5 Artists Interviews #1 Artists Friends by Kim Engelen

5 ART _ISTS

INTERVIEWS __#1 ARTISTS FRIENDS

FEDERICA BUONSANTE ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ FRANS HUISMAN LYNN MARIE KIRBY LIBBY PAGE

KIM ENGELEN

5 ART _ISTS INTERVIEWS

INTRO KIM ENGELEN

PAGE 05

FEDERICA BUONSANTE

PAGE 06

ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ

PAGE 14

FRANS HUISMAN

PAGE 26

LYNN MARIE KIRBY

PAGE 44

LIBBY PAGE

PAGE 60

COLOPHON

PAGE 71

INTRO This is the first book in a series of theme.

5 books, each with their unique

For this first book, I interviewed of my artist-friends. These are in alphabetical order: Federica Buonsante (Italy), Đejmi Hadrović (Slovenia), Frans Huisman (Netherlands), Lynn Marie Kirby (USA), and Libby Page (UK).

Each interview was sent via email and holds questions about their art. With the first question as a sort of introduction question on how we met. There is an extra wild card question for the interviewed artist to have the last say. Regarding linguistic style mistakes, we decided to let them stay in. This way it reflects that we are a diverse collection of international people with different nationalities. Which gives it more color and makes it less homogeneous—which we hope you agree is a good thing in the arts.

Enjoy! Kim Engelen

FEDERICA BUONSANTE --▶ ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ FRANS HUISMAN LYNN MARIE KIRBY LIBBY PAGE

Federica Buonsante 1 --▶ Federica, we met in China where I was looking for contemporary artists influenced in their work by Chinese Culture. You were at that time a Ph.D. fellow at the Shanghai Academy of Arts and working for the Institute for Public Art. We were fortunate to meet just before you went back to Italy and you joined my curated project “Art Park—Intimate Gatherings”. You told me that you define your art as performance-based, socially engaged public art. When I first read about your art, I felt I was reading my ideas on art but from a different perceiving angle and I felt immediately connected with you and your art. It was a big surprise to me as well. When I read about “Art Park —Intimate Gatherings”. I thought it was such an amazing idea that of re-creating a natural space for human interaction. Nature is art, we were born out of nature! At that time of the year I was preparing to discuss my doctoral dissertation, our meeting was not just a chance to prove my ideas, but also to confront myself in a less sophisticated context, non-scholar one. And it helped a lot. Despite the academy I don’t like definitions very much, and it was in occasion of “Art Park —Intimate Gatherings” that I pushed myself to really dare to define my own vision of art in just few words. I see art as an authentic process, that favours human interactions, it is through social engagement that we create meaningful experience within and among the community. In Chinese they call it: 缘分 (yuanfen), as to express the predestined relationship that is established among individuals, well I think art can be one of the catalysts for this kind of meetings. Now I can say it: 我们有缘分 “We were meant to meet!” 2 You talk about art being the pathos of the community. And how 7

technology has shaped the way we relate to art. Can you tell us more about this? Artistic expression in ancient societies used to be a medium to connect the community with the spiritual world. It was the bridge between the tangible and the intangible world, it was directly used for its ritual functions, an opportunity to bring people together and unify them under the same roof of existence. Now I think technology has brought many changes in our mindscapes. We have more freedom to express, physical borders and places have become virtual and ephemeral so you can travel without never really moving from your chair. The bad side is that we are alienating ourselves beyond another dimension that is not physical neither spiritual. We are thinking more and more individualistically and less collectively. We are learning to think as machines, forgetting sometimes that we are just humans after all. 3 You prefer it when art has a function. It is the intention of art which is most important to you. You adhere to activism, social inclusion, education. If I am correct you promote public art, art which is not necessarily ready as a product to be consumed. Can you tell us more about this? As far as I understand it, contemporary public art is now the last shore of the contemporary art discourse. And the topic is so broad that categorising it would be misleading. I might dare to say that it probably differs from traditional art for its social function: its forms of expression are multidisciplinary and not merely object-focused, as central to the artistic production is the process of the whole artist practice. So we are very far from the speech arts for art’s sake. Public Art can be rather a catalyst for spatial and social transformation, trough social engagement and place-making. Under this realm, the artist has 8

a big responsibility: she/he is carrier of community’s values and pre-existing narratives and thus embodies the role of cultural mediator and facilitator. Within the process of public art a dialogical and yet dialectical relationship is established between people and places, the arts and people, places and the arts. 4 If art would indeed would only exist outside of the museums, biennials, exhibitions, the Internet. And only exist in the public palpable touch. In this regard, you speak of interconnections, thinking machines, communities. How do you see this? I like to think as public art as art dressed up as superhero claiming its humanising function for society. As I mentioned before, artistic expression is sometimes needed to spark dialogue and help the sustainable living of marginalised groups and communities in society. The various operational contexts might include schools, prisons, universities, small municipalities, and other public spaces. By reinterpreting, representing and engaging with communities’ identity, the art practice can reinforce the sense of belonging and the liveability of a given environment. Provocative and empowering in nature, these kind expressive forms can promote authentic participation. Art becomes a collective practice and an opportunity to reflect on social issues, to catch, dialogue and produce a practical improvement in the lives of the people. 5 Can you share with us your most successful work—to you? Why did you choose this particular piece? What makes it for you your favorite artwork? My favourite artwork so far is “Perpetual Theatre” a public space designed during an art residency for the people of Moganshan, Zhejiang Province. Entirely realized in alive bamboos it was 11

placed in a village at the feet of Mogan mountain, surrounded by the nature. The idea was to create a flexible place for meeting, and every kind of public activity, a square which shape reminds those of an amphitheatre. Theatre to me is a perfect incarnation of life. Its aim was elevate the necessity of a perpetual connection between humans and nature. The nature is symbolised by the theatre, as it is thanks to this connection that everything can happen. Wild card—What question would you like me to ask you? With this, you can go more into depth in your work or make it more fun. Or simply discard this option. All is okay.

(STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS) As artists we need to understand the mission we are fulfilled. The fact that we are free to express ourselves and have the courage to say no to preconceived notions…that is a sacred privilege and therefore it should never be taken for granted. By means we should never allow society and its preconceived notions to let us apart, and nor to let us loose in the process of crisis. We might not know what we are creating in the process but we all know we are going somewhere eventually, and that place is called possibility. The possibility to change, to transform, to empower. That is what art does. And so we provide others with the tool we have been gifted by nature. Those tools should be transferred and not should be exploited to claim ourselves as artists. But to claim ourselves as humans. And we need to enlarge this definition as much as possible. As art is the science of the human society when civilisation it was just at its earliest stages of development. Art is basic human nature. That is why in its earliest societies it wasn’t about beauty, it was about redemption. And sorry who thinks society right know needs some redemption? I won’t list any of the reasons why, but I am sure you know what I am talking about. Artist need society as much as society need artists. To integrate with the marginalised is not an option it is a responsibility. As what art can do better is to make visible the invisible. To give voice to the unspoken. And loneliness, is not an option here anymore. Solitude is the quality of our existence. We won’t just survive, we will live our existence to make the world a better place. And that place is here and now. If we stay connected, we’d already win, as we’d find out we were not just artist, we were humans.◀ 13

FEDERICA BUONSANTE ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ --▶ FRANS HUISMAN LYNN MARIE KIRBY LIBBY PAGE

Đejmi Hadrović 1 --▶ Đejmi, we met during an artist in residence in Belgrade, Serbia. But just before this I saw one of your performances at the Museum of Contemporary, Art Vojvodina in Novi Sad. There was you in the middle of the room in the spotlight. You looked like a young classy intellectual dressed in a long vest. In the back was a man dressed in black reading notes. It seemed he looked a bit uncomfortable at times by what he was reading. I was sitting at the floor so I had to be careful not to get hit by the shards of the plates that you would break on the ground. I could not understand the words that you and he were speaking. Were you speaking Serbian? But I assume it was about the “gravity” of words. And because of the dinner-plates as the objects being smashed, it made me feel it was somehow related to home and violence. So, these words probably mattered quite a lot in the performance. Would you care to tell a bit more about this? The exhibition called “Chimney Sweeping’ was led by performance and four video works of mine. The performative piece was inspired by historical event intertwined with a personal matter. The hysteric Bertha Pappenheim, who was treated at Breuer and who appeared in his studies as Anna O. has developed a complete catalogue of hysterical symptoms related to her father’s incurable disease. Anna O. became a Breuer patient in 1880 at the age of twenty-one. She showed two personalities, normal and infantile, falling into a trance during the transition. She once told Breuer in detail how a symptom appeared to her, and how that very symptom disappeared after simply talking about it. Together, they developed a special technique that she called “the talking cure,” a talking therapy, and “Chimney Sweeping,” cleaning the chimney. With this performance, I was inspired by the above-mentioned historical moment and decided to appropriate the same method of 15

talking cure and chimney sweeping by implementing the narrative of domestic violence treated in the Balkans. While paraphrasing the national Serbian law and definition of what domestic violence is, I intervened with personal anecdotes in order to illustrate the emotional impact to fill the void of a rigid bureaucratic system of state apparatus. Words were very important in this work for two reasons. First, I wanted to share an official national law of domestic violence with the audience for practical reason, simply to let them know that it exists with the hope they will use it as a tool for protection in the future. Performer, a man dressed in black reading notes, more precisely conveying national law of domestic violence, was indeed intrigued by my act, even though we had rehearsal once, only to check If his reading intonation fits my criteria. We met a day before and did not have enough time to practice all possible versions. Also, it is important to remark that neither of us is a professional actor, that is the reason why I choose to speak in Bosnian dialect and not Serbian, otherwise it would look very artificial and plane. This way it was way more honest and sincere. What made him feel uncomfortable was the way I responded with my auto-biographical events, which suggests being beaten a lot as a child, sexual assault by an older man, aggressive parent’s behaviour and etc., ... I am not an exception, this was the daily life of many children in the Balkans and sometimes when we share our stories it looks like a competition who can tell the worst one. We laugh a lot with it. That is also very Balkan—to laugh at your own misery, collectively. 2 The title of your solo-exhibition was “Unveiling the Silence”. In which you also showed four video-works. You did not call the exhibition “Breaking the Silence” which would have been too literally perhaps. Or maybe exactly the unveiling of the silence is important? I feel there might be some feminist thinking behind it 17

in regards to women’s voices, bias or bodies of knowledge. Do you want to tell a bit more about this? “Unveiling the Silence” is a title of my solo exhibition in Ljubljana as part of Red Dawn: International Feminist and Queer Festival. It is titled by my newly produced installation

which is contemporary post-conceptual artwork. It addresses the atrocities committed against the female population in the Balkan territory. The names of criminals convicted at The Hague tribunal, written on the textile are invisible to the eye until the visitor lights the UV light. With this gesture, I try to draw attention to the ignorance of the responsible higher instances and slow reaction of the state apparatus, not only in the historical moment 30 years ago in BiH, but the repeated discourse of war and violence in the 21st century. The case of war-rape in Bosnia has become a horrendous example of violence against women in the conflict zone where the straight mix of patriarchy and war strategies designed to strip away the entire population of ethnicity from a territory desired for ethnic self has been set. The reason behind this ignorance lay in the fact that the end of the Bosnian war brought a veil of silence over this socially sensitive issue. 3 Then in the contexts of our artist in residence, we gave a presentation of our works at MKM – Magacin u Kraljevića Marka, in Belgrade. And here you showed without much explanation, two of your video-works. One is called “Silent Observer”. Where we can only see your shoes. It has somehow the feeling of a girl who needs to pee and stands impatiently on one foot and then on the other. Or also some sort of old ’20 movie. The video seems black and white. Like we are missing color. We hear you talk about an experience. We don’t know if it is real or not. It is intercepted with keywords of world issues. The story leads on to let us think it is about prostitution, but near the end is it about being a female artist. It seems to be some kind of a joke. Or perhaps both stories within the world stage are a parallel? Or maybe you draw similarities? But it could very well also be about assumptions that people make without knowing the full truth—as I do now. At the end of the video you “come out” or you “go on” in your red dress. In this video it is you standing behind a vale. Again, the vale, the veiling, 19

the unveiling. Being forcefully hidden and at the same time being coquettish? Is the veil important? And if yes, how so? I wanted to create a video which is not visually heavy with information but reduced to simple semiotics since the narration is already burdened by a heavy auto-biographical story. I always try to balance both when I know that work will be perplexed with meanings. Therefore, simplicity is the answer in many cases yet the well-read viewer can understand that there is a lot more going on beneath. For instance, I used my profile shadow projection on canvas to lead my viewer to an anecdote of Plato’s cave, where those cave inhabitants are looking at their own shadows projected on the cave’s wall. Those shadows present them the only possible truth and reality. The one who escapes the cave realizes that there are several truths and realities. Therefore, I stepped out of my cave where I’m not anonymous anymore but standing there stoically, empowered by the situation. Today, we are still living in Plato’s cave with an exception that our projections are in HD. Veil indicates, among other things, the way in which Muslim women are covered, the cloak, the curtain, and the barrier. The veil is both a concrete way of segregating an individual or group of individuals from the wider society, as well as an abstract institution of such segregation. In a metaphorical sense, it can be an obstacle to harmony, community, and implies an inability to understand and participate in “Truth.” In the language of the mystics, the veil is that painful obstacle between man and nature vs. culture, rooted in human sensual or mental passions, obscures the truth and impedes man’s access to God. 4 How much do you play or build on works by previous successful artists? For example, the work “Crossing Borders” you write on your website that it is an appropriation of John Baldessari’s work 20

“I Am Making Art” (1971). And your video “Apartment 102” made me visually think of the work “I’m too sad to tell you” by conceptual artist Bas Jan Ader (1970–71). The work includes a three-minute black-and-white silent film him crying for an unknown reason. Your video is also around the same length blackand-white silent film. Although in your video you relate to being exposed to the horrifying events of the ex-Yugoslav war in 1990. In Apartment 102 victims were systematically mass raped. Brutal physical violence and even murder took place. It is an excruciatingly painful and heavy topic. Is your experimental video about the exposure to these events and thus in a way about the ongoing suffering of (mostly) women? Is it an acknowledgment of the victims—Like you stand and suffer with them? Or is it more about the fear that this could happen and might happen again? Since although you are silent in the video, you are actually not silent. Since you, without exposing the horror, you are exposing it by showing the subject (yourself) which has to see the reflections of the brutality. Do you know what I mean? You don’t explain or speak. Yet, you support by daring to address it. The context is really heavy and dark. But could you talk a bit about this? “Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery—celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.“ Jim Jarmusch [MovieMaker Magazine #53 – Winter, January 22, 2004]

In all artistic disciplines and at every epoch of art history copying, replication, reinterpretation, re-enactment, simulation, reference, citation, plagiarism—in short—the appropriation of already existing works or parts of works were and are the creation of new independent work, artistic practice and tradition. Based on the assumption that there can be no theft in art since all artistic work consists in appropriating elements of past works of art, this the conception of appropriation denies the existence of intellectual property. By choosing the theme appropriation, fundamental categories of artistic creation, such as authorship, originality and intellectual property, are to be questioned and theoretically and practically explored. Video “Apartment 102” was inspired by film director Ahmed Imamović and his movie “Belvedere” (2010). Technically speaking to be more precise, I borrowed the idea of black and white colour transition into colour, which in my work signifies movement from past to present event. The documentary “Calling the Ghosts: A Story about Rape, War and Women”, Jacobson & Jelincic (1996) was the first visualized attempt to evaluate rape during the Bosnian conflict. The film gives a personal account of two women from the Bosnian town of Prijedor. Jadranka Cigelj and Nusreta Sivac, childhood friends who both worked as lawyers were taken to a Serb concentration camp at the beginning of the conflict. Like all other Muslim and Croat women interned there, Cigelj and Sivac were systematically sexually abused and humiliated by their captors. Once released, they became human rights activists who tirelessly lobbied the UN tribunal at The Hague to define rape as a war crime. Despite sporadic mentioning in academic research focused on gender relations during the 1990s conflicts in former Yugoslavia, Sivac ‘s and Cigelj ‘s brave public appearance passed almost unnoticed in Bosnia and in the rest of the Western Balkans. It was a journalist, Roy Gutman, who in the summer of 1992 reported the first instance of systematic sexual violence 22

against women, and gained international attention on that aspect of the war in Bosnia. 5 You are soon starting with your Ph.D. studies in Vienna. What will your Ph.D. be about? Why did you choose to go for a Ph.D.? And why did you choose Vienna? Which is also being called the new capital of the Far Right in Europe. Which doesn’t make it the easiest city for any foreigner to move to. When I was officially homeless and broke, I decided to illegally occupy University in Linz for eight months where I would have been devoting my time to finish my master’s degree in Arts. In meanwhile I applied for KulturKontakt art residency in Vienna. And luckily I was selected right away when I was done with my MA. While on a residency I got an invitation to the Academy of Fine Arts by professor Dr. Marina Gržinić and my life pretty much changed. I brought some Bosnian brandy—banana flavour for this special occasion and by the end of the talk, she asked what my future plans are. I replied »PhD!« And she said: »OK,

I take you! I started my PhD in 2017, the topic of my research is Sexuality and Its Manifestation in Post-Yugoslav Cinema. I choose Vienna because the education for EU citizens is free, whilst in Slovenia, I would pay approx 3.000€ per semester. I still believe that education is a must and shall not be a privilege of rare, therefore it has to remain public, accessible and free of charge. I would not dare to polarize Vienna to far-right or leftwinged society, especially because of its past of which they are very aware of and working hard or at least harder than our neighbours to deal with collective trauma. It is crucial for us to understand that our cultural community is always fragmented into complex segments. I have to say that despite a certain group of people who make it harder to live in peace, it is also important to point out how Vienna takes care to provide for their citizens with much care and respect as possible. Here, we have great LGBT communities, good social and health system. I could definitely benefit while living here, I was awarded by several scholarships even though I have no strong political background and social capital. It is still very much possible to gain without being corrupted unlike in my home country. Wild card—What question would you like me to ask you? With this, you can go more into depth in your work or make it more fun. Or simply discard this option. Or elaborate on a previous question or thought. Everything is okay. I will make it more fun.◀

FEDERICA BUONSANTE ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ FRANS HUISMAN --▶ LYNN MARIE KIRBY LIBBY PAGE

Frans Huisman 1 --▶ We met quite a while ago in 2006, you were the artistic director of a remarkable art festival called DOEK! You have organized this festival for 8 years. It was a festival in the inner harbor of Schiedam, where you also have your gorgeous house + studio + exhibition space: Atelier Frans Huisman. The festival attracted 20.000 visitors per evening. “Doek” roughly translates itself into canvas, cloth and sail. You invited video artists to show their artwork on the sails of the boats lying in the canals of Schiedam. When on the opening night I arrived and saw my work on one of these gigantic big sails I was in awe. In my opinion, it was so in sync with the location, the maritime feeling of South-Holland and very art-oriented. The festival connected art seamlessly with life in Schiedam and I feel it was besides smart also incredibly poetic and fairytale-like. Then we met again for another exhibition in Schiedam which was also organized by you and another artist/curator Lisa van Noorden. It was a very nice group exhibition. And I remember you as an inclusive, caring, stable artist. You helped me to set up my work which consisted of a ceiling-high column of again cloth. So, from here on my thoughts of you are that you are a gently and amicable person, an incredible organizer—who can get the most wonderful projects off the ground. And…that you have something with cloth. Can you tell us what you have (or don’t have anymore) with canvas? How important is this material in your practice as a multi-media artist? And I want to stress here multi-media. Since your work ranges from painting, drawing, live-action drawings on stage, stop motion animation, photography, mixed media, sculptures, installation, theatre, and design. In the Dutch language some words change their meaning depending on the context they are used in. I love words like that. Context transforms. The word ‘doek’ has that quality. In theatre, when all actors are in place and the play is set up and ready, the 27

people back stage will say: ‘raise the curtains’. In Dutch that would be: ‘hijs het doek’. It’s a clear sign that the story is set in motion and will unveil itself, the stage is free, everything can happen, public please pay attention, “All the world’s a stage”. In my project DOEK! I took that phrase literally, the city of Schiedam was the stage. A sail of a ship is called ‘doek’, the screen in a movie theatre is called ‘doek’. The word itself helped me to connect the dots. In certain ways my studio is also a theatre. Painting is an act in itself, canvas operates as a stage. ‘Doek’ also means canvas. All materials used in the creation of a painting or drawing are fulfilling their roles. The application of paint, ink or crayon give way to endless possibilities, even the most humble dab or scratch can start a saga. The canvas is,—with surface tension, skin, reflection of light—, a true platform to unveil any hidden content or truth. ‘Doek’ also means ‘cloth or fabric’. Plenty of analogues here with storytelling: interweaving storylines, unraveling mysteries etc. The idea that a story is ‘fabricated’ and that it can ‘unfold’ and is ‘transparent’ is very appealing to me. Stories are like clothing, they fit or do not fit. You can change them: your life-story is not your life, but a story. Again a matter of perspective and context. One technical aspect of canvas that I explored extensively is its density and transparency. In DOEK! the projected imagery could be seen on both sides of the canvas/sails due to their transparency. As an extra bonus the imagery was also reflected on the water surface. So each projected image had 4 levels of presentation, a visual feast for the eyes. This miracle effect is an interplay of the strength of the light sources on both sides of the canvas and the canvas’s density, ability to reflect and absorb light. These properties make it possible to present imagery on both sides of the surface and 28

allow the perception of two images, two planes of presentation, at the same time. With these techniques images can overlap, run simultaneous,—in the case of film frames—, can synchronize with and transform each other. Tools of the trade.

Photograph: Niek Michel 29

2 I want to ask you a question that came up when I read your email. What is artistry? What should it involve for you—in your work? Is there for you some general rule of thumb? Or what would you like it to be of being an artist? I think knowledge and storytelling are important for you/in your work. Yes? What do you hope your art does to the viewer/spectator? And please also change my way of describing the audience. Maybe you have a particular audience that you want to connect with? I would like to answer these questions with a detour. Before I went to the ABK in Arnhem (Academy for Fine Art in Arnhem, now Artez) I studied Medicine at the KU (Catholic University, now Radboud University) in Nijmegen. The joke was always: do you study Medicine as a form of Science or as a form of Art (in Dutch: Geneeskunde of Geneeskunst)? Do you study the composition of the Human Body and all its (mal)functions or the Human Condition, the general circumstances of people and their cultures? The answer laid somewhere in between, but as a result of this ‘tension arc’ my professional training began multi disciplinary. I was spoon-fed on the idea that,— whatever the question or problem—you have to look at it from different angles, poke at it with all the tools in the kit, use every vocabulary available to describe the phenomenon and maybe that approach leads you to a solution, an idea, an insight, a better question. So, years later that idea is still in place, for me a work of art is always more than its physical embodiment, it can’t exist without context, without a supporting culture, without an audience. A painting in a closet doesn’t exist as a painting but as mere dead material , a work of art needs spectators to be recognized for what it is, to be valued. Cross referencing is something people do all the time. In (Pop) Culture it is part of the fun. The Marvel Universe consists of 31

an intricate woven set story lines and the public is expected to know all the subtleties to understand the full scale and scope of the telling. As it is in Greek mythology or Christianity or epic Hindu stories like the Mahabharata. The more you can bring to the table when you try to appreciate Art the better Art is served. Art flowers when connected to as many stories and references as possible. The more you know the more you get. And really new and original work, the kind you can’t know anything about, the paradigm shifting kind, is more easily recognized. In that case new story lines emerge. 3 I would like to talk more with you about your project asemic writing. I read in Wikipedia it stems from the Tang Dynasty (circa 800 CE). So, it is not a new art form. Nor does it come from the Dada movement as one might think. If we would have to order it, it would fall under what we now call abstract art. How did you come across it? And since when are you doing this? Before I knew what it was I thought you were telling us something, that it was some sort of language I could not understand. That it resonated with some sort of story that you want to tell. Now I know that it is a kind of book review. You could be seen as the explorer and as well as a global storyteller. Is this why it is called asemic writing and not for example asemic drawing? How do you see this? Could you tell us a bit more? And practically, do you set a time for yourself? How do you choose your size? Since asemic writings can be as big as a mural. And I saw since the semi-quarantine time in the Netherlands because of the COVID-19, you also do these drawings live online on Facebook (maybe more channels?). What I liked besides seeing was that with at least one I heard you say at the beginning: “Okay”. And then you started. As a kind of starting sign, as if starting the process, a conscious task, a dedicated moment, that it is something meaningful or important but also that you have to sort of exhort yourself to do it. Yet, mutually or contractible? I do think that I also have to mention the word pleasure here. Do the 32

life asemic writings stay online for viewers to see? What happens with the actual drawings? Are these important objects to you? Do you title them? Or is it more the process of doing the drawings? There is something else in this as well. It is kind of showing what others also can do. Artists or not. Everyone can be an asemic writer. Or not? How do you see this? Then you make the work with the title “85, Anthropomorphic Writing”. Which is a pen drawing from 2014, on an A3-size paper. What is anthropomorphic writing? Is it when the drawing has more human shapes as an association in them? What is the difference between asemic or anthropomorphic writing? Are your works also making communication with each other? I have always found writing, drawing and reading the most amazing thing to do. - about writing; I have a vivid memory of the first word I learned to write. It was the word ‘tree’ (in Dutch: boom). By changing only the order of the characters other meanings emerged, imagine just the miracle of that…and they represented sounds: ‘Boom, bom, bomo, moob, mobo, oom, moo, bobo’, etc. Some of these sounds I could understand as words, others were nonsensical or unknown and new or another language. Later I learned that all kinds of script are developed; warning signs, abstract depiction of scenes, situations, objects (as in Asian script), symbols etc. Some are written on paper, scratched in clay, chiseled in wood or stone or Inca style; knotted in rope! Writing and drawing are in the same continuum. Writing systems only work if the reader knows the reasoning behind it. If the code of a manuscript gets lost or is unknown to the reader the script becomes obscure and its content lost or hidden in time. Deciphering these often beautiful ancient scripts is an art and at the least a very romantic science. Jean34

François Champollion known primarily as the decipherer of Egyptian hieroglyphs is one of my heroes. So, what is not to like about writing? It is mysterious and yet precise, it’s about code and (hidden) knowledge and a sophisticated way to tell stories, connects people through time and space and is as diverse as languages come. Early on in my career I started to experiment with writing as if I were drawing or visa versa, making up ancient languages, suggest content only known to me, etc. A few years ago I discovered that there is a name for this approach. The definition: “Asemic writing is a wordless open semantic form of writing. The word asemic means “having no specific semantic content”, or “without the smallest unit of meaning”. With the nonspecificity of asemic writing there comes a vacuum of meaning, which is left for the reader to fill in and interpret”. In my experience asemic writing is close to visual poetry and music connotation and… drawing stories! - about drawing; Of all the drawing lessons at the academy, the sessions with a live model made the most impression. Our model was the dancer and choreographer Pauline Hattke. She introduced me to the world of Performance. For one of her performances, “Cancion” (1987), she asked me to make a drawing on a black rubber dancing floor. The drawing had both to anticipate her footsteps and had to follow the trail she made. I decided not to work with crayon or paint but to recreate the steps with glue and a white thin paper called trace. The paper was adjusted to the trail of glue and after a short drying period torn and ripped away, leaving a paper trail as residue. A delicate pattern of ‘torn’movement emerged. Because the public had witnessed the birth of the pattern, -the recording of the dance-, they could read the choreography. So, to be able to read signs you have to know the origin of the underlying pattern. The grammar of a language 35

consists of a set of agreements. With those agreements you can play, build. Later on in my career I worked with many more dancers and actors. Slowly I realized that drawing their actions and body language was not about portraying them, but to represent what their body was an instrument for, conveying content, what each in his or hers specific way was telling. Drawing increasingly became not about depicting an observed reality but creating one. My drawings evolved into a script called Anthropomorphic writing. (human-shaped writing) This script is still evolving and definitely belongs to the family of asemic scripts although some people can read it. [See pictures]. My work is about diversity, evolution, habitat, anatomy and structure, loss, nature, history, story telling. Drawing helped me to cross the boundaries between the various art disciplines, to become a multi media artist. - about reading; My first theatre play was “La Ténèbreuse”, a collaboration with a dancer, musician and actor, Yildou de Boer, Hans Thissen and Wieger Woudsma. It was the first time, 1989, that my work, in this case a woodcut print, was translated into the language of another discipline. Wieger wrote a poetic text as a translation of a ‘blind’ set printed signs. ‘Blind’ because we hadn’t an agreement on what these signs were supposed to mean but his interpretive reading gave way to a beautiful independent text, later the others followed and made a translation in music and dance. Nothing was ‘Lost in Translation’, the original was transformed into something new and unexpected. For my Anthropomorphic writing and Asemic writing I’ve come to trust my public. Their interpretations are spot on ánd surprise me. For this interview I want to include a picture of my triptych “Cathedral thinking”, made in 2019, a digital photo montage. 36

[Page 33, lower image]. The montage technique results from experimenting with Anthropomorphic writing. The title derives from a speech Greta Thunberg gave for the UN after the burning of the Notre Dame the Paris. In that speech she asks people to change their mind sets. She provokes to think further in time, across generations like the cathedral-builders did, to lay the fundamentals for a society in peace with nature. As fate decided, two weeks before the disaster I was with my family visiting the cathedral and we stood in total awe in front of the stain glass windows. The work is a tribute so to speak, to Notre Dame Greta.

4 Your last project is called “Translational Imagery”. The project title lets us associate and connect seemingly two realms of the artistic world. The territory of images and the realm of words. It seems you are blending these areas. They are by themselves so loaded. That it is hard not to get sucked in by a certain style or context or/of an even bigger culture. I think for example to see in these works the 3D style of the ‘80s. Where we could practice our way of seeing by looking at computer-generated images to then discover a certain image in 3D appearing which was “hidden” inside the image. But it also reminds me of a part of Australian culture where we can see tribal art styles. Your multicultural influences are quite visible. Then indeed some way of writing by its direction on the use of the drawing pen that makes one think of drawing on papyrus rolls or other special handmade papers— maybe in some (again) Chinese context. “Translation” can be read in the title. So, they both need to be translated towards each other? Or once more to us as well? How do you see this connection? Or my association? Since it seems to connect not only images but styles, cultures, way of making these (computer, light projections, photography, ink on paper, painting, hand-drawn, …) and possibly stories that are unfamiliar to us. The TI project was born in an international context. I have been fortunate to live and work abroad for several years and have struggled to learn the languages of the different countries I was staying. A new language starts to feel comfortable if you do not longer feel the need to use your mother language as a template. Languages seem to enforce their own thinking pattern. Hearing the humor in the way a sentence is formulated is a strange, almost non-transferable, language characteristic. To me Dutch flows, German is precise and English a tombola of influences. Language is not only bound to a country or people, but also to areas of knowledge and expertise. When I went from University 38

to Academy I fell from one world into another. Science and Art touch, but they also confuse each other. They seem to use the same vocabulary but differ greatly. Take words as ‘method’, ‘experiment’, ‘original’. Never use the results of an art experiment on a patient, unless you are into voodoo. I felt that I was in position to bridge between all these different experiences. “Translational Imagery “aims to combine visual material from different scientific, cultural and artistic sources to open up the existing narrative to include new and unexpected associations, content and meaning. “Translational Imagery” bridges between the fields of Art, Culture and Science. In two centers for population research in Bonn, Germany, dedicated to “the Rhineland Study”, (in the boroughs of Hardtberg and Beuel), TI has been used to strip medical images of confrontational associations. For example, macro photos of bone structures are presented in such a way that they show how they resemble the architecture of Gothic cathedrals in structure and form. To show this resemblance, a photo was used of a monastery ruin near the research center, Kloster Heisterbach. [Picture]. The triptych is art, the medical background story has been opened up to architecture and location. Another use of TI was in the visitor center of Well fleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, USA. Here the challenge was to spice the message of nature conservation and natural history with pop culture references. Furthermore to give back allure to dusty skeletons and stuffed animals. Cape Cod has a history of whaling and pirates and a rich native culture and… turtles. For more pictures of Translational Imagery see my website: www.franshuisman.eu.

5 How do the forces of nature elements matter to you in your work? Water/vortex, fire/hurricanes, wood/trees, light/time? When you describe your work. You write: Format-dimension 1:1. Or format dimension 2:3. 1 to 1 in regards to what? You start with a drawing and then you work on it in post-production. Is the size in regards to the original size of the drawing (that came first)? So is it a work in relation to its initial drawing? Sometimes you write: Format: 30 x 40 cm. Then you use “cm” as the format description. Or in regards to technique. For example in the work titled “Vliegen leren” (learn to fly). The material is drawing in ink on paper combined with a photo. Technique: digital remix. Or in the work titled “Ups and Downs”. Where the material is, ink on paper, digital reconfiguration. You added here, digital reconfiguration. It sounds like a mysterious eclectic combination of many processes. Also, you did not call it a digital mix but re-mix. Like another added process? Please elaborate on this. I have too much of a scientific background to view the world from the perspective of the 4 classic elements of earth, water, fire and air, but will immediately recognize that only with those four elements in mind, you can make beautiful things. I directed a theater performance about “On the Origin of Species” by Charles Darwin. It is one of the most influential texts ever and, contrary to the general idea, very poetic and spiritual. The idea of step-by-step change is particularly important in my drawings. Evolution takes place under pressure, in response to outside influences. You can show and even apply that processrelated aspect in drawings. The results of the evolutionary process, like shared ancestry between species and necessity of diversity among them, the connections between organisms and their environment, the mutual ecological dependence, these are all subjects of my art. The natural world is my biggest inspiration and because of its current state also the source of darker emotions. 40

Almost all my work starts with making drawings. These drawings can be used in many ways. Sometimes I only present the original drawing to the public, but more often an adaptation or consequence of the drawing. In that case the drawing has been a sketch/design for an image in another medium, for example a painting or sculpture or animation or installation or a re-designed digital drawing. I have been working with digital tools for a number of years. They are quite similar to tools used in graphic techniques. I combine drawings and photos with each other. Layer over layer. The end result is sometimes ideal for projection, then again for print or both. I try to indicate in the titles of the works which use I prefer and in what size and proportion. 1:1 refers to proportion, it means you can project it any size you want as long these proportions are kept in mind. Wild card—What question would you like me to ask you? With this, you can go more into depth in your work or make it more fun. Or simply discard this option. Everything is okay. After a 32 year career I still feel at the beginning of what there is to discover. There is so much to relate to and explore. To name a few topics: The rise of new media, the new ways of presenting work, the relationship with the public, the phenomenon of the immersive exhibition, the changing role of the arts in society, the position of artists, scientific discoveries, art as entertainment, etc. Being a big fan of TED talks I started recording my own lectures on various topics. The first two installments deal with, the role of anatomy in modern art, and “Asemic Writing”. Interwoven in the public talks is my art. It is a new way to make my work more visible and to present it on suitable and contemporary stages. 41

A few weeks ago I started a project where I make ‘live’ drawings at a fixed time every evening, a performance on Facebook and Instagram. Very exciting to do and a bit back to the beginning of my career. The idea is to build a fan base and find new audiences. And it works! The relationship with the audience is very direct. People comment and commit. It is very encouraging. ◀

FEDERICA BUONSANTE ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ FRANS HUISMAN LYNN MARIE KIRBY --▶ LIBBY PAGE

Lynn Marie Kirby 1 --▶ Lynn Marie Kirby, I was lucky to have you as one of my advisors during my time at CCA in San Francisco—which I still cherish as the most fruitful period in my development as an artist. Here I have met great minds and one of them is you. Talking with you felt like there was an open yet unexplored vast ocean. You have an enormous network of people you talk with. Does it, and if yes, how does this reflect in your art? When I began answering your questions a few months ago it was before the coronavirus had spread across the globe. Now everything seems different. This pandemic will forever change the world as we knew it—for the better, I hope. I am writing this to you from my studio, where I look out the window at a tree in bloom: the sun is shining, and all is engulfed in the eerie quiet of everyone at home. I continue to take walks, although now we wear masks on the city streets. And the streets are now erupting in protest, finally. Your questions spurred me to frame my responses through one ongoing project: a series of gestures and site interventions that look at the loss of tenderness that defines our contemporary moment. The project presently has three parts: Part I: “To hold to miss to remember” took place outside the Madonna dell’ Orto Church in Venice in June of 2017; Part II: “Somehow this relates to love” was held in St. Ignatius Church in San Francisco, from January through March of 2019; and Part III: “Gestures in search of missing tenderness” was performed at sites around Venice in October of 2019.

2 With your background in cinema, I remember the first work—a conceptual performance of you—in where I was a member of the audience. I was sitting in the amphitheatre (or film-like setting) waiting for something to happen. The auditorium was packed and there was this feeling one has when a movie is about to start. And someone else pretending to be you was reading a text. Was this person impersonating you?—She was wearing a wig. Did you act like this? But since I did not know her either, it could also be that this person was being herself but reading a text by you. Also, I was unsure if it was intentional that you/your body was not present in the performance or if you could not be there and someone else was reading your text. Was it improvisational? Or a routine performance? Maybe you did not have time to come? Or was it collaborative? Was it meant seriously or should we see it more as a playful gesture? All was possible. The performance left me with questions about the art act, location, time, identity and the roughness and wonders of a performance. The whole thing felt unfinished and was quite vague and mysterious to me. And so, I probably already liked you before even having met you. It has been many years ago, maybe my mind has played tricks on me. And we never talked about this experience. I wonder if you can enlighten us a bit more about this performance of almost a decade ago. Giovanni Bellini’s Madonna and Child, painted in 1480, was stolen from the Madonna Dell’ Orto church in 1993. In the early 1990s, on my first trip to Venice, and to the Biennale, my husband and I made a pilgrimage to see all of Bellini’s paintings. We saw the now missing painting and I was touched by its tenderness. I was struck by an increasing lack of compassion in the world for refugees victimized by strict immigration policies in Europe, and in the United States, especially following the U.S. presidential election of 2016. I began thinking about missing tenderness as a frame and remembered the missing Bellini 46

painting. In 2017, dressed as the Madonna from the missing painting, bathed in a bespoke scent, I sat outside the church where the painting was stolen, in one of two chairs. I held whoever wished to sit next to me and together we attempted to restore the missing tender gesture from the absent painting. This gesture of tenderness enacted in “To hold to miss to remember” (2017) was a meeting of two people through the simple act of touch. I wrapped my arm around participants. We held hands, faced out into the square together, and sat. Being present to one another, listening to the sounds surrounding us, our touch created a simple human connection. The powerful scent imprinted an olfactory memory. It is strange to write of this now, in our pandemic time. No forms of public touch are now possible—not even the simple handshake, let alone a hug or a French biz. The loss of a sense of smell is one of the first markers of COVID-19. 3 You grew up nomadically—You lived in Belgium, France, Hong Kong, Libya, Sweden. And currently, you live in the US. I have also lived in 6 countries. I experience at times feelings of being disconnected with pangs of loneliness, with also contrasting feelings of a sense of holistic belonging and oneness. In your multisensory performance and installation “Somehow this relates to love“ (2019) at Manresa Gallery, Sint Ignatius Church. I think to see that you connect art and worship as a form of contemplation about separation and togetherness. From a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness to a place of togetherness and belonging. The work itself is multi-layered and you collaborate on so many levels. You don’t only use the option of activating the five senses of your visitors by including (site) specific scents and drinks that were 48

made for this show. But you also use an array of disciplines—from painting, philosophy, society documentation, to performance. You sat in one of two empty chairs installed outside of the church, and held participants. This to recreate the feeling of the tender gesture evoked by a missing painting—the Giovanni Bellini’s Madonna and Child. Was the stolen painting from Venice in 1993 eventually found? How did you make sure not to lose yourself? Or is this perhaps a part of it? You give so much love, was it always reciprocated with tenderness or understanding? You also don’t shy away from being political. Do these mappings become for you (new) records of time, place, and current politics? And since we have our unique personal link with experiences, our biographical connection which affects our private behavior in public. Simply put, can the tender gesture transform this personal link—in the case of for example with the opposition of current US immigrant politics?

I strive to find forms of recording experiences with the public that are not about photographing our encounters. In Venice, this simple act of touch was precious, almost transcendent. Sarah Bird, my collaborator and a former student, and I made a rubbing of the bricks under the chairs that participants’ and my feet touched while sitting together. We also exposed a roll of 16mm film, without a camera, to the light of the site, capturing both light and time. Link to site light exposure: vimeo.com/336931582 A few years ago I was asked what I collected, I answered collaborators. I was not being facetious. I really would like to get to know many of the people I meet, understand their ideas and practices, or just spend time together. Since my life revolves around my work, or the other way around, working with someone carves out an opportunity for us to get to know one another. Collaborating frames occasions for exchange, for risk, for adventure. I collaborate with friends as well as with people I do not know, sometimes even those long dead. I find myself inspired by other artists’ work or ideas; sometimes what I am working on is built upon or in conversation with others’ work, as with the missing Bellini painting. I have never embraced the idea of the solitary artist struggling alone, I think of much of my work as social or in dialogue. I no longer think of myself as the sole maker of projects, but rather as the co-curator/collaborator/ frame builder of multiple encounters and materials. 4 Collaborators, connections, exchanges, reading, listening (is culture), improvisation and contemplation. How does this all connect to place which I read elsewhere you proclaim is your obsession?—Is it (still)? Also, I am so curious about your time management and or how you do it all? You have a loving 50

connection with your family, your students, your body and even your email inbox. Since you never slack to reply or interact. When you are there (which you almost always are) you are present. How long, for example, did you work on “Somehow this relates to love”? Since this project is a continuation of a performative site intervention at the Venice Biennale in summer 2017. I read that you worked eighteen months on your “The 24th Street Listening Project” with collaborator Alexis Petty. And also, do you see a difference in for example friendship and collaboration? And here I feel I have to mention your ninety-four-year-old friend, the poet, philosopher and artist Etel Adnan, who you already know since the early nineties, and with whom you recently finished a book of your collaborations. You also perform alone (but still sort of together) since you performed live a text of Etel Adnan and you and a video full of text and drawings you made together. The video was a video short (made with her in 2002 and re-edited in 2019) and caries the poetic title “Under the Linden Trees” at Mill Valley Library Foundation (2019). You skilfully balance your work between seriousness and playfulness. And intellectual and socio-spiritual. Like a cross covering all corners in a deep and multidisciplinary manner. How is prayer, meditation, listening, contemplation connected to your work? How much are your projects experimental to you? For example, the before mentioned projects could be seen as experimental and improvisational although you worked on it for many months. But for example, your work during the 2017 Biennale, where you already explored tenderness with fellow artist Sarah Bird, seems more planned and staged. Is this true? I also very much appreciate that you show your art at so many different sites. Does the setting for where the art project sits, its site/place so to speak play a role in this? How do you see this? By some fluke as a teenager living in Paris, I chose Balmain’s Vent Vert (Green Wind) as my scent, and have been wearing it ever since. The perfume was originally made in 1947 by 51

Germaine Cellier; the first woman to be designated a nose, a perfume artist. It is considered the first “green floral,” made from the elements of the woods—leaves, wild grasses and ferns—and a large amount of galbanum. When I later read about Vent Vert, I was quite amazed that I had stumbled onto this perfume and was wearing a scent that grounded me in this way. I have long been interested in place, as I grew up nomadically and without a fixed sense of place. It stunned me that I had surrounded myself with these green elements, grounded in the earth, giving me a portable sense of place. As I became interested in pushing time-based ephemerality and working beyond the aural and visual; I began to think again of the time-baseness of perfume. In 2016, I took a perfumemaking workshop. I wanted to create a scent as the basis for a project, and realized that I could frame the search for missing tenderness in Venice through smell. The scent needed to be complex in order to tell the layered story of missing tenderness. I reached out to my teacher, the perfumer Loretto Remsing. We spent time together sniffing and talking; finally creating a rich and complex scent that would sink into the deep memory part of our brain. We used scents from the church where the painting had been stolen, the smell of wood on which the missing painting had been painted, scents from around Africa where current refugees were coming from, the scent of stone outside the church, and so on. 5 The story, the research, and the potential transformations via your work all seem intertwined. Are you perhaps the incarnation of the transformation you would like to see with your audience? Is this important and if yes, what kind of transformation do you hope to establish? How much power do you attribute to (contemporary) art? It is hard to see your work as only intellectual work when 53

you talk about missing tenderness, love, and our connection to sacred sites that help us transcendent. With you the artist giving the visitor that what might be missing. With your 2006 “Latent Light Excavations” video improvisations series your turned ultraminimalist. And your gracefully humane performance during the 2017 Venice Biennale “Gestures in search of missing tenderness”. And the seemingly more personal Skype Sessions for Manresa Gallery could it be that the connection is music? Comparable perhaps to jazz where it can go from here to there and all players can improvise? Or conceptual spirituality? I am not sure why I want to define it…Please help me… For your multi-part exhibition that took place within the alcoves of Sint Ignatius Church in San Francisco. You collaborated with a poet (Denise Newman), composer (Jennifer Wilsey), artists (Sara Bird and Judit Navratil), as well as the San Francisco Girls chorus, and two organizations (La Casa de las Madres, a local organization that provides intervention, support and shelter to victims and survivors of domestic violence, and Grannies Respond/Abuelas Responden, a group of grandmothers who travel together to the US southern border to protest the government’s family separation policy). A huge undertaking. I was reflecting on what it meant to have been raised Catholic, as defined within my liberal, service-oriented family. Two of my relatives were part of the liberation theology movement, which emphasized liberation from economic, political, and social oppression. Although I am no longer a practicing Catholic, I have been shaped by its core tenet: love thy neighbor. Christianity has become a dirty word in the contemporary art world, hijacked by the fundamentalists. One can be a Jew, a Buddhist, a Muslim, but never a Christian. The Catholic tradition venerates the Madonna, yet historically has given little space to actual women and girls. I wanted to create a space for women across generations, and decided to do so inside a Catholic church. 54

In Part II: “Somehow this relates to love” (2019), I worked with women of all ages inside four alcoves of St. Ignatius Church in San Francisco. The poet Denise Newman and I collaborated with girls aged 11 to 16 from the San Francisco Girls choir. We wrote a libretto based on their observations of mother/ daughter relationship, which was set to a composition by Jennifer Welsey, and performed by the girls inside the church. I also collaborated with women from La Casa de las Madres, a San Francisco organization that provides intervention, support, and shelter to women who are survivors of domestic violence, and highlighted the work of Grannies Respond/ Abuelas Responden, grandmothers who are working at the US Mexican border in protest against the separations of families. Link to girls singing: vimeo.com/428333498/47dc30405d The geographer Yi-Fu Tuan talks about the vertical space of the cosmos, how we used to look to the heavens to think outside of ourselves: the self not at the center of the universe. In today’s more linear view of life, we have lost much of our connection to the sacred, yet specific sites still connect us to the transcendent. The square outside of the church in Venice where I sat in the company of others, in attempts to find the missing tender gesture, had this connection: the sound of the church bells from the tower above gave form to the silence of sitting, and the brick beneath our feet anchored us to the earth. St. Ignatius Church provided another temporal space for contemplation. I wanted to work with all five senses in the church. The Catholic tradition does so in the litergy, but I wanted to rethink their use. Smell came from the scent I used in Venice and was atomized into the first alcove. Taste was presented in the form of a Bitters made with plants from Mexico by the

apothecary Carmen Cortéz and served to visitors. Sound— the girls chorus. How to deal with touch? There had been the simple act of touch in Venice, now referenced in the site rubbing shown in the first alcove. Touch also has a tragic history in the contemporary Catholic church, I felt I needed to address this grim history. I installed a large velvet curtain made of the same Marianne blue velvet as the cape I had worn outside of the church in Venice. Attached to the curtain was a long flat white speaker that periodically played the word touch. It was repetitive and provocative. Some people touched the velvet curtain, but others understood this as a reference to the horrible history of pediophilia inside the church. I am aware of the politics of such a gesture. All of my work contains politics—as it is made in the world we are living in now. I like to offer opportunities for the work to be received in different ways.

Wild card—What question would you like me to ask you? With this, you can go more into depth in your work or make it more fun. Or simply discard this option. Everything is okay. Teaching has long been a part of my broader practice. I have colleagues who think that teaching has prevented them from working, but I feel differently. Earn while I learn, I like to say. I have wanted to model a different way of teaching than I experienced. A teaching salary has given me certain freedoms, and I have not been tied to the market place. This has allowed me to follow any direction I need to in my work. I have been fortunate to both teach and work across disciplines. In the classroom/ studio I encourage students to understand their own rhythms, the back and forth between making and showing, the breath of exchange. I too have been working with the breath, not only in terms of rhythm, which is central to cinema, or the breath in meditation, but in thinking of how our breath circulates around the world— the medium the air. In October of 2019 I returned to Venice for Part III: “Gestures in search of missing tenderness”, a series of performances at locations throughout the city. Each performance consists of a gesture summoning an emotion associated with that particular site, addressing remembrance, longing, separation or death. In front of the Bridge of Sighs, so named by the poet Lord Byron for prisoners passing over on their way to prison, I sighed into a handkerchief, contemplating prisoners, past and present. Now of course the politics of the breath have taken on a more devastating significance, first with COVID-19, and now with the tragic suffocation of George Floyd, “I can’t breathe” literally means death.

Being in place is so often a starting point. What surrounds me? What are the invisible or latent histories? How have these histories changed over time and how are they changing now? How can we be in this place, in this moment in this place? I gave up long ago waiting for curators to show my work and decided to take charge of my own exhibitions. I choose places that create specific arenas for exchange around ideas I wish to explore with the public. These chosen sites have resonance for me and can frame a different and unexpected encounter for art and the public. A friend and colleague talked about my work a few years ago as “public art for nobody.” I love this idea—that people come upon the work. Sometimes the public knows that what they encounter is supposed to be art and sometimes not. When I began to hold to miss to remember in 2017 I had decided it was time to be in the Venice Biennale. I had not been officially invited, so I found a way to insert my work into the Biennale— or at least into Venice while the Biennale was happening. Here in October of 2019, I return again to Venice. I hold a blank turquoise-blue protest poster and walk up and down paths in the Park of Remembrance, offering up an open space of protest. I felt there were so many things to protest. Today, in light of protests around the world, this work has a more specific resonance, as people rise up against racial injustice.◀

FEDERICA BUONSANTE ĐEJMI HADROVIĆ FRANS HUISMAN LYNN MARIE KIRBY LIBBY PAGE --▶

Libby Page 1 --▶ You came to visit my “6 Private-mini-Exhibitions” project, when I was living in Berlin. And I am happy you did thereupon we became friends. You started a female artist support group which I gladly joined. However only for 2 sessions since I then left for China. Because of this group I think our link is self-development. Do you resonate with the word self-development also in your art? Or is it more subtle or poetical? Can you tell us more about this? I’m happy we met there too! Yes, and no. I’ve been reading a little about mystics who have devoted their lives to what we currently might call self-development. However, from what I have read11 their path is actually more about self-surrender. Mystics from many traditions understand that we are part of a whole; that the path towards God (or which ever word you would like to use for the source of life) is a path into oneness. The individual self has to disappear before we can fully touch the whole. I’m learning that to develop I actually have to surrender control over this very development process. That is currently a little bit beyond my rational understanding and I can only begin to appreciate the concept in practice. The reason I started the support group was an experiment in interconnectivity, I was running on a theory that individuals operate better when they are connected. It was a surrender of ‘my’ time and ‘my’ practice to see what might happen in a group. There is a voluntary surrender of control when ideas are explored in a group, ideas can be pushed further and unexpected territory discovered. 1. One example is a book by the Trappist monk Thomas Keating called Invitation to Love 61

I have faced criticism that my work is too decorative or too accessible, dirty words in the art world! One artist told me my work could be good if I stopped trying to please others, but for me this is the whole point, not to people-please, but to serve them. Before painting full time, I worked on a building site for five years and saw how labourers and professional tradespeople priced their jobs according to materials, hours and skill level. Now, I price my own work with the perspective that an artist, just like a plumber or carpenter, brings a skill that people don’t have time to develop themselves. For me, to be professional is to anticipate the needs of my clients and create paintings accordingly. This goes in the face of much advice artists receive; we are encouraged to block out what others think, be true to ourself etc. I am encouraged by the relationship I have with my clients because they tell me how my work helps them every single day. Joy comes from being connected which brings a sense of purpose. My self is developed in surrendering to the whole. 2 I think to remember when we first met, you introduced your work as colorful landscapes. In which it seems that trees are an important protagonist. Was the tree there from the beginning or when did it start to emerge in your work? Is there a relationship between the tree and self-surrender? Or is it about a certain treeenergy, healing, or nostalgic sensitivity of feeling secure? You create oil paintings, yet the leaves of the trees and bushes look like a sort of lined watery blots. Which, makes your style quite recognizable. Do you want to say more about this? In forests, just beneath the topsoil, there is a fungal network 63

which enable trees to communicate with one another. ’Mother’ trees give extra sustenance to their offspring, warnings are spread through the forest to warn of disease and species even support other species through their differing seasonal changes.2 Trees, like mystics, know that to survive is to be part of the whole, and we too participate in this symbioses as we breathe in the oxygen that they produce, and they process the carbon dioxide that we breathe out. Initially, this is not at all why I started painting trees. I was always interested in architecture and made sculptural installations during my college years using columns to manipulate the ambience of a space and explore our relationship with scale. Again on the building sites I enjoyed seeing how large structures could be remodelled to transform the feel and function of space. My muse of many years, the Canal du Midi in southern France is lined with trees of awe inspiring scale and, having been planted in the 1830’s, they span both time and space.3 It took a while before I realised that the regular planting of the trees along the canal evoked memories of my earlier sculptures. Recent scientific explorations have discovered the chemistry behind why going for a walk in a forest does us so much good.4 So perhaps it was a deeper ancestral/evolutional yearning that made me interested in trees. Yet also forests perfectly evoke the same person/space relationship I enjoy in architecture. As for the blobs, they are partly a conscious desire that my work 2. https://www.ted.com/talks/suzanne_simard_how_trees_talk_to_each_other 3. 240 km (150 mi) long canal running from Toulouse to Sète https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Canal_du_Midi 4. Book “Shinrin-Yoku, The Art and Science of Forest Bathing” by Qing L 64

straddles the gap between realism and abstraction and partly something less conscious. Perhaps the blobs also represent what I have been talking about with this idea of the individual self and the whole. They remind me of globules of mercury which when pushed together merge again to form a seamless bigger blob.5 Plus, they simply make me happy! 3 You have just finished one series called “Zeitraum” (Period of time). Or literally: Time-space. You made them from photographs you took while traveling from Berlin towards Azille, France where you had your solo exhibition. During the time that you come closer to France, the paintings drastically changed. Which is quite interesting to see. I wonder how much your location matters to you and thus for your work? And I think when you came back, then, after these “road trip” paintings, your trees became fiery red. You are on Fire! What is going on? Or does it have something to do with the fact that your Berlin atelier is apposite of the BerlinHohenschönhausen Memorial (Stasi Prison Memorial)? Location is very important to me, I think I am a bit of a sponge and it is hard for me not to be influenced by my surroundings. The shock of moving from Southern France where every beam of light seems to be filled with more light, to Berlin one grey November where the dark sky reaches out with cold, clammy fingers was a great shock and “Zeitraum” has helped me to process the experience. I am happy you observed the shift in light in the paintings, if I were to revisit this series I would make that even more drastic. My new coping mechanism is to return to the brighter colours that fill my studio and heart with their own light. Yellows and Reds have been the cure to winter 2019/2020! 5. https://youtu.be/0j2X6HZrfdE?t=105 Playing with safe elemental mercury 66

4 You recently made a commissioned work of which you told me you are proud of. It is a huge painting of 280x160 cm. Tasty red with gold. But not your usual style I would say. So it seems that commissions don’t seem to hinder your artistic development. Do you prefer to work on commissions? And what makes you proud of this work especially? I’m proud simply because of the scale. It’s a technical challenge to scale something up, what works when small does not necessarily transpose to a larger size. It worked well visually and so I am happy. Commissions give me the chance to practice what I have been talking about and surrender my self to the desires of my client. This is not always easy as the ego can come along and say a painting would be better ‘my’ way but collaboration produces 68

colour combinations and compositions I may never have come up with alone. 5 You told me that because of the current international health emergency you did not go to a painting course that you wanted to attend. Was it for pleasure or is there another new direction or development coming up in your work? What are you currently thinking of and/or working on? Perhaps surprisingly for someone who loves to paint trees in bright colours, I practice my technical skills by studying the old masters who painted with a very limited palette. The trip was to go and study under a teacher of portraiture. I have made a couple of studies attempting to introduce the figure into my tree paintings and I am presented with an interesting problem. As soon as there is a figure in the landscape we prioritise our own story and the trees become a mere backdrop to the human narrative. I want to keep the tree as the ‘hero’ so I need to figure out a way or perhaps simply leave the human out altogether. Humanity is present anyway, even in it’s absence. I am often asked why there are no people in my landscapes to which I’d like to reply, “Oh! Are they landscapes?” Wild card—What question would you like me to ask you? With this, you can go more into depth in your work or make it more fun. Or simply discard this option. Everything is okay. How about we move from thinking about self-development to the self-isolation we are all experiencing at the moment? There is a link! 69

Forced to isolate physically, our fundamental connectedness is highlighted as we reach out for each other with something akin to hunger. My phone has never been so busy and I am impressed by the creative outpourings going on globally as people respond to their confinement with creativity and humour, sharing in order to survive. In your own work too I see our deep yearning for connection. You are constantly on the bridge which is a link between two separated landmasses. Your work bridges the gaps in other ways, like this project linking artists; here, you become the bridge. In your ongoing series “Sun-Penetrations” I see a curiosity for connection as the sunlight seeks out a surface in a room to rest upon. I see connection in the corona pandemic with the fires in Brazil and Australia earlier this year; trees are the breathing apparatus for our planet and this virus affects our respiratory system. Through the eyes of connectivity (or oneness or the whole) we can see that the ways we farm both agriculture and animals to feed our isolated bellies have devastated our planet and now ourselves. I hope we become much more aware of cause and effect, dramatically changing the way we farm. Both flora and fauna deserve the respect we would give our own limbs, our own lungs, for in fact, they are. ◀

COLOPHON 5 ARTISTS INTERVIEWS Artists-Friends #1 by Kim Engelen Interviews with: Federica Buonsante Đejmi Hadrović Frans Huisman Lynn Marie Kirby Libby Page All images courtesy of the artists © Kim Engelen, June 2020 ISBN 9798653735950

ART _ISTS INTERVIEWS

5 Artists Interviews #1 Artists Friends Contemporary artist Kim Engelen (Netherlands) interviewed five of her artists-friends: Federica Buonsante (Italy), Đejmi Hadrović (Slovenia), Frans Huisman (Netherlands), Lynn Marie Kirby (USA), and Libby Page (UK). 5 Artists Interviews is a five-year book-project by Kim Engelen. #1 Artists Friends is the first book in a series of a total of five books. Each book in the series holds interviews with five contemporary artists. The interview itself contains five questions.