When I think of Giacometti,
I also think of Jean Genet. One of my first great discoveries during my student
days. The years in which I was formed, when I came into contact with new
worlds, in which I got to know myself through those worlds. A time I remember
wistfully, a time I'm still related to in my work today. Of course there were
many other new experiences, and I gained many new insights. But it hasn't been as
intense as then.
Artists like Genet and
Giacommetti voiced exactly the dark life feeling I had. The longing for the selvedge,
the need to rebel, the refusal to conform. It felt like a safe haven where I
could hide. From where I could look at the surrounding world with a frown. Like
the figures of Giacommetti: being there and not being there. Show and hide at
the same time. Surrounded by a quiet, solitary space.
The sculptures of Giacometti
chant the tormented man. They give him the opportunity to withdraw into himself.
Without having to account for it. They are generous to the misfits among us.
Like Our Lady of the Flowers by Genet, or the dark tones of Joy Division.