War in Belgium

`WHAT IS GOING ON IN BELGIUM?` an unknown voice in my head said when I was trying to understand and capture the colour of the sea. Why would you paint something when you can take a picture of it? That at least I share with some digital artists. But anyway, politics? Why not? I will respond once more to the barbarians who believe that art is too much navel-string orientated. The idea that art should benefit to society somehow often comes down to the ultimate wish of everything remaining the same, like clinging to the past. Otherwise art would soon become a form of decadence, read blameworthy luxury.

Well, talent is also the flexibility to respond to what suddenly emerges. If you want you can call the series of twelve about the political situation in my home country: War in Belgium. The tone is set. Although I don’t like to explain my work. But isn`t giving a title to artwork the same?

Belgium is like the world: a source of pleasure and total bewilderment. I’m trying not to take sides. But, I am Flemish and there’s still something like history and the third law of Isaac Newton. There you go. What do I want? Practice. Because standing still is a cliché. Running in circles is out of the question. You learn from your mistakes, not from success. As an artist you can make two fatal mistakes: identifying yourself with success or identifying yourself with the lack of it. It seems that almost everyone is locked up in their head, resulting in an enormous silence. It reminds me of what you often see with psychiatric patients: an obsessive repetition of thought and behavioural patterns. On the other hand I consider the idea of a new emerging human species having to produce a new kind of art very presumptuous. Are we not all just mice trotting along the path of faith? And yet I love the sweet and sour taste of the search for a new style. Pushing further and coming back if I find something new. Without fear. Are we not all prisoners of our symbols that we consider universal? A lot of shapes are merely illusions, wrong impressions. A combination of expressive, figurative and abstract - soaked with symbolism. Nobody sees the same. In this sense, a form is a rationalized impression.

Belgium. While I’m living in a milder climate where I can eat and drink what I want and take care of myself when I’m sick. Even if I am a smoker. But, do you really have to be somewhere to know what’s going on? I was present at my birth but I can’t remember much about it. It also strikes me that most reflections are dated. Maybe this series is my settlement with my homeland? Who knows? I only ask the questions. Well over three and half years after Thirteen in a dozen.

The rhythm of painting. I was drowned in the series, which is almost a physical sensation. Anything goes. Without fear, without hesitation. Because fear paralyzes, because fear perpetuates. No waiting for Godot, but fighting the nonsense armed with paint. Painting subconsciously, and the self-conscious becomes the editor. Today. Because tomorrow there will be new voices dominating my brain. What do I want? And am I alone?

What do you expect? Because here is: War in Belgium. Without any shame. What do I think of it? Ask me again next year. You need to give these things time. And time will tell. So, do I qualify? Are you staying or do you want to leave? What shall we do? Fortunately, art critics are not natural scientists; they would probably not study gravity but regret it. Painting remains an existential need. With or without it, I remain very clumsy in this world. But... most of all I had a bloody good time painting this series. So I guess I will see you again next month. With or without any news.(www.froy.exto.org)