How would you describe your practice?
There are two sides to almost all of my work. On one hand, there is the sculptural, technical, classical and monumental approach; on the other, the informal, banal and comical approach. My work is created where those two extremes meet. My collage Because bigger really is better is a typical example.
Large clay sculptures take a central position in your work – why do you use clay?
I love the sharpness of the material, the way it cracks, tears and flakes off. As if it wants to break. I want the material to speak. I play with its fragility to create visual tension. I constructed the sculpture Rock out of clay tubes – after firing them, I smashed up most of it again.
How are your sculptures created?
I play around with the creation process. Particularly so in the porcelain sculpture of a doorpost, where things that were left or dropped ‘accidentally’ as I worked became essential reference points of the work. Preparation turns into a seemingly self-performing process. I copied wooden support lattices and glue clamps from the process in porcelain; the work shows its own creation.
Could you explain the döner kebab?
The leftover material from the clay press looked like kebab. It was a wonderful surprise; I came to make a sculpture and left with döner kebab. An exploration of the materiality of everyday life. The kebabs are ready to welcome visitors. This was a first step towards the installations of Rijksakademie OPEN 2014 and VamPiranesi, in which I meant to bring the work, the visitors and the exhibition space closer together.
Why did you have the visitors of your presentation walk on “fragile” tape?
I was looking for something content wise to protect against the fragility of ceramics. Instead of excluding the fragility, I wanted to confront vistors with it the moment they entered the presentation. In that presentation, I played with power and fragility. For instance, there was also a clay pallet jack, and a female bodybuilder who lifted me up with a series of different holds and grips.
What sort of sculpture is the Lizard Lounge?
It is a sculpture you can enter. The Lizard Lounge is an homage to the hangout place at the Dutch post master residency Rijksakademie. My residencies at the European Ceramic Work Centre and at artist’s foundry Gieterij Beeldenstorm taught me a great deal about materials and techniques. The most valuable thing Rijksakademie gave me was getting to know the staff and residents from around the world, and the various ways in which they worked and lived. Running into each other in the Cantina and the Lizard Lounge every day for two years – that nourished my work in an informal way.
What is the origin of the title of VamPiranesi?
The title is a contraction of the word ‘vampire’ and Piranesi. The wall of polystyrene foam is a copy of the wall of the exhibition space behind it. I wanted to turn that wall into a ruin, to invoke Piranesi’s etchings of the ruins of Rome. What’s enviable about those etchings to me is that the crumbling architecture, whose original form you can still make out, is equal in importance to the overgrown fragments and debris that are no longer recognisable. The exhibition space is in Tilburg; the vampire on top of the wall as a ‘rückenfigur’ was also intended as a reference to the haunted mansion and the well-known funfair in Tilburg.
Why is there a T-rex skeleton in the presentation?
Making my own dinosaur is a boyhood dream of mine. As a sculptor, I wanted to make a grand gesture. I thought it would be exciting to relate the Rijksakademie gate to the Jurassic Park entrance. And I came that the ruins of Rome juxtaposed nicely with Jurassic Park, two reserve areas for giants and that weird thing with time.
