beinArt interview with Erik Heyninck by Elspeth McIntosh.
Elspeth McIntosh- Erik, I do enjoy being given the task of asking you some interview questions when your beinart.org artist’s statement ends with “Because reality manifests itself in the space between the question and the answer, I prefer to live with the question and refuse to answer it.” I feel like there is a locket that needs opening with the right key.
How do you start an artwork, as an automatist, or with the concept already prepared?
Erik Heyninck- Before answering, I’d like to say that I have a contract with myself that allows me to create everything I like to create. No censorship, no false morality. I’m busy creating my own Universe and that’s a holy activity of anarchistic love and utterly serious and well-organised playfulness.
I start by feeling restless and showing the “leave me alone, will ya!” signs. Then I start to worry, feeling like as if I’ll be unable to tune in to the high frequency of Inspiration. Images whirl around in my mind and I usually have no idea what I am going to create.
In case I do have an idea, which usually presents itself as a divisons of masses, or if I feel like starting a big work, I try to do some sketches to reduce the tension. But then suddenly I start. Sometimes I let myself be guided by those glimpses, and sometimes I start something completely different. The main flow of energy, which manifests itself as those typical shapes and forms, and which in my mind is endlessly moving, is easy to manipulate. I mean: it’s not really an automatic process as I am always consciously working but it’s not something I control either. I feel more like a participant in the creation, and whenever I want to change something, the shapes/textures change. Also, I always keep the most difficult part until the end: that way I avoid ending up on automatic pilot. I could never, for example, start with a thumbnail sketch, then create a full-size drawing, next a colour sketch and finally the “real” work. In that case, all the tension, all the fun lies at the start. I want intensity from start to finish.
All works take a lot of time, so everything I add would have been different if I had waited, say, a day and went on at that specific moment.
I’m often surprised to see what I created. Although I love my works, there’s always something I’d love to change. And when I take a closer look, there are some other details that need attention too. If the work is still home with me, I may rework it, yet I’ve agreed with myself only to rework the creations from the 21st C. The older ones I won’t touch anymore.
EM- Is Antwerp an inspiring city to live in?
EH- Things happen, like being born somewhere, and in my case it was Antwerp. Most people would be surprised how small the town-centre is, and although many of its old houses have been demolished between half-way the 19thC and today, there’s still enough left to get a good view of its former riches. I love some of its Musea, like the house of the Plantin printers family, but to be honest: although I only live some 5km (3miles) from it, I don’t go to town that much. In fact, I only go when I need something, or for a concert. Nearly never for an exhibition because unfortunately, all Art is circling around contemporary stuff. I’m not principally against that kind of activity but when explanations have to hide the lack of – or even replace the visible (or audible) I go elsewhere. Like to Brussels (at 40km) which I love. Then there’s Bruges at some 80km, and even Paris, at some 350km, can be reached by train in less than two hours. London is approximately at the same distance as Paris. It’s a small world…
So, at first sight there’s not much that inspires me. But life has many levels, and there’s something hanging around here that would be hard to find anywhere else. Antwerp has always been one of the more important cities of Brabant, and many a Fantastic Artist was born there, including Brueghel and Bosch. Which is why I sometimes say that I’ve been born in Antwerp to have some roots in that fertile soil. Also, Antwerp has always been a rebellious city…
Another approach of why I love living in a bigger city is that one never forgets all the hopelessness, the misery, the intolerance, the confusion, the manipulated consuming, the hunger, the fear etc. We’re all so fragile, and nowhere that’s a clear as in a city. In a city it’s easier to isolate oneself like an alchemist, to concentrate and not be noticed and still be aware of the tensions all around so one can go on weaving. It’s easy to become a saint in a monastery, far from the madding crowd. But we live here, in the world, and as we are the creative isotope of humankind can show a way out of those illusions (with illusion I don’t mean that they aren’t real, but simply that they are convictions and that things are never what they appear to be).
EM- How long does it take for you to produce something like the painting Andromeda (right)? How do you feel by the end of the process?
EH- If I remember well, Andromeda cost me over four months, not including the musings before I started. It’s a very carefully planned work because I was in the mood to absolutely want to do something different. Even freedom can become a rut. I wanted to prove to myself I could, in my own way, create a classical painting. So I painstakingly made a kind of preparatory drawing, brooded on how to pose her (most paintings present her too elegantly posed, and I wanted her frozen with fear, covering her eyes yet wanting to see the threat and ready to run) , decided not to add a Perseus on the winged Pegasus, etc.
Painting was as pleasant as always. Something I learned when I was still a kid is the fact that long and intense concentration can be as relaxing as watching clouds go by or watching the rolling waves of the sea. So I usually end with a lot of physical and mental energy which I put to good use into a necessary cleaning of my studio.
Or go for a walk.
Speaking of Andromeda: I’m still a bit sad I won’t see her again as she was bought by a scuba diver whose name or whereabouts I do not know. It was love at first sight for him, but I’d love to see her again some day.
EM- I thoroughly enjoy being able to read your statements on each piece when you scroll the cursor over your images on your website… Especially considering that they are not statements which confuse and alienate people!
EH- Thanks. That’s exactly what I try: to be as less confusing as possible without explaining away. Creating an atmosphere, adding some detail that is linked to the work yet keep the mystery can bring people closer to what I create. This also helps clearing the mind. What I create is in itself already complicated enough. Showing any work of Art is more revealing than standing stark naked on a scene before a hostile crowd of psychiatrists, fashion gurus and cosmetic surgeons. So please, let’s keep it simple. There’s nothing to hide anymore as all has been revealed already. Some people want to be artists simply to be special, to be noticed. No better way to be noticed that simply be your own chaotic self I’d say.
BTW: I’m still working on those texts and more will be added, but the site is quite big and I need time. Time! Wish I could clone myself!
EM- The main objective of this interview is to pull away from the labels and associations of the “inner world” you are trying to depict which could be perceived as New Age or given stringent scientific classifications. As your work is so unusual and organic, it is hard for me to not dive in there and ask “Do you believe in magick?” Rather than do that I would like to steer you to expressing – in the most primal fashion – how you would describe your artwork and the physical process of making it. I see a strong interest in the occult in your formative years as an artist, rolling on from the energy of music-making and writing poetry to producing artwork. Is there a physical energy to the work that you make? Would you describe that force and how would you choose to inspire another artist with your description of the visceral energy of making artwork?
EH- The occult does play a big role in my life, but not in the sense of ceremonial magic. I’m not a practicing occultist. I’m more someone who loves life and who wonders why and how we tend to fall into habits of boredom and superficiality, and forget that we’re alive and busy with our life. I do have a very skeptic side though which makes me steer clear of New Age. Life to me is a force, a vital, conscious force, and we’re part of that. Magic to me is a synonym of “there’s more”. I’ve always wanted to know what lies beyond the horizon. Pronouncing the older names of stars aloud often gives me a mystical sense of being one with All. But I’m far too “radioactive” to get organised enough to start with something like ceremonial magic. Of course there’s no such thing as “inner and outer worlds” or “body and soul”. It’s the same inseparable manifestation on different levels of existence. The manifestations are temporal because they exist, the essence (ahhh…words!) is non-temporal because it is. I have witnessed an adept using his vocal chords change into a Solar body, I’ve had some OBE’s myself but that’s not what it’s all about.
I mean: we’re here in this manifestation, on this planet, in this aspect of reality and it’s here we clash like rocks in the same mountain stream, polishing one another. It’s here we live.
In my opinion, creativity means being conscious of the Lifeforce and actively wanting to participate in it. This implies that every experience must be consciously lived, also the harsh and more difficult ones. It’s impossible to open the tap to let one droplet pass and another one not. You cannot get the high peaks without the low pits. The Romantics insisted perhaps too much on “the suffering artist” but on the other hand one cannot be part of the creative processes and live at the same time like some starry-eyed Polyanna.
In my opinion, artists are outsiders, trying to find their way through the marshes of everyday life and its convictions. We can add something, which is more important than replacing it.
EM- Do you feel that this energy is locked away as an arcane secret, and should it remain mysterious like alchemical processes?
EH- When one observes pets, it becomes clear that these animals have at least a sense of second-sight. Some people also still have it, and you’ll find these mostly amongst those who are less educated. Thinking does clutter the mind, yet evolution takes us into the mental realm. I suspect that things like clairvoyance have been put into a kind of stasis until the mental has developed enough.
Trouble started when monotheism began. One God means one opinion is correct and the others aren’t. Within Christianity there was a tendency to eliminate all deviants, including those who might have been considered occultists and witches. Much got lost.
Are there really forces that are kept secret? And who guards them? I guess there are, and for two obvious reasons: the first is because of the greed and power-hunger that would make economy and bad army leaders abuse it, and the second because it’s best to protect the fragile egg-shell minds of us humans until we’re ready for it. The risk of raising the Snakeforce is big, and many paid their attempts with a lifetime spent in an asylum.
Thing is, this force is neither good nor bad but, to say it in political speak: you have to decide for yourself whether you’d like to use it like a Hitler or a Ghandi. Both changed the fate of several countries, but Hitler chose ego whilst Ghandi sacrificed his.
Of course we artists are not on that level of power. Luckily. (although Hitler was an artist; his watercolours are quite good). Our way is not to change the fate of nations, but to create , and through creation opening certain pathways into a more conscious life on more levels and with more intensity.
Mysterious the Lifeforce always is, because we cannot grasp it in its totality. Like the Chinese proverb goes: “A fish cannot know the water.” The necessary distance for objectivity isn’t possible because we’re totally embedded in life and outside of it nothing is or exists.
EM- Out of all of your works which is your favourite and why?
EH- I love all my work but I love some more than some others. And the one I love most is… the next one. There are new discoveries to be made, new difficulties to be met…
But if you insist on me naming an existing one, I’d choose without any hesitation a pencil drawing, and I’d go for Labyrinth VIII (right). Why? I use colour when I need to, and I consider colour, when compared to music, as orchestration. Yet, there’s beautiful music created for one solo instrument also. And often that music is more intimate, more delicate.
In comparison, my pencil works are often the deepest I can reach, and none goes as far as the Labyrinths VII (below right) and VIII. They radiate to me a kind of peace of mind I rarely know. To tell you a secret: in fact, the eight Labyrinth was originally meant to be surrounded by eight other works, one at each side, and one smaller square in each corner. And every measure respecting dynamic symmetry. The seventh Labyrinth was meant as either top or bottom, and the sixth as a side. But the turmoil of everyday life and its urgent basic banalities shook me out of the right tuning, and I haven’t found it again since. One day, and that day gets closer and closer, I will.
EM- Who are your three favourite artists?
EH- Only three? I’ll cheat. Max Ernst because of his enormous creativity. Like he said: “I never search, and I find inspiration everywhere.” But apart from him, I am divided. My “dark” side would choose Beksinski because of his uncomprimising intensity, my “harmonious” side would choose John William Waterhouse because of the purity of his poetry. His is a world I could live in. For a while that is, because I miss the “other, deeper side” and I would get bored. And my “artistic” side would choose William Bouguereau. To be able to draw and paint like him, combined with my imagination…mmm…
EM- Finally, how are you currently feeling about the future for contemporary art? What can you see past postmodernism?
EH- That’s a difficult one. Art to me is linked to life and culture and each culture always gets the Art it deserves. Nowadays, too much comes from the mind, from thinking, understanding, reducing, investing. And talking, lots of talking. Smooth talk, talk to impress, to destabilise, to make the listener feel inferior. Art has become something one can study. Like Quantum Physics.
Post-Modernism did re-introduce some ornaments, but only for a laugh, as a parody. I don’t know whether the word exists in English (I often invent words) but Post-Modern buildings are not very liveable. They’re cold, massive and meant to impress.
As for mainstream contemporary Art: in fact it all ended when Malevich exhibited a white canvas. At that moment, the experiment called “Modern Art” died of exhaustion. When Fontana exhibited a white canvas slashes with a knife he made it clear that he understood. But all the rest is acting as if. So to me, there’s no Post-Modernism because the end has been reached and beyond modernism there’s only a void. Like they say in London: “Mind the gap!” .Of course, many art lovers and art critics still go on playing the game to lure so-called art lovers into the web of sound investment. Malevich did not respect the conclusions he reached and ended up painting Renaissance-like portraits, and Fontana created many a slashed white canvas. After all, one must make a living.
But apart from mainstream Art, there’s still a very vital kind of counter-culture, a kind of Art that has always existed. From the caves of Lascaux, and even before, Art was linked to what is known as magic, meaning: to focus the imagination in order to alter outside reality. It has always been present, and now it is called “Fantastic Art”, “Fantastic Realism”, even “Visionary Art”. Imagination cannot die because it has not been created but always was, is and will be. What forms it will take, I don’t know. But I, for one, am getting acquainted with its force. Not to bend it to my ideas, but to co-operate with it. And that’s what I understand by success: not the price of a work, but the focused intensity with which the artist creates their works.
TOP
