leonievanderplas

Empty stand (monday).

Halfway building up (tuesday).

Joop Stoop, Ulrik Holme Kristensen (DK), Mattijs Bredewold, Leonie van der Plas (missing: Hamid el-Kanbouhi, Wouter Cox, Jeroen Kuster)

Making business-cards (friday)

(picture: Frank van Vliet)

On saturday Jefta Hoed decided that he wanted to cut my hair, right at the RC de Ruimte-stand at Art Amsterdam. I couldn't resist. So he did, at 18.30. (Camera looking right into Willem Baars Projects).

I think the action of cutting my hair, was just the finishing touch to our stand, which was titled 'Jan Steen's kitchen'. (Actually, when I was a child my auntie used to cut my grandfather's hair in the kitchen).

Ready. My hair hasn't been cut this neetly for many years.

Sweeping something off my arm.

Hairs disappearing into the vacuum-cleaner, joining the dead bees of the Cokkie Snoei-stand. (Left-corner: my drawings)

The object in the corner is mine, the painting is made by Joop Stoop.

detail of one of my objects

Too many words? Please scroll down for images...

Of course, one never knows what one will decide in the very last minute, but I dare say after two months of hard working: 'my exhibition is coming into shape'. It turns out that two months is a perfect period for being decisive and having time to contemplate at once.
To be honest, I wasn't that convinced about it at all in the beginning (half of october). Joop (Stoop) from RC de Ruimte had invited me to come to work in their new projectspace. I would be their pre-resident - a great offer.

I didn't have anything in particular in mind when I started working in IJmuiden and I felt a bit frozen. I knew IJmuiden would be the right place for me.

IJmuiden is not the most pretty place on earth. It is a bit rough. It is dirty. It is functional. It has a beauty that doesn't reveal itself in a pleasurable way. It is great to stroll through the ports, to see the emptying of the fishingboats, a half rotten pier, a mass of seagulls fighting for some fish, the rubbish at the quays (which has quite a particular character), to see the workers working, to pass by club Waldolala and to discover the finest smoked salmon. People do not come here for fun (save club Waldolala).

There's a lighttower at the end of the street. My first days consisted of staring at this lighttower.

There it was, unmoving. Frozen.

I had loads of working-space, 70 square meters - something I'd been dreaming of in ancient times. There it was, a present and I didn't really understand how to unwrap. I kept on thinking: "it's to early for this. I want to be at home reading a book".

my first drawing in IJmuiden

Joop said: "Just do your thing." He was right. That's all there is about making art. Just doing your thing. But after my exams last summer at art school I'd completely lost the feeling about 'my thing'. Walking in the Scottish Highlands after these exams made it even worse: it made me realise that what really matters in life is walking in the Scottish Highlands, putting one foot before the other. Maybe drinking a fine single malt whisky afterwards. Having some hearty meal in a pub. Next day walking again. I didn't want to get back to sea-level afterwards.
"Relax. Just do your thing". Aha.

One important th

ing that I discovered in those years at art school was: play. The work that I loved most was the work that I had made when the working felt like playing. But my playfullnes was gone. No children allowed.

Also, I was hunted by a variety of thoughts, all beginning with the words: "This space is big enough to...."
O. There it was: my key. I just to decided to build a thing that would be too big for a smaller space.

That's how I started.
A bit reluctant in the beginning, maybe. But soon enough my days started to fill with 'being busy' in stead of 'staring at the lighttower'. But still: something was mumbling somewhere.

Then, one fine morning I discovered my new neighbour, Hamid (el-Kanbouhi). He had moved into the neighbouring space and, looking at his work, in one single view I saw the reflection of the things that matter to me when it comes to making art. Suddenly I understood what it meant, "doing your thing", and I realised that I had been doing my thing. I only hadn't felt so sure about it. In Hamid's work I saw that he was the master of his doing. I realised that I, me, was the only master of my work (haven't we heard this before?). I rediscovered how to breathe. Kick start. Vrrrrroooommmm.

Of course, from time to time, I still doubt about 'what is right'.
I want firmness, consistency (heigh ho! The opposite is part of it, too)
I want playfulness (cramp is related to that!)
I want so much more (and sometimes I see the work of other artists and it makes me feel so small - but actually: what is wrong about small?)

And that is that.

Meanwhile the big space has been filling up with the results of me 'doing my thing'. I feel a lucky bastard to get all this space to build what I want to build. Sometimes I can not help to think that I want to be a better artist, whatever that may be. I'll correct myself. I repeat: My work is the result of the process of me doing my thing. As an art student I have spend hours of talking about it, I have known days that I talked more about my work than I was actually working (sorry for the incovenience caused by the way I am formulating this, please send me an e-mail if you know an alternative for this sentence). I dare say that in IJmuiden I've found the holy grail of working as an artist (I am sure that I'll lose it again, one day, I can still see the lighttower in the corner of my eye). I can not tell wether there is a connection between this happening and the functionality at the port: nothing there is there for nothing. All you need to do is... do.
Uhuh.
There's a swoosh in the air.

Oh. And you're most welcome to have a look at Dokweg 37 on 6 (17.00), 7, 8, 9 or 10 january (13.00-17.00) 2010. Have a chat with Hamid or Joop or me.