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Rob Perrée on the work of Eveline van Duyl
Contrasts. That was the first word that came to mind when I saw the latest presentation by the artist from Zeeland Eveline van Duyl. In the gallery were three large sculptures, while three medium-sized photographs were hanging on the wall. The photos, however different from each other, all have positive elements. A Surinamese woman who uses her proud aura to colour her architectural surroundings pink, almost literally, an almost naked young man who jumps in the air above several lamps that shine their light on his crotch and a virile young man on an enormous tree root who feels he is lord and master. Beautiful images, with refined lighting, well composed, with a touch of mystery, with enough initiatives for an exciting, unpredictable story.
In addition, to put it disrespectfully, the needle and thread sculptures. Made of… well, of what? Of all kinds of unused materials. A wheelchair, leatherette headrests, Kashmir table clothes, metal connectors, pieces of wood, gaffer tape, etc. Any waste product looks as if it was useful. There’s a life-sized black woman who is moving in her vulnerability. She is made up of many separate elements, that are strung together carelessly. She has a bare behind and is standing ashamed in her corner. The lack of identity seems to belittle her. At the back of the space is a “horse” that thanks its dominance to its size, but a second glance reveals that it is so impossibly “constructed” – its constituent parts have so little to do with each other – that you are afraid for the figure seated on top. That human figure also happens to be made up of dozens of small pieces of wood. The sculpture reminds me of treasures that have been stuffed or reduced to skeletons in a natural history museum and that are intended in the long run to make me yearn for living sequels. They only serve to emphasise the inevitable mortality of life for me.
In the work “Go like Eliah” from 2002, the impotence has become very concrete. A wheelchair covered in tapestries is restrained by four horses’ heads that all want to go the other way. Even though they are at a gallop, the chair seems not to budge an inch. The sculpture is very tactile – I always want to rub my hands on the tapestries on the tables in old-fashioned bars – but I scarcely dare touch it, because I don’t want to take sides in the battle.
Eveline van Duyl regards her photo works and sculptures as equal parts in an overall installation. As if the images on the wall have to create a climate in which impotence is acceptable on the floor. As if beauty on the walls has to mitigate the ugliness in the space. But the opposite effect is also possible. As if the photos dramatise the battle of the sculptures. As if they amplify the contradiction.
That’s the effect they have on me.
Published in Kunstbeeld, March 2003