Antoine Peters' artistic journey began on the catwalk, where he approached fashion as a total experience comprising form, music and image. To an outsider, it may seem as if he has transitioned to art, but he sees no sharp divide between fashion, art and design. “Fashion can be art and vice versa.” Textile, clothing and the human body have always been the main components of his work, only in a different form.
Peters considers clothing the ultimate everyday object. He stretches, introduces repetition and crops garments. This creates a new visual language full of surrealistic and abstract elements, with a tension between space and non-space, chaos and order. "My goal is to break down the traditional relationship between the viewer and garment and to evoke emotion and imagination. I want to create a feeling of slowing down, of imbalance and a changing perspective."
SOFT! featuring work by Antoine Peters, Joana Schneider, Mae Engelgeer, Yamuna Forzani, Julia Kiryanova, Sofie Aaldering, Anne von Freyburg, Simone Post and Mina Abouzahra is on display at Rademakers Gallery in Weesp until 26 November.
Where is your studio and what does it look like?
My studio is located in Pakhuis Wilhelmina on the IJ in Amsterdam. It's inspiring to be surrounded by all kinds of different forms of creativity, from painters to multimedia artists and ceramicists. The 45-minute bike ride from home is manageable for me, as someone from the Achterhoek region. I love having the wind in my face in the morning and evening—and no, I don't have an electric bike!
Fortunately, my studio doesn't have views of the IJ; that would distract me too much. My work, such as Soft Dots, is inspired by my daily ferry crossing. While everyone is hunched over, I daydream, captivated by the gentle waves of the water.
What makes a good studio space for a textile artist?
For my textile art, I need a large table that is at least a metre-and-a-half wide and several meters long. The standard width of fabric rolls is 1.4 metres. More daylight would be nice, but my daylight lamps do the job. I often go outside to better examine the textiles and make choices. Colour is fluid and shades can change by the minute. My studio is fairly deep, which is practical, especially when I have to turn sleeves as long as 130 metres inside out. I end up walking back and forth for hours.
If I spent a day with you, what would that day look like?
Every day is different, depending on what project I’m working on. I'm usually in my studio before nine, with music playing all day. During production work, I listen to Release Radar or Discover Weekly, but when I need to concentrate, I choose instrumental music that can put me in a trance.
One day, I might be working into the night at the sewing machine, making dance outfits for a piece by Roshanak Morrowatian, while the next day, I might be airbrushing my mother's hand or working on a concept for a community project. I recently had the opportunity to use a giant wind machine. For a hotel room in Modez, I recreated the space in miniature in my studio, setting patchwork in motion with wind. Between projects, I teach as a freelancer at academies like HKU, Artemis and the Design Academy.
Congratulations on your participation in Soft! Can you tell us a little about the work on display?
In my work, I view the space around the garment as being equally important as the textile creation itself. This leads to an intuitive exploration of the surrounding space. Some of my work is currently on display at Rademakers Gallery.
I consider clothing to be the ultimate everyday object, which I stretch, introduce repetition into and crop in various ways. This creates a new visual language full of surrealistic and abstract elements, with a tension between space and non-space, chaos and order. My goal is to disrupt the traditional relationship between viewer and garment, evoking emotion and fantasy. I aim to create a sense of deceleration, imbalance and shifting perspective.
This notion is also reflected in my Soft Dots, currently on view at Soft! For each large work, I create preliminary studies, often compositions of second-hand clothing and leftover fabrics. I respond intuitively to colours and textures. Each composition is unique; I look for the right balance in diameter and proportions. My inspiration comes from the sculptural approach of Cristóbal Balenciaga to textiles, the reliefs of Jan Schoonhoven, Josef Albers' colour studies and the frozen drapery on saint statues in churches.
The process of working with textile—stuffing, folding, pushing, stretching and pulling—is visible and tangible in the final result. It's incredibly calming to lose myself in the folds, textures and colours. The dot is a focal point in this turbulent sea of textiles, a meditative artwork inviting reflection. The dot symbolises creation and a new beginning.
You come from the fashion world, so when did you make the transition? Did you wake up one day wanting to become an artist or was this a gradual process?
I never saw a sharp distinction between fashion, art and design. Fashion can be art and vice versa. Sometimes, we even hang garments on the wall at home as art objects. My journey began on the catwalk, where I approached fashion as a total experience comprising form, music and image. Since then, my work has evolved at the cutting edge of art, fashion and architecture. Textile, clothing and the human body have always been core elements of my work. Over the past 20 years, I've continuously developed ideas for textile sculptures and space-filling installations, leading to hundreds of sketches. Initially, I kept these to myself, like a diary. Since the birth of my eldest son, Alf, this process has accelerated. I encourage Alf to be himself, free from the opinions of others. This message became a mirror for myself, prompting me to share my drawings with the public. The realisation that I didn't know exactly what I wanted to express, but that creating these works was valuable in itself, was enough to start.
You haven’t completely left fashion, as fashion's relation to the human body remains the subject of your work. Why do you aim to make people observe more slowly and alter their perspective?
In today’s society, people are fast to judge. My goal is to offer a new or nuanced perspective on the everyday, the world and especially on ourselves. If people are forced to look, feel or think twice, we develop greater empathy and awareness. We then take better care of the wonderful world we share. I advocate avoiding violence and judgment and instead strive for touch, empathy and softness. Inspired by the Fugees' classic, my recent series of wall works Killing Me Softly revolves around connection, beauty and hope.
I believe in the power of slowing down and wonder! My favourite quote is by George Bernard Shaw: "You see things and say 'Why?' But I dream and say 'Why not?'" I’d also title my future solo exhibitions at Voorlinden, Stedelijk or Guggenheim, But I Dream.
A description that comes up often in texts about your work is ‘emotional sustainability’. What does that mean to you?
By emotional sustainability I mean that I don't just want to stretch textiles and clothing, but also the mind of the viewer. Sources of inspiration like surrealism and the ZERO movement play a major role in this. My work aims for spiritual circularity in which fantasy and reality are continually intertwined. This counters consumerism and raises awareness about the abundance of existing clothing.
It’s about revaluing our relationship with clothing and textile. Most people don’t give thought to the processes and people behind their clothing. We have blankets at home made four generations ago. We take good care of these items. I also cherish my favourite coat, which belonged to my father and is now 50 years old. While it’s possible to have bought many new coats in that time, an emotional bond makes people treat possessions more sustainably.
Emotion and art are incredibly powerful. One of my favourite artworks is Mondrian's Victory Boogie Woogie. It’s abstract, just paint and tape, and even unfinished. Yet it moves me every time I stand in front of it. I have a print of it in my studio as a reminder that art matters.
The hands in your works look realistic. Do you make these yourself and whose hands are they?
For my sculptures, I often use second-hand clothes and shoes that I’ve worn for years—items marked by use, as silent witnesses of their past. I also make hands and feet, sculpted based on my loved ones. For example, there’s my mother’s hand balancing a rolled-up sleeve of 40 metres and my son Alf’s hand holding a red helium balloon—a universal symbol of loss, vulnerability and hope, inspired by the French film Le Ballon Rouge.
Creating these hands was an unexpectedly emotional process. Sculpting—holding and layering over days—felt like a way to embed my loved ones in my work. These personal elements serve as a tribute and an attempt to place a part of myself and my loved ones outside of time, like a photograph.
Your work is found not only in galleries and museums, but also in community projects. Can you tell us a little about that?
In a temporary studio in a disadvantaged neighbourhood in Tilburg, people were invited to create a piece of a sleeve with almost complete freedom. More than 400 people ages 7 to 70 expressed themselves through this project. The result was a hoodie with sleeves 211 metres long, presented at a neighbourhood event. It was moving to see how this creative process empowered people and connected them with others they may not normally meet.
Using something as everyday as clothing, people can be introduced to something new—whether it's a new idea, friendship or the joy of creating. As an artist, I find it important to give something back to society.
What are you currently working on?
At the moment, I’m further exploring the symbiosis between the body, clothing and textile. I feel a growing need to incorporate more colour and prints into my work. I’m also researching ways to realise and fund my larger, immersive concepts. I want to create more large-scale works that fill spaces and I’m interested in exhibiting my work in public spaces. What fascinates me most about this is the spontaneous, chance encounters with a wide audience who might not otherwise come into contact with my work.
In recent years, I’ve also become increasingly interested in human anatomy, particularly hands. This interest is reflected in stacks of drawings of my own hands. I’m curious to see where this will lead!