06 february 2024, Wouter van den Eijkel
The studio of... Bram De Jonghe
"Big thinking can also happen in small spaces," says Bram De Jonghe about his relatively compact studio in a former school building in the Scheveningen Harbour. "A studio is a place for practice, for training your brain, for playing and for reflecting after I'm done playing."
This sentiment epitomises this Belgian artist. In his sculptural work, De Jonghe (BE, 1985) employs absurdism, humour and logic to evoke emotion in viewers. According De Jonghe, reason already occupies enough space in our society. "First and foremost, I want to elicit an emotional response in the viewer, leaving reason behind. In our feelings, we are all equal."
‘Après nous, les mouches’ is a West Flemish saying that can be interpreted in various ways, from casual and fatalistic to a sense of responsibility. "All interpretations contradict each other, which is exactly what art does." Après nous, les mouches can be seen at DMW Gallery in Antwerp until 9 March.
Where is your studio and how would you describe it?
My studio is located near the Scheveningen Harbour in The Hague in the Netherlands. It's a former school building that was squatted in the 1970s by its previous occupants. The property is currently owned by the ‘De school’ foundation, which gives me long-term rental certainty.
My studio is quite compact, around 30 square metres, and is the former shower area with a toilet and sink. It has a door with a window overlooking the garden, but apart from that, natural light is scarce. The studio is around 120 cm above street level, so I've constructed a platform in the garden, which lets me access the studio door. This also makes it possible for me to work outdoors.
What makes a good studio for you? Plenty of storage or work space, friends nearby, natural light?
I work with materials that take up a lot of space and I prefer not to haul them through the building. My studio functions as a mobile workshop with five stations. These include a sawing table for iron, a welding table with a vice, a table for small hardware, another for machinery and hand tools and a table with a pillar drill, as well as accessories and materials like paint, glue and drawing paper. I also have a vacuum cleaner and welding machine mounted on a router table. There’s a metal rack in the hallway for long steel parts.
All five stations are on wheels with brakes, so I can rearrange them to make more space as needed. I also have two permanent requirements: three-phase power and a ventilation system for welding fumes. I've invested in high-quality LED lighting to ensure that every detail is well illuminated. The studio walls are as perfectly lit as in any museum. Working in an environment where light imposes stringent requirements is crucial for me. My studio is where I aim to achieve results as quickly as possible. It's a space where nothing should feel out of place, and where desire and play reign supreme.
Bram De Jonghe, Suspension feeder, 2023, DMW Gallery
You don't shy away from grand gestures in your work. In your opinion, what would be the perfect studio?
To me, the perfect studio is a warehouse with a loading dock located on the ground floor, with white walls all around and north-facing skylights. But I don’t think the size of a studio really matters. Big thinking can take place in small spaces. A studio is a place for practice, for training your brain, for playing and for reflecting after I'm done playing. But, of course, playing in a larger space alters the dynamics.
Congratulations on your exhibition at DMW, Après nous, les mouches! Most readers are probably familiar with the variant by Louis XIV, Après moi, le déluge (After me, the flood). Does your title carry a similar meaning and what inspired it?
The title of an exhibition acts as a boundary between the public and the artist. Typically established post-ceasefire, it serves as a temporary solution until a final agreement on boundaries is reached.
Après nous, les mouches resonates with the fin-de-siècle sentiment of today. On one hand, there's cynicism, pessimism, escapism and decadence, while on the other hand, there's revolution. This saying is prevalent in West Flemish. Initially, it leads to a fatalistic and self-satisfied stance: "After us, the flies." Regardless of what happens, we have no control once we're gone. This saying is highly context-sensitive. While it can be interpreted as fatalistic, it also conveys a message of responsibility. Our mortality and imminent end prompt us to take action today.
After a hard day's work, these words are often uttered in Flanders, marking the end of the day with a beer. The challenge of encapsulating such a saying within the concept intrigues me. All interpretations contradict each other, which is exactly what art does.
Bram De Jonghe, Untitled, 2023, DMW Gallery
In some of your work in this exhibition, you combine natural elements with pieces of steel or aluminium, like an animal bone sandwiched between two steel beams. What fascinates you about this juxtaposition?
It's not the contradiction in itself that interests me, but rather the resemblance. Muscles and tendons form the bone, temperature affects the steel and the surface tension of iron reveals a visual language that parallels the bone through cold manipulation. While the pressure from the bone on the steel tubes might have caused the impact, we observe the opposite. Interpretation and imagination don't always align.
The press release for Après nous, les mouches mentions that if there's a lack of rational grounds to appreciate art, we approach it from an emotional standpoint. Why do you aim for this with viewers and what do you believe it contributes to?
The quantifiable often dominates, becoming the moral standard. Everything is incessantly measured until it becomes immeasurable. Society obsessively relies on statistics to avoid confronting emotions. First and foremost, I want to elicit an emotional response in viewers, leaving reason behind. In our feelings, we are all equal.
Bram De Jonghe, Untitled, 2023, DMW Gallery
Given the often absurd and whimsical nature of your work, could you explain your approach to creating the sculptures in Après nous, les mouches?
Every artist has an internal logic that may be entirely incomprehensible to the viewer. People perceive images as absurd because they appear illogical or contradictory. I embrace absurdism as a catalyst for humour. Humour plays a pivotal role in my creative process. Something may seem absurd yet still be logical. For instance: "I fit into a suit, the suit fits into my bag, so I fit into my bag." While this statement might conjure up images of contortionism, it follows a logical pattern in my mind. I bring elements together and then disassemble them.
On first encountering your work, particularly at 1646, I found it both light-hearted and humorous without bordering on the ironic or vulgar. What's the most amusing reaction you've received to your work?
I consider that quite a compliment! The most rewarding responses occur when viewers share how they feel about your work, often providing unintentional insights. Interpretations of my work are gifts.
Bram De Jonghe, Untitled, 2023, DMW Gallery
What projects are you currently working on?
While I don't have any solo exhibitions lined up at the moment, I’m always craving them because they provide me with the impetus to experiment with new ideas. I'm constantly searching for associative connections. I slave away in my studio, exploring unconventional patterns. I derive immense satisfaction from creating and testing ideas. I'm particularly excited about making a functional, solid gold mousetrap entitled Rich or poor, mice at the door.
I have a list of ideas awaiting the perfect opportunity. While each exhibition presents possibilities, some concepts continue to linger without materialising. I want to give shape to these latent ideas. I also have ambitious plans for a book, though I often struggle with its perceived pretentiousness and end up abandoning the idea. Perhaps I need to acclimate myself to these endeavours before fully embracing them.
