work alone and visitors are a rare exception.
Congratulations on 'The veil is the story'! That’s a mysterious title. How did you came up with it?
The title 'The veil is the story' is based on a concept from the theory of nondualism: reality is like a veil onto which we project our own stories, but these stories say nothing about reality itself. The mystery lies in an unknowable reality that can only be approached through images and narratives.
I read that you were inspired by classical Greek literature, old folk tales and the 19th-century British poet Edward Lear — quite a range of sources! What do you believe they have in common?
These sources all establish a connection between the animal kingdom and human consciousness. We have a magical connection with animals — take the Egyptian gods and astrology, for instance. Animals also serve as expressions of moral principles (as in Aesop's fables) or represent our alienation from nature. In folk tales, animals often serve as omens of good or bad fortune. In alchemical imagery, animals are used to symbolise states of consciousness and transformation. It fascinates me that humans have always observed animals in trying to make sense of their place in the world.
Just out of curiosity, is there a particular folk tale that appears in 'The veil is the story'?
One example is the tale of the robins. The story goes that the robin's red breast was stained by the blood of Christ when it tried to remove the nails from the cross. In my interpretation, I depict a torn-open rabbit, from which a group of robins emerges.
Your panels feature everyday objects like a bunch of grapes, a piece of meat and a rose. By painting these subjects, you place them within an artistic tradition. Is passing on this visual tradition important to you?
I’m not necessarily interested in passing on a particular artistic tradition. I always start with an idea and that idea dictates my approach and themes. Some work, such as the grapes, takes on a different context within the overall narrative atmosphere of the other work — you can sense a story emerging by seeing them as part of a larger whole. I am not rigid or purist in my approach. Sometimes, I’m captivated by a certain style — whether influenced by graffiti, raw expressionism or classical painting.
The common thread is this: how do I deconstruct familiar elements and reassemble them? To me, this is the essence of art (solve et coagula — dissolve and reassemble, an alchemical concept), which allows a new context to emerge.
The exhibition text states that by painting these subjects, you want to show that our view of the past is not static but constantly evolving. Can you elaborate on that?
History is written by the victors. The current tendency to erase everything associated with a dark period shows how malleable our perception of the past is. The same happens on a personal level — your perspective on your childhood shifts as you grow older. Contexts constantly change. In that sense, our experience of life is nonlinear and time is an illusion of continuity.
If you hadn’t become a painter, what would you have become and why?
I originally worked in healthcare, but painting kept calling me — or at least, expressing myself in some form. But if I had to choose something else, I think I would have enjoyed a career in crime — maybe as a forger. That seems thrilling to me.
The year has just begun. What’s in store for 2025?
I’m working with writer Maurice van Turnhout on a trilogy of graphic novels called Lichtstadfamilie about three generations of a family from Eindhoven. This year, we’re working on part two. Other than that, I continue to work on my paintings and have submitted applications for several open calls.
What are you currently working on?
Right now, I’m creating a series of small, elongated paintings featuring mundane objects — bitterballen, an old-fashioned telephone cord, a candle, etc. I’m also delving into the work of William Blake to explore ways to relate to it.