Keyhole

THE KEYHOLE WOMAN

There are ‘before  days’ and ‘after days’. On ‘after days’ I count my treasures. The day before I had worked on a female figure, a ‘woman with her open head ‘ for many hours in my ‘castle studio’ back in my garden. A streak of light enters her skull, suddenly turning the outside world into something valuable.
Or the other way around, when you look at her from behind, peeping through the keyhole, you can enter the room of her thoughts. This sculpture I set up quite differently. Her body arises in the open space, and she does not dry up while lying down. She emerges from the void, without supporting frames or forms.
I would like to cross her body with lines from plateau to plateau, because her body is a fantastic city of organs, bones and muscles. Hence I fabricated thick ribs, that are supposed to give adhesion to her interior. I imagined the thick ribs to be absorbed all by them selves, when they are being plastered with fresh clots of moist paste.
Roller coasters of grimy substance will become fly-overs to her heart, her womb; the nursery room and, who knows, maybe to the wings of her hips.  Her head has already coagulated into its final form and is resting on a wooden stick. I can alter its height, just as I need to, in order t build out her body downwards. Where does her body end? I  don’t even know whether she will have legs.
Actually  it is like she emerges from a lake and while she approaches, you get to see more and more of her naked body. No shame, no shame at all. At this moment I am working at the height of her breasts and I have not quite arrived at her waistline.
Because of this procedure she will embody a proud attitude, with her spine straight and strong. From underneath her a breast begins to emerge and from somewhere at the place of her heartbeat a protecting hand shows up. Her breast is a ripe fruit, just before it’s juice is bursting out. She blossoms like a woman for her child. I don’t have to sculpture the infant though, because what is left out tells its own story.

A SWINE FLOATING IN THE AIR

That was all the ‘before day’. Before I would meet a horse, a horse and a wolf, a swine and a boy. After a visit to a city of black boxes in an exhibition space in the harbour area, I stood before a wolfs breast as high as a house. I was in complete astonishment, while holding on to the steering wheel of my bike. The holy double doors of a studio had been opened.
A swine is floating in the air and there’s a horse standing in the corner. There are no words to describe how happy a large animal makes me. The artist and I start talking about supporting materials, surfaces and how he is doing these days.
I know I am in someone’s privite paradise.
The gigantic wolf will soon be cut into pieces and he will even be welded into bronze. Fire will enhance his beauty and all of his interior parts will disappear and be hewn into pieces.”He will become a landscape”, the artist says. Like always, when I see a monumental sculpture, some kind of joy overwhelms me. A fountain of happiness starts sparkling, because something impressive out the dream world has become real.

To be continued…