Mike Kelley
Arena #10 (Dogs)
1990
stuffed
animals on afghan
29,2
x 312,4 x 81,3 cm
Ellsworth Kelly was the
painter who made me come home in the visual arts. The clarity, the great
smoothness, the sophistication and at the same time the gesture of leaving the
frame, on its way of becoming an object, that, in its bright colors, captured
the wall opposite me and myself.
Mike Kelley brought me back
to these small obscene discoveries of body, and the dirty loud laughter of my
adolescence mind, to those discoveries and confusions that seemed so exciting
personal, because they seemed to be only mine. That I was a thing too, a thing
to touch and lick, that gave me a bright glance, that made me generous, vile,
strange and familiar at the same time. As if I swelled and widened, and made me
no longer smuggle away anything inappropriate, but instead intensified
the places, the moments, the memory, the connection with everything around me
just as it happened.
It was no longer only
bright, sensual, sensible and responsible, but as well nagging, hard yellow or
brilliant brown, dirty, uncomfortable, horny and lusty. A closed in world where
I could blur. Where I could bump and fiddle with humming shapes and frizzy
pawings. Where I grabbed myself and could become a wild laughing root or
whatever.
You can now aim to describe
that precise and clear, but it will always, in many ways, be unrelated to back
then. Perhaps the attempt to write about it, is a sin towards life and being
submerged into here and now. The thought of it can be joyful because the
control is pleasant, but by then a vile experience was a sparkle, dominant and
rather undefined, a pom pom pom, not a word, not a sentence, just a tra la
tra la.
I do not know what
existence wants. Desire or Consciousness?
That split drudges in my
work. Beautiful..yes, clear..yes, color..yes, large convex forms..yes as well.
Uncluttered..probably, almost lucid..perhaps. But voluntarily, it is secretly
in the ground already broken. Cheap sheets of paper size A4 that rather quickly
discolor in daylight; the work is composed of small angular building blocks (A4
paper) as if the big picture can not be true. Partially torn sheets, holes
appear and membranes arise, they are shredded, evaporate as flakes of foam on
the surface. Newspaper clippings of global suffering deform to a jumble. Words
that remain independent, sometimes trigger multiple meanings by color/form
context or just giggle a bit. But at the end words don't want to be horny and
indefinable but they want to operate in terms of meaning, explaining and
naming.
I can hardly give them back
the adolescence mind.
Yeah, yeah, I fail in my
art, and at times in my daily life.
Momentarily not, but most
of the time I mumble away and wait dying from here.
Harm
Hajonides, 2015
Harm Hajonides
Veronderstel wee, vergeet
wee
2015
different
colored paper A4 80 gsm pasted directly on white wall with masking tape
296
x 162 cm
Harm Hajonides
Veronderstel wee, vergeet
wee
2015
different
colored paper A4 80 gsm pasted directly on white wall with masking tape
296
x 162 cm
Harm Hajonides (NL)
Veronderstel wee, vergeet
wee
2015
different
colored paper A4 80 gsm pasted directly on white wall with masking tape
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