metropolis m

Arjan van Helmond

The motifs in the paintings by Arjan van Helmond (b. 1971) are utterly mundane: a chair, a table, a lamp. Yet they gnaw at your mind, as if something were not quite right. They distance themselves from the everyday, in an effort to find access to the far more intangible world of memory. Arjan van Helmond’s intimate painting is on the advance. His work is more and more echoes, both nationally and internationally.

Ingrid CommandeurTwo years ago, you completed your graduate work at the Rijksakademie in Amsterdam. I still remember your final presentation. Your work stood out because it was so subdued: still lifes of houses, interiors and little domestic scenes in gouache and acrylics on paper. How do you look back on that phase in your work now?

Two years ago, you completed your graduate work at the Rijksakademie in Amsterdam. I still remember your final presentation. Your work stood out because it was so subdued: still lifes of houses, interiors and little domestic scenes in gouache and acrylics on paper. How do you look back on that phase in your work now?

Arjan van Helmond‘It was an important presentation, but the first time I found my own signature as an artist was in the period before the Rijksakademie, around 2002, when I was working on an exhibition at the Van de Nieuwe Dingen visiting artists’ studio in Tilburg. I still often worked on canvas, but I always felt that the sketches I was doing as studies for the paintings were better. In Tilburg, for the first time, I did a large series of works on paper. It was there that I discovered I no longer wanted to make a distinction between the drawings and the paintings. All the drawings had images of the city in them, but not so much recognizable buildings or locations. For me, it was more about characterizing that typical atmosphere of the city by way of its architecture. In a way, it was also a formal investigation of what a house like that says about society, or about people, about somebody’s tastes or political preferences: in the figurative sense, of course – not literally. I tried to evoke or reinforce associations, with colour, for example. At the time, I was also fascinated by the philosopher, Gaston Bachelard, and his Poetics of Space (1958). Bachelard is a philosopher of the sciences and humanities. His thinking evolved out of phenomenology. What is so exceptional is that The Poetics of Space, which is entirely about how we experience architecture, spaces and buildings, is related more to literature and poetry than it is to architectural theory.

‘It was an important presentation, but the first time I found my own signature as an artist was in the period before the Rijksakademie, around 2002, when I was working on an exhibition at the Van de Nieuwe Dingen visiting artists’ studio in Tilburg. I still often worked on canvas, but I always felt that the sketches I was doing as studies for the paintings were better. In Tilburg, for the first time, I did a large series of works on paper. It was there that I discovered I no longer wanted to make a distinction between the drawings and the paintings. All the drawings had images of the city in them, but not so much recognizable buildings or locations. For me, it was more about characterizing that typical atmosphere of the city by way of its architecture. In a way, it was also a formal investigation of what a house like that says about society, or about people, about somebody’s tastes or political preferences: in the figurative sense, of course – not literally. I tried to evoke or reinforce associations, with colour, for example. At the time, I was also fascinated by the philosopher, Gaston Bachelard, and his Poetics of Space (1958). Bachelard is a philosopher of the sciences and humanities. His thinking evolved out of phenomenology. What is so exceptional is that The Poetics of Space, which is entirely about how we experience architecture, spaces and buildings, is related more to literature and poetry than it is to architectural theory.

‘Bachelard stepped back from regular architectural theory. With him, the experience of the space is foremost – the way it is bound to memory. In Bachelard’s view, a memory has its own form of time. You remember in a flash something that took perhaps three days to happen in real life. You can’t hang on to time, but you can remember the place where something took place very vividly, down to the smallest detail. In that sense, memory is more related to place than it is to time. Bachelard called this ‘topoanalysis’: the psyche works in such a way that an understanding of events is connected to the memories of the places where those events took place and the kind of meaning they assume. You often see this phenomenon in films, in horror films, for example. I saw a horror film like that last week, where people were invited to an old mental asylum to play a kind of game. Whoever came out alive got a million dollars. It was a kind of futuristic asylum on the top of a cliff. All the people who had ever been murdered there had united into a single avenging ghost, who lived in the walls of the building and would come out now and then to drag someone else into death. That is the most banal example of psychologizing the experience of a place. Once you read Bachelard’s book, you start recognizing things in your own environment and relating them to your own experience.’ ‘Bachelard stepped back from regular architectural theory. With him, the experience of the space is foremost – the way it is bound to memory. In Bachelard’s view, a memory has its own form of time. You remember in a flash something that took perhaps three days to happen in real life. You can’t hang on to time, but you can remember the place where something took place very vividly, down to the smallest detail. In that sense, memory is more related to place than it is to time. Bachelard called this ‘topoanalysis’: the psyche works in such a way that an understanding of events is connected to the memories of the places where those events took place and the kind of meaning they assume. You often see this phenomenon in films, in horror films, for example. I saw a horror film like that last week, where people were invited to an old mental asylum to play a kind of game. Whoever came out alive got a million dollars. It was a kind of futuristic asylum on the top of a cliff. All the people who had ever been murdered there had united into a single avenging ghost, who lived in the walls of the building and would come out now and then to drag someone else into death. That is the most banal example of psychologizing the experience of a place. Once you read Bachelard’s book, you start recognizing things in your own environment and relating them to your own experience.’

Ingrid CommandeurGiven what you have just told us about Bachelard, has your work shifted from the outside (façade, architecture) to inside (the interior), and the poetic and psychological aspects associated with indoor space? In some of your recent work, you zoom in more and more often on the details, on lamps, ceilings or floors, which are presented in a somewhat deformed state. At the Pavilions in Almere, in their Le peintre de la vie moderne exhibition, I saw that you had done a series from a hotel room in Shanghai.

Given what you have just told us about Bachelard, has your work shifted from the outside (façade, architecture) to inside (the interior), and the poetic and psychological aspects associated with indoor space? In some of your recent work, you zoom in more and more often on the details, on lamps, ceilings or floors, which are presented in a somewhat deformed state. At the Pavilions in Almere, in their Le peintre de la vie moderne exhibition, I saw that you had done a series from a hotel room in Shanghai.

Arjan van Helmond‘Yes. Initially, they were more portraits of houses, which I wanted to infuse with a kind of human quality, from outside. In my recent work, it is more about the eye and the emotion that can be attributed to it. That is a process that takes place rather slowly and without your being aware of it. The Shanghai work is an exception. The experience of Shanghai was so overwhelming for me that the best way to understand it was to completely retreat to my hotel room and do the work from there. I felt no need to respond to cultural or political conditions. In this context, it is interesting to make a comment about my earliest work, which was formal, abstract geometric. It was then that I asked the crucial question – what evokes what? – for the first time. I sometimes put the paintings in a space, in such a way that they could add an emotional weight to that space. In fact, splitting the viewpoint, as I am doing now, often refers back to that. At one point, I had made a drawing of the interior of my parents’ house, with all my abstract paintings spread out on their oak furniture. I feel that the essence of my work is still very close to that phase of the abstract paintings. But at the time, I got bogged down in that very formal investigation, maybe in part because I was at the Jan van Eyck Academy, where there was such a penchant for theoretically defending your work.’

‘Yes. Initially, they were more portraits of houses, which I wanted to infuse with a kind of human quality, from outside. In my recent work, it is more about the eye and the emotion that can be attributed to it. That is a process that takes place rather slowly and without your being aware of it. The Shanghai work is an exception. The experience of Shanghai was so overwhelming for me that the best way to understand it was to completely retreat to my hotel room and do the work from there. I felt no need to respond to cultural or political conditions. In this context, it is interesting to make a comment about my earliest work, which was formal, abstract geometric. It was then that I asked the crucial question – what evokes what? – for the first time. I sometimes put the paintings in a space, in such a way that they could add an emotional weight to that space. In fact, splitting the viewpoint, as I am doing now, often refers back to that. At one point, I had made a drawing of the interior of my parents’ house, with all my abstract paintings spread out on their oak furniture. I feel that the essence of my work is still very close to that phase of the abstract paintings. But at the time, I got bogged down in that very formal investigation, maybe in part because I was at the Jan van Eyck Academy, where there was such a penchant for theoretically defending your work.’

Ingrid CommandeurToday, when your work is written about, it is always about its ‘cinematic character’ and the absence of people. Your work is often characterized by a description of what is not there (figures that are not in the image), or by what it pre-eminently is not: a frozen still from a film. What do you think about that?

Today, when your work is written about, it is always about its ‘cinematic character’ and the absence of people. Your work is often characterized by a description of what is not there (figures that are not in the image), or by what it pre-eminently is not: a frozen still from a film. What do you think about that?

Arjan van Helmond‘I think it happens because my work has a narrative layer to it, one I intentionally work towards achieving. I try to let the image be a moment, which may be very ordinary, but which stills has something extraordinary in it. That does imply some kind of human activity. There are never people in them, literally, but they are still thick with human action or something that awaiting human intervention.’

‘I think it happens because my work has a narrative layer to it, one I intentionally work towards achieving. I try to let the image be a moment, which may be very ordinary, but which stills has something extraordinary in it. That does imply some kind of human activity. There are never people in them, literally, but they are still thick with human action or something that awaiting human intervention.’

Ingrid Commandeur I feel that these descriptions do not do your work justice. What makes your work so specific is also the emptiness, and especially the perspectives you select in order to bring something into the image. What is in the work is your own intimate view, not so much a scene or a film still that the figures have walked out of.

I feel that these descriptions do not do your work justice. What makes your work so specific is also the emptiness, and especially the perspectives you select in order to bring something into the image. What is in the work is your own intimate view, not so much a scene or a film still that the figures have walked out of.

Arjan van Helmond‘People always look for references. As soon as there is a question of a narrative layer in the work, it is very quickly connected to a medium like film. But it is not true that my work is inspired by films or that it comes about by thinking in a cinematographic framework. The only exception to that is the Chinese director, Won Kar Wai. I have great admiration for the pregnant, formal and aesthetic decisions that he made for a film like In the Mood for Love. In that film, there are frequent images shot from a narrow passageway, or through a door, from a different room, and in a lot of shots, you actually do not see the people it is about. But in general, you can say that today we are inundated with film images, that you automatically work that into the way you experience things. Even your imagination may be framed by it. In that sense, I am the one who makes those decisions in my paintings, but at the same time, I want it not to just be my own eye that can walk into the scene, as it were, but also that of the viewer.’

‘People always look for references. As soon as there is a question of a narrative layer in the work, it is very quickly connected to a medium like film. But it is not true that my work is inspired by films or that it comes about by thinking in a cinematographic framework. The only exception to that is the Chinese director, Won Kar Wai. I have great admiration for the pregnant, formal and aesthetic decisions that he made for a film like In the Mood for Love. In that film, there are frequent images shot from a narrow passageway, or through a door, from a different room, and in a lot of shots, you actually do not see the people it is about. But in general, you can say that today we are inundated with film images, that you automatically work that into the way you experience things. Even your imagination may be framed by it. In that sense, I am the one who makes those decisions in my paintings, but at the same time, I want it not to just be my own eye that can walk into the scene, as it were, but also that of the viewer.’

Ingrid CommandeurWhat I meant was that I find those description of your work much too detached. You are sometimes mentioned in the same breath with Luc Tuymans, but in my view, the comparison does not hold water.

What I meant was that I find those description of your work much too detached. You are sometimes mentioned in the same breath with Luc Tuymans, but in my view, the comparison does not hold water.

Arjan van Helmond‘I always try to stay close to personal experience. But I am also always aware that the work takes on a life of its own and is not simply a form of self-expression. I flirt with that. Those layers in my work are something that I find very difficult to describe in words. It is typical of something that I can only express in the work itself. I always also work on more than one thing at a time, so that a natural connection is created between the works themselves. My work really can’t be compared to Luc Tuymans’! His work seems very poetic, but it is actually very aloof. He is an artist who has paved the way for a lot of other artists. But a big difference between my work and his is that his paintings are based on photography. He works from photographs, with a very laden context, and sometimes even paints the light that falls on that photograph, making that a part of the painting. Or he includes the edges of shadows in his painting, as if you were looking at a photograph that was a little distorted or bent. With Tuymans, the historic context of the image is always very important. Once you know that, you can almost never look at his paintings without that in the back of your mind. I think, with Tuymans, things are pulled very far apart.’

‘I always try to stay close to personal experience. But I am also always aware that the work takes on a life of its own and is not simply a form of self-expression. I flirt with that. Those layers in my work are something that I find very difficult to describe in words. It is typical of something that I can only express in the work itself. I always also work on more than one thing at a time, so that a natural connection is created between the works themselves. My work really can’t be compared to Luc Tuymans’! His work seems very poetic, but it is actually very aloof. He is an artist who has paved the way for a lot of other artists. But a big difference between my work and his is that his paintings are based on photography. He works from photographs, with a very laden context, and sometimes even paints the light that falls on that photograph, making that a part of the painting. Or he includes the edges of shadows in his painting, as if you were looking at a photograph that was a little distorted or bent. With Tuymans, the historic context of the image is always very important. Once you know that, you can almost never look at his paintings without that in the back of your mind. I think, with Tuymans, things are pulled very far apart.’

Ingrid CommandeurAt first, your still lifes exude modesty and reserve. Then they in fact radiate on a very forceful character, which is to say, if a viewer is prepared to go along with the intimacy of the scene that you have painted. Your use of paper as the support for your paintings here plays an important role. Paper is a very fragile medium. Did you make that decision intentionally?

At first, your still lifes exude modesty and reserve. Then they in fact radiate on a very forceful character, which is to say, if a viewer is prepared to go along with the intimacy of the scene that you have painted. Your use of paper as the support for your paintings here plays an important role. Paper is a very fragile medium. Did you make that decision intentionally?

Arjan van Helmond ‘At a given point, my work became more collage-like. Working on paper gave me a lot of freedom. I ripped pieces off paintings or stuck pieces on. I combined things with one another, and new things grew out of that. I am not very enamoured of the object quality of a painting – of any kind of work. In this sense, working on paper was perhaps also a pragmatic decision. But you are right. Paper does have something fragile about it, and that works very well with the scenes that evolve in my work. Besides that, I have discovered that I really like adapting the format of the work while I am working. Then it takes on a kind of coincidental character, as if it were just ‘found’, like a picture in a magazine or a print. I once did an exhibition together with Tjebbe Beekman, in London. His paintings are very thickly painted, with grand gestures. Mine are much less so, but my work still stands up alongside the violence of his painting. The impression my work makes has a lot to do with the way it is presented. That’s something that is interesting to think about.’

‘At a given point, my work became more collage-like. Working on paper gave me a lot of freedom. I ripped pieces off paintings or stuck pieces on. I combined things with one another, and new things grew out of that. I am not very enamoured of the object quality of a painting – of any kind of work. In this sense, working on paper was perhaps also a pragmatic decision. But you are right. Paper does have something fragile about it, and that works very well with the scenes that evolve in my work. Besides that, I have discovered that I really like adapting the format of the work while I am working. Then it takes on a kind of coincidental character, as if it were just ‘found’, like a picture in a magazine or a print. I once did an exhibition together with Tjebbe Beekman, in London. His paintings are very thickly painted, with grand gestures. Mine are much less so, but my work still stands up alongside the violence of his painting. The impression my work makes has a lot to do with the way it is presented. That’s something that is interesting to think about.’

Ingrid CommandeurTo come back to Tjebbe Beekman, what other painters are important for you? Do you have the impression that there is a new generation of painters?

To come back to Tjebbe Beekman, what other painters are important for you? Do you have the impression that there is a new generation of painters?

Arjan van Helmond‘I have always continued to paint, even though I was often advised not to when I was studying. At a certain point, it was a kind of anti-medium. Now you see that painting is really winning a new place for itself. Philip Guston is a major hero for me, but that is more because of his attitude: he actually does very sensitive, sentimental work. Mostly, I find mostly his radical changes so fantastic. He did exactly whatever he felt he had to do, what his work asked of him. In Shanghai, I came across Zhang Enli, an artist with whom I seem to have a lot in common. But I can also really enjoy a 14th-century painter like Paolo Uccello. I also have a kind of natural interaction with other painters, such as Rezi van Lankveld, Sara van der Heide and Tjebbe Beekman. I think that people are free now in how they deal with painting. There are no longer any dogmas in painting. The work of someone like Maaike Schoorel, for example, is about transparency, about leaving out as much as possible. But she still in fact makes very contemporary portraits. People are looking for the ‘holes’ in painting, so that it also has more space to mix with other media. At least I hope so. Painting’s new popularity is of course also being partly steered by the art market, but that is certainly not the most important aspect.’

‘I have always continued to paint, even though I was often advised not to when I was studying. At a certain point, it was a kind of anti-medium. Now you see that painting is really winning a new place for itself. Philip Guston is a major hero for me, but that is more because of his attitude: he actually does very sensitive, sentimental work. Mostly, I find mostly his radical changes so fantastic. He did exactly whatever he felt he had to do, what his work asked of him. In Shanghai, I came across Zhang Enli, an artist with whom I seem to have a lot in common. But I can also really enjoy a 14th-century painter like Paolo Uccello. I also have a kind of natural interaction with other painters, such as Rezi van Lankveld, Sara van der Heide and Tjebbe Beekman. I think that people are free now in how they deal with painting. There are no longer any dogmas in painting. The work of someone like Maaike Schoorel, for example, is about transparency, about leaving out as much as possible. But she still in fact makes very contemporary portraits. People are looking for the ‘holes’ in painting, so that it also has more space to mix with other media. At least I hope so. Painting’s new popularity is of course also being partly steered by the art market, but that is certainly not the most important aspect.’

Ingrid Commandeur

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