Frank Anderson / Willem de Kooning

 

Willem de Kooning 

Rosy Fingered Dawn at Louse Point

1963

oil on canvas

203,5 x 177,5 cm

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam

 

 

I have always been in love with the open space 

that sounds like a flag flapping in the wind.

The vastness. The distances and depths. The perspective. 

The high sky and its promises. The light and the states of mind. 

The shaped time. Space and movement. 

The philosophical space, therefore, and not the romantic one. 

 

A painting comes into being over time. 

That duration ensures an accumulation of intensities within the painting. 

The painting is therefore never a representation of reality 

but always a stack of intensities, which itself becomes a new reality.

Material that is animated by the spiritual act placed within it. 

Which leads to a painting practice consisting of endlessly looking 

at a brushstroke until it shows something.

 

That is what struck me when I first saw de Kooning’s 

"Rosy Fingered Dawn at Louse Point" in the eighties. The recognition! 

The openness and the seemingly effortless manner of painting, that captures 

an overwhelming, complex emotion, summoned by perception. 

The light, the space, the wind, and the body, all in sync. 

And finally the title. Evocative poetry that brings the painting to another level. 

 

The impact it had on me became a starting point for what painting could be.

 

Frank Anderson, 2026

Frank Anderson

Latour serie (Self and shadow)

2026

acrylic on linen

20 x 30 cm

studio collection

Frank Anderson

Ramifications 1

2024

acrylic on linen

20 x 30 cm

private collection

Frank Anderson (NL)

Ramifications 2

2024

acrylic on linen

30 x 40 cm

private collection

https://frankanderson.nl

Ton van Kints / Yves Klein

 

Yves Klein

Leap into the Void

1960

photograph

 

 

In her article 'Philosophy and Image: Leap into the Void', published on 9 March 2018, philosopher Noortje de Leij explored the difference in meaning between the suggestion of being able to rise up, as in Klein's artwork, and the beauty of falling over and over again, which is a form of surrender to the inevitable. She referred in particular to the work of artists such as Bruce Nauman and Bas Jan Ader, in which the repeated fall signifies a letting go of unrealizable illusions. 'Falling again and again, uselessly, aimlessly, without the illusion of a better existence elsewhere, is more heroic than a single leap into space. It is not the illusion of happiness shining down on us from above, but insight into what is going on (what is the case) that holds the promise of a happy life. The tragedy of the fall therefore perhaps holds more happiness than the heroic leap that tries to conceal its doomed failure. Or as Samuel Beckett's famous adage put it: Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.'

 

A work of my own that I have chosen was created in 1984, but it no longer exists. It was constructed from iron, wood, glass and varnish. In other words, a layering of materials that become increasingly less solid and more fluid. I probably cut the piece up to use as the basis for another work. I’d love to see it again, and I’ve often thought about making a copy. I don’t do that, though, because the memory of the sculpture is probably a more satisfying result.

 

Ton van Kints, 2026

Ton van Kints

ZT

1984

iron, wood, glass, varnish

ca 150 x 110 x 5 cm

www.tonvankints.nl

Ben Dallas / Henri Matisse

 

Henri Matisse

The Red Studio 

1911

181 x 219 cm (71.5”x 86.25”)

oil on canvas

Museum of Modern Art, New York

 

 

A major influence on my work is Henri Matisse. His impact is not so much visual; it's inspired from his painting practice, a personal procedure he articulately explained in his "Notes of a Painter" written in 1908. He states:

 

    "Then a moment comes when all the parts have found

     their definite relationships, and from then on it would 

     be impossible for me to add a stroke to my picture

     without having to repaint it entirely."

 

Here, he explains an intuitive way of painting which entails a personal integration of materials along with his responses to the resultant effects rather than pre-conceiving of composition and design. This is the spontaneous process I employ to create my works, one which integrates painting and physical structure into one aesthetic expression. 

 

Ben Dallas, 2025

Ben Dallas

SCHEMATIC FOR A HUMDRUM UTOPIA 

2024  

38,1 x 26,7 cm (15”x10.5”)  

acrylic media, mdf, wood

Ben Dallas
SLOW RECOVERY FROM SELF-INDUCED NORMALITY 

2025  

26,7 x 35,6 cm (10.5”X14”) 

acrylic media, canvas, mdf

Ben Dallas (US)
ATTEMPTING TO GET OVER THE EXISTENCE OF FOOLS  

2025  

22,9 x 30,5 cm (9”x12”)  

acrylic media, canvas, glue

bendallas.com

Michiel Kluiters / Peter Fischli & David Weiss

 

Peter Fischli (1952) & David Weiss (1946–2012)

Untitled 

1994–2013
From the series Polyurethane Objects

hand-carved and painted polyurethane, 166 parts
dimensions variable

Peter Fischli & David Weiss

Untitled 

1994–2013
From the series Polyurethane Objects

hand-carved and painted polyurethane, 166 parts
dimensions variable

Peter Fischli & David Weiss

Untitled 

1994–2013
From the series Polyurethane Objects

hand-carved and painted polyurethane, 166 parts
dimensions variable

As a 2nd year student at the Rietveld, I came across their work from this series when I was on a gallery tour in NYC on my own. I was really under the assumption that I was walking in somewhere I wasn't supposed to and they were still busy building, but once the penny dropped I fell in love with the work and it definitely influenced me.

 

Michiel Kluiters, 2025

 

 

 

The objects—a seemingly random arrangements of tools, pallets, cleaning supplies, paint cans—are so meticulously crafted and convincingly painted that at first glance, you feel as though you’ve stumbled into an artist’s studio or idle workshop frozen in time. But the moment you start really looking, the spell unravels in the most exhilarating way. You realize these aren’t just everyday objects strewn about; they are painstaking, carved polyurethane replicas of mundane items, careful illusions—stripped of function and brimming with humor, warmth, and existential weight. There’s a tension between their hyperrealist craftsmanship and their absolute uselessness. 

Michiel Kluiters (NL)

Dimensional doorway series

2025

photowork

www.michielkluiters.me

Adam Taylor / Roger Cecil

 

Roger Cecil

Summer Mist

2001

National Museum Wales

Roger Cecil

Winter Night with Angharad

c.2003-2005

Roger Cecil

in the studio

 

 

 

I came across Roger Cecil’s work around ten years ago when a friend suggested I take a look. It immediately felt like finding a long lost friend, his paintings really spoke to me. 

He used a lot of household materials in his work and that’s what first got me into using tar (bitumen) in my work through learning about his process. 

His abstract paintings reflect a profound connection to the Welsh landscape and industrial heritage. What makes Cecil especially compelling is how he maintained a fiercely personal style, working in isolation and resisting the commercial art world to preserve the integrity of his vision. I have a profound respect for him as an artist. His art feels both intimate and universal, drawing you in and inviting quiet reflection.

 

Adam Taylor, 2025

Adam Taylor

The commuter (left)

oil on panel 

170 x 150 cm 

Horse (right)

oil on panel

170 x 150 cm

Adam Taylor

Our Mountain

oil on panel 

150 x 170 cm

Adam Taylor (UK)

In Dreams

2024

oil on panel

130 × 120 cm

www.adamtaylorartist.com

Jeroen Eisinga / James Turrell

 

James Turrell

Installation view 

February 11 - Aug 14, 2020

Pace Gallery, London 

© James Turrell

photo: Damian Griffiths

 

 

I was asked to write a little something about a dead artist who inspired me but wound up writing about a living one, sorry for that, I know I'm subverting the idea of this blog this way, but this is what came up, and also, I'm very happy that this artist is still alive today, so here's my contribution: Not an inspiration but a kindred soul. 

I really get inspired by life itself and so does he. When I was 20 years old, I woke up one morning and, in my hand, I saw a strange, very bright green light. I woke up my girlfriend, who was lying next to me in bed, and I said to her, 'Look at this light, isn't it wonderful? She said 'I see nothing', and turned around and went back to sleep. And I just sat there in complete awe of this beautiful 

light that shone from my hand. 

Until today I cherish this memory as one of those rare insightful moments into the divinity of our souls. When a friend told me about the colors that James Turrell saw while he was sitting in the darkness of his solitary confinement when he was in jail I felt a kindred spirit had been revealed to me.

 

Jeroen Eisinga, 2025

Jeroen Eisinga (NL)

The Gift

1995

Super 8 color film transferred to digital file

silent, 2'50" 

© Jeroen Eisinga

jeroeneisinga.com