What does the ideal artist’s studio look like? How much time does an artist spend there? Is it a sacred place? This week in 'The Artist’s studio' series: Job Koelewijn, whose solo exhibition is on display at Galerie Fons Welters until 30 July.
Do you visit your studio every day?
Usually at least five days a week. That is important, indeed. I work in various styles, that is an existential choice, and extremely challenging. It means that I work on many series at the same time – I already did that at the academy, by the way – and consequently have to rest a lot.
At the academy, you are to paint in the morning, and it has to be finished by 4 pm, and if it's not good then it's a failure. That is not the case with me. When it becomes a job, I'll stop. I can’t do it if I'm pushing myself to finish things, if it doesn't go organically.
My reading project is a good example of this: reading for 45 minutes every day is not much, but the rhythm and continuity make it special.
What time do you leave for your studio, and how: on foot, by bicycle, public transport or car?
I leave at 10:00, usually by bike. It is 1800 metres cycling, I cycle home twice a day. I don't always go to work, but feeling the energy, being there, that's very important. If I had the opportunity again, I would prefer to have a studio at home.
Do you hold on to certain rituals in your studio? Music or silence?
I do listen to music but not during work; somehow music distracts me. At home, I like to listen to punk and new wave and classical music. The point is: music puts you in a certain state, but doesn't take you one step further. Sometimes interns have to get used to that. It is quiet in the studio.
I've had a ritual for over sixteen years: I read a book out loud for forty-five minutes in the morning, after breakfast, for the simple purpose of sharpening my mind. Usually, that ritual is completed around half past nine, and I then leave for my studio.
How important is light to you?
How important is light? You can also ask: how important is breathing. When I give a lecture I sometimes say: the first row keeps its eyes closed for ten minutes, the second row holds its breath for ten minutes. Then you see how important light is! Light in itself is the essence of life, life would be terrible without light, a life in the dark seems unimaginable to me, but in my case, I tend to work more from the idea; I have artificial light in my studio, I have installed booths there, so for me it is a combination of the two.
What does your work process look like? Do you work everywhere and all the time or does work only commence the moment you enter your studio?
Mentally it goes on pretty much 24/7; the creative process is extremely time consuming, we are constantly making new versions. My work is communicated in different grammars, which I have always aspired to from the beginning; to do justice to those different grammars in their own visual language, and that is hard work. Ultimately, it's about getting the work to a certain aesthetic level, so that the work itself releases energy.
I don't do it all alone, by the way, I need help with that, which I get it from my girlfriend, from the gallery and from Jim van Hekke, with whom I've been working together in my studio for two years: our collaboration is great.
You can see it this way: Dante didn't write the Divina Commedia from a religious perspective. He knew: It won’t work like that, I have to write from 'the beautiful', and if I write about a farmer it must be from a farmer's point of view, and if I write about a prostitute it must be written from her perspective.
That also works for me: I try to use the properties of the materials, they have their own presence. Material should speak for itself. Like I imbue cassettes with my voice. This has to do with time and with listening. I always have such overlaps, that makes art interesting for me. When I'm not in my studio I listen to ‘the art market’, but once I’m back inside I – thankfully - forget what the market has to say within five minutes.
How much time do you spend on average per day in your studio?
I spend a significant part of my time doing nothing, listening to the work. You have to gain confidence in that in the long run, I would recommend to everyone: 'don't push the river'.
I am more Taoist than Zen: 'You have to learn to work without efforts,' says Lao Tse. Putting work aside ensures that a solution will arise naturally. Doing nothing is very constructive and active. That's where the growth is, that's where the insight is. In China they see Taoism as a philosophy of lazy people, but not me, I am happy if I experience a few drops of that philosophy from time to time.
Is your studio a sacred place?
I would like to avoid that word. I have a religious background, and I have largely left that behind. Sacredness has a paralysing effect on me. Or spiritual. Those words have no meaning anymore. After all, a studio is also just a place where people work. I could leave that place again and then the energy would go to another place. The place is made sacred, because it is not in the people. Instead I look for the sacred in myself, only I prefer to see sacredness as a form of energy.
Do you receive visits there; collectors, curators or fellow artists?
Of course, I like to meet people who are interested in my work in my studio. It must make sense, because then someone can also feel that energy. I think it's important that there is no hierarchy in the studio. I need people, but the artistic decisions are only made by me. That’s a different story when it comes the execution of a work: I make physical things, but I only have one hand, so cutting has to be done by others. Having said that, I always start working from an idea, not from my handicap.
What is the most beautiful studio you have ever seen?
I don't immediately have a studio that comes to mind, but I imagine that it is very important for a painter how the light falls. In my foundational year at the Rietveld Academy, they showed a film was about Willem De Kooning in his Coney Island studio, and what impressed me most at the time was a detail that I have never forgotten: he pressed out the tubes of paint with a kind of steel tube.
What does the ideal studio look like?
A simple space with windows at the front and equipped with the basic amenities. However, the most important thing is: either you are the owner, or you have a very affordable long-term lease. If you have a very cheap studio, continuity is much more guaranteed. You see, in this respect I am very Taoist too.