We find with great pleasure his works – older or more recent and never before seen – which are both superbly painted in the style of the old masters and are imbued with enigma. There reigns a gentleness mixed with a strange violence contained in apparently banal views sometimes seeming to be taken from old albums. In the portrait gallery in the last room, no one is looking straight on. We are faced with a disturbing strangeness that Freud or Magritte would not have denied. A view of our humanity.
Borremans is a figurative and even narrative artist. He tells us stories with his works to which he adds enigmatic titles. But these narratives elude us. He doesn’t give us the keys. History unfolds before us and we only see strange traces of it. This little girl’s face with closed eyes: is she dead? Is she sleeping? These funny pope hats, what are they for? From what past do they arise?
The Borremans exhibition at Bozar
The portrait of a young boy seems very classic but two rays come out of his eyes, both the rays of holiness in old paintings and laser rays of today. In The Lid, he painted a body a young body, apparently in good health, but the face covered with a lid, which recalls the coins placed on the deceased so that they pay for their journey to the kingdom of the dead.
In Fire from the Sun, we see cherubim apparently fallen from grace, gnawing on lost limbs. In this exhibition, these are the only figures that do not remain still.
There is almost never any blood or explicit suffering. But the anxiety is often even stronger. Michaël Borremans avoids any detail that could date or geographically place the subject.
Even if he took up painting late (33 years old) after having first been a draftsman, he is in the lineage of the great painters of the history of Art, such as Velázquez, Chardin or Manet, artists he admires, while creating deeply contemporary work.
The first room with three small paintings is like an announcement of the sequel?
There is a mask, like an anonymous but transparent face. It is a still life that vibrates with color and shadow. Opposite there is Sleeper, a sleeping child, also reminiscent of death. The mask is more animated than the person! In all my work, there is this tension between what is animated and what is dead. The red and green hands are mine but also those of the spectator. I only wanted to show paintings at Voorlinden in this series of very white, almost sacred rooms. It’s a selection of my favorite paintings, more than my best known paintings. For example, I like the little painting with a shoe and a brick.
The title of the exhibition “A Confrontation at the Zoo” is strange.
It is inspired by the last room, with eleven portraits which have no function, which have nothing to do with the individuality of the models. I like to disrupt the genre of portraiture. Sometimes I expressly put strangeness into it, but it is often spontaneous linked to my personality. It would take psychoanalysis, which I have not done, to know it.
We talk about your paintings, Van Eyck, Chardin?
You can add Velázquez, Manet, Goya, I have a lot of favorites. I try to give several layers to my paintings: one person can appreciate the poetry, another will look for the concept hidden behind, still another will appreciate the metaphor or an implicit dialogue with painters of the past. I like a painting to have several reasons for being.
Art market: Record for Michael Borremans
Take the example of The Egg with six almost identical paintings, of a girl placing her hands on an egg. Or Fire from the Sun?
In “The Egg”, the girl puts her hands over the egg, doesn’t touch it and could possibly crush it. I’m leaving this open. It’s this implicit tension that interests me, like the repetition of this image which gives a feeling of urgency. On the wall opposite, there is another repetition with a girl eating a piece of toast. I didn’t initially have the idea of doing series. But when I lined them up against the wall of my studio I said to myself that it was a magnificent installation. Jan Hoet who liked me loved it. “Fire from the Sun” is completely different. It’s a series of large paintings, very theatrical, more animated than my usual works, that I made for an exhibition in Hong Kong. With little children painted red playing with blood and severed limbs. And this suggests cannibalism, violence, but linked to small children who are presumed innocent. In the history of art, little children are always cherubs, angels. I wanted to turn that around. It’s beautiful and it’s a little shocking at the same time. This provides a commentary on the human condition, on violence, on the irresponsible way in which we consume our world. This series has sparked some controversy on social media in Asia and America. I have finally become a controversial artist! (smile).
Does your art have a political significance?
It’s almost always a commentary on the human condition. But sometimes it’s more poignant like here. It’s never direct, literal. I never make simple illustrations. We are conditioned to see images as illustrations to manipulate us or to charm us. Not all of us are aware of their powerful psychological impact and how they influence politics, economics. The Nazis used it very effectively. Art can then be a force to thwart this. We see this clearly with the success of museums and how people look for different things that give them awareness, an identity outside the world of consumption. We look for meaning in things and often we look for it in paintings because they are each time unique.
You are a reference in contemporary art but what does it mean to you? Who are the current artists that you appreciate?
Contemporary art is going in all directions, it’s very interesting. We are in a revolutionary period. Before, there was an evolution, avant-gardes, now everything is there and we see a lot of artists who create syntheses. Everything has become possible and everything has become, moreover, accepted! Each artist is his own avant-garde. It also gives a feeling of chaos which is a form of energy. I like contemporary artists who are very different from me, like Paul McCarthy because he is really crazy, he inspires me, he has courage, he dares to do everything, I admire that. He has no limits, he is wild. But I’ve also loved Miriam Cahn for twenty years, her work is very special, it’s magnificent. At first, I didn’t know what to think of it, but the more I know his work, the more I appreciate it. It’s crazy but also very moving. She uses very strong, strange colors.
gullI try to give several layers to my paintings.
Your Belgian gallery, Zeno X, is closing, are you no longer represented in Belgium?
I work exclusively with David Zwirner who is present all over the world. It’s very convenient for me and gives me a lot of peace. He can invest in me.
We are celebrating the hundredth anniversary of the surrealist manifesto. Do you feel in their lineage?
Of course, following the Dada movement and surrealism. I am very influenced by creators like Bunuel or Man Ray. Magritte too, of course, but it’s in my unconscious. As children, we were already immersed in his world as in those of Van Eyck and Ensor. These painters are in our roots. There is of course Belgian art. Belgium is certainly a fairly young country, but there is an attitude, a Belgian culture, as evidenced by Tintin, Arno or Brussels which is so Belgian with all of Belgium’s problems. It’s sad that the first skill that was split between the two communities was culture. You French speakers, for example, have magnificent directors, you know how to use this language with its poetry unlike us in Flanders. The Dardennes, Bouli Lanners… There is a unique cinematographic culture. In Flanders, we don’t know what is happening at the cultural level in Wallonia, there is not enough communication. My workshop in Ronse is near the linguistic border.
Michaël Borremans, Voorlinden museum, near The Hague, until March 23. You can combine the visit with that of the very beautiful exhibition comparing works on night and darkness and Spilliaert and Dirk Braeckman at the Kunstmuseum in The Hague until January 12.
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