11 may 2021, Manuela Klerkx
Jan van Imschoot | Gefundenes Fressen
Jan van Imschoot (1963, Ghent) does not believe in fairy tales and that is why he makes them himself. That seems like a paradox, can you make something you don't believe in? But his paintings prove this it is possible. The speculative space between what was or seems and what could or perhaps should have been is his playground. Between truth and symbolism, along ornaments and motifs, he searches the past in search of hidden treasures that reveal a possible secret about our humanity. This "condition humaine", which is tragic and pitiful, endearing and comical at the same time, forms the basis for his painted, often exuberant fairy tales. Some of his paintings remind me of "La Grande Bouffe", Marco Ferreri’s black comedy from 1973 in which the four protagonists literally go down in a weekend of sex and binge-eating. The film ends with a bizarre scene of a garden where the geese wander among the pieces of meat, while all the dogs from the neighbourhood come to seize on the meat. It could have been a painting by Jan entitled "Gefundenes Fressen".
Actually, I would have liked to visit Jan van Imschoot, the self-proclaimed "anarcho-baroque" artist, in his studio, were it not for the fact that it is in the French Ardennes and too many reasons are currently holding me back from travelling there. Still, I hope to be able to interview him again in his studio and listen to his stories while enjoying a good glass of wine. Maybe in a local cafe in the French countryside. Because Jan is a true storyteller, both In words and pictures. And because of his flamboyant talent for painting, I dare to assume that he is not only a misanthropist who loves black humour, but also a true bon vivant and a gourmand. The abundance of food and drinks that spring from his canvases while you can hear the silver cutlery and the crystal glasses ringing - due to the subtle effect of the light in combination with the transparent and glossy paint - make me suspect this. And then we are not even talking about the feminine beauty that he can bring to life on the canvas with so much love and attention for skin and hair.
Jan paints fairy tales for which he first has to crack the codes of an ancient secret language. And to be able to do so, he has been diving into Western (art) history for more than thirty years, which he tries to unravel day in and day out. Not for old times’ sake, but to better understand the tragic fate of man. And for that, according to Van Imschoot, you should not take a work of art too literally, but rather look for what it tries to conceal; so for clues to bring the hidden to life:
Literary language has the function of naming and describing things. Ornamentation, motifs and symbolism provide a different view of our history through their connotations. As a result, one can develop a varied view of the origins of current situations, and hopefully arrive at solutions.
This Burgundian, who grew up on Belgian soil, looks for the main story in the details and in the distortions of those same details. And he does this by looking for the figurative meaning behind the literal one in order to make new connections and to nullify existing interpretations and identifications or to view them from a different perspective. And it is precisely in that space between reality and fiction that he creates his paintings:
Only a Catholic artist can say, "Ceci n'est pas une pipe." Because to a Protestant, a pipe can only be a pipe. For a Catholic, something can also have a symbolic meaning and thus transcend its literal meaning.
In this context, Van Imschoot mentions the work of the painter and peer René Daniëls, admired by him, which is full of symbolism because he uses a "double language": that of the image in combination with the word. He finds those puns and titles of Daniel's work beautiful and of great poetic beauty: 'Eindhoven not Eindhoven', 'Spray Armée', 'Historia Mysteria', 'Memoirs of a forgetful', etc. And for Van Imschoot there is no doubt about it: Daniëls is a Belgian artist and that's it.
Jan Van Imschoot. Le motif de l'incontrôlable, 2019, Galerie Templon.
Since the late eighties, Van Imschoot has been working with great furore on an oeuvre that floats between representation and imagination, reality and fantasy and is full of erotic, political and religious motifs and ornaments. He certainly does not shy away from the grotesque and the tragic. An avid reader of "unruly" doom-leaning writers such as Paul Léautaud, Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Curzio Malaparte, Charles Baudelaire, Georges Bataille, James Joyce, Michel Houellebecq and Arthur Schopenhauer, nothing human is alien to him. In any case, ornaments and motifs run like a guide through his oeuvre and form a language that allows us to interpret the painted image at different levels. In "La poubelle artistique" Bart Cassiman writes in this regard:
He [Jan van Imschoot, MK] mercilessly confronts us with images that give testimony to human deficiency - la condition humaine, if you like - but at the same time he puts this into perspective, well aware that what prompts people to commit terrible acts is simply part of its nature. The suffering, the fear, the horror, the gruesome death, the absurdity of existence. His images show the human condition in all its aspects that take into account but also transcend the existentialism of the 20th century. In order to make this harsh reality and the even harder determination of it somewhat palatable, Van Imschoot often uses a dose of humour by means of language - in the form of a title - or by twisting the motif. In all sorts, shapes and colours, so to speak: from an unsightly wink – either visually or with a word, or fragments of sentences and even whole pieces of text - to sarcasm, cynicism and black or even very morbid humour. Van Imschoot has a wide palette of relativizing ways to alter such heavy themes into something that seems lighter.
While he may like to celebrate life, human deficit and the accompanying human suffering (or vice versa) certainly will not escape Van Imschoot’s attention either, he will not allow himself to be bullied by it. With Daniëls he shares his 'amused handling of reality', just as the great Belgian masters Magritte and Broodthaers did before them. But more than with the aforementioned, Van Imschoot realizes this by offering the viewer the opportunity to constantly discover new meanings in what at first sight is a traditional genre such as a still life, a banquet or a portrait. By constantly misleading the viewer, he often does not know exactly what he is looking at because "concept, form and language are constantly leapfrogging each other." [Bart Cassiman, MK]. Surreal titles such as' I hate to see / I hate the sea '(1996),' Two lips, the mania '(1999),' The End is Never Near '(1996),' Fellow the follow '(2000)and ‘Rire comme dans mourire' (2001) will do the rest.
In a short film on the occasion of the exhibition 'Le bouillon de 11 heures' (2020, Galerie Templon), Jan tells - visibly amused - about the commandment that the Calvinists imposed on the Catholics to limit themselves to' things that we to perceive our own eyes', as well as to 'historical pieces and portrayals of what has taken place in history'. That is why a secret language developed that only the Catholics understood: for example, the walnut symbolized the Holy Trinity but also the suffering of Christ, and the reflection of a window frame on a glass had the meaning of a cross:
And so it came to pass that when the ladies left the room and the cigar-smoking gentlemen remained, they had fun searching for sexual connotations and deciphering existing symbols. In this way they projected their own imagination on the canvas. It was a game between the literal language and that of the image. A tradition that has been lost in the Netherlands but is still very much alive in Belgium. Partly thanks to painters such as Rops, Wiertz, Magritte and Broodthaers, but also thanks to the comic strips. Still lifes are a great way to discover symbolism and speak a dual language.
At Ballroom Project, Van Imschoot shows a number of works that he made in the run-up to the exhibition 'Le bouillon de Onze heures'. This 17th century French phrase refers to a dying person's last meal as well as a moment of comfort. For these paintings he investigated the relationship between motifs and ornaments in the still-lifes of the Haarlem-born painter Willem Claeszoon Heda (1594-1680).
Jan Van Imschoot. Le bon Duc, 2019, Galerie Templon.
For example, the painting "Le Bon Duc" represents a prototype of a Burgundian duke created by Van Imschoot himself, based on many people in the region where he lives. This "Bouduin le Rouquin" (Baldwin the Redhead) shows all the characteristics of a possible duke including minor flaws. You could have bumped into him like that. "Gefundenes Fressen," said Van Imschoot.
'La folie de la mauvaise perspective' is a diptych of the portraits of Joanna of Castile and Philippe I the Fair, the parents of Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor. They are not their true portraits but those of two figures depicting the royal couple. Joanna the Mad is adorned with the 'Golden Fleece', an accessory that was definitely to be worn by women at the time. Are we looking at history from the wrong perspective - "la mauvaise perspective" - or from the correct, or should I say corrected, perspective of women's liberation?
In 'Le motif de l'incontrôlable' the biblical character Judith is depicted with the severed head of Holofernes, the leader of the Assyrian army. This story, apocryphal to the Jewish and Protestant faith, is about the victory of the Jewish people over the Assyrian army. A legend that became known in Western art history through the paintings of Caravaggio and Artemesia Gentileschi. In "Le motif de l'incontrôlable" we see how Judith happily smokes a cigarette: a symbol of complacency after making love. However, Holofernes, the big loser, is too drunk to raise his love pole, giving Judith the opportunity to decapitate him in two strokes.
I painted a yellow circle around Judith's right eye. The circle is a symbol of the infinitely returning life, while the colour yellow was used to stigmatize Jews. For example, during the Inquisition they were obliged to wear a yellow cap and during the Nazi regime they had to sew the yellow Star of David on their clothes. How sarcastic can a symbol behave?
Last but not least, I realize that the "double language" I am talking about above is translated into French as "double langue". And "double langue" can be translated into Dutch in two ways: as "double language" and "double tongue". I bet Jan could appreciate this.
