With: Andreas BlankAntonia CarraraWijnand de JongeJob KoelewijnClaire Makhlouf CarterKatrina Palmer

Laurie Cluitmans Monday, 2 July 2012, 18:19To: Wijnand de JongeThe scene changes to an empty room? Sent message

Dear Wijnand,

Hopefully this email finds you well. How is London?

It was nice finally, although briefly, meeting over Skype and I am looking for-ward to starting our collaboration at De Fabriek.

It will be a challenge, I think, to follow up on De Fabriek’s invitation. It feels a bit like a professional blind date. Yet at the same time it is an instruction for us (to en)act, perform, respond. It reminded me of the instruction works of the sixties and seventies: Bruce Nauman ordering himself to walk around in the studio in an exaggerated manner; Yoko Ono instructing to paint; John Cage enforcing a ‘silence’ composition. Consisting of simply written (or dictated) texts, outlining a set of conditions for the artist himself or someone else to follow, these instruction pieces realized the art object in its textual form. Sometimes leading to fabricated objects, executed performance, some-times just a text. What intrigues me, however, is that the instruction here is not just a tool for something else. It does not just dissolve the moment the instruction is enacted. Rather, it is an instigator for potential moments to fol-low.

If De Fabriek’s invitation is an instruction and blind date, it might be consid-ered as one of Absolute Zero. Perhaps like a tabula rasa, a clean slate from which to start anew. So, before anything, the scene changes to an empty room. But as with each clean slate, (and as modernism’s legacy has proven) it is never really clean, it is never really empty, it is never just a monochrome. References, histories (however small), or memories step in.

Well, I’m looking forward to starting or actually continuing our dialogue and to inviting other artists to join us at De Fabriek.

Warmest from Istanbul,

Laurie.

Wijnand de Jonge Tuesday, 27 November 2012, 23:11To: Laurie CluitmansRe:Re:Re:The scene changes to an empty room? Sent message

Dear Laurie,

It was great seeing you at De Fabriek this morning. I am writing this email in the basement, in order to briefly escape the pressing matters of the exhi-bition space! And yes - it is very cold here too! However it gives me some time to reflect. You were right when you wrote that the premise of the show, and its title The Scene Changes to an Empty Room, arose from our starting point when we embarked on the project as perfect strangers, grappling with a gigantic blank canvas. The more time I spend in this place, the more I real-ize the assumption that this building would ever function as an empty shell was unfounded. Like many buildings, it is informed by its own history. Traces of art projects, politics, and parties fill this seemingly empty space, and as for us, we never started this project from neutral standpoints.

At this point in time, however, the title of the exhibition relates well to the transitional stage of the exhibition, where the past slowly moves into the present. Even though things might look somewhat fragmented at the mo-ment, I am sure everything will fall into place. Beforehand, I had hoped that the show would oscillate between precision and experimentation, and it looks like this may well happen.

Here are some points that we should organize before the weekend:1. Get a quote for the rental monitor (Paul will collect by car)2. Make a hotel booking for Claire, Katrina and Rachel (for the 8th of Decem-ber)3. Send invites for the dinner party

There is probably more to discuss, but I will call you tomorrow and see you on Monday.

Best,W.

ForewordOn the 8th of December 2012, the group exhibition The Scene Changes to an Empty Room opened in De Fabriek, Eindhoven

with a presentation by Claire Makhlouf Carter, a reading by Katrina Palmer and an exhibition of work by Andreas Blank,

Antonia Carrara, Wijnand de Jonge and Job Koelewijn.

For more than thirty years, De Fabriek

has provided residency opportunities

for artists. It is a space run by artists

for artists, an ethos that underpins all

its activities. As a democratic and non-

hierarchical organization, De Fabriek

offers artists a place to retreat from

their usual surroundings and take on

the challenge of creating and exhibiting

their work in its monumental, industrial

space. Within the context of this history

and practice, The Scene Changes to

an Empty Room was a rather unusual

experiment. The premise of the

show was based on the concept of a

professional ‘blind date’ that took place

between the two of us: artist Wijnand

de Jonge and curator Laurie Cluitmans.

Previously unknown to one another, on

invitation by De Fabriek, we engaged

in an ongoing dialogue that took place

over several months, culminating in

a residency and exhibition. We both

invited other artists to participate in

the show, including: Andreas Blank,

Antonia Carrara, Job Koelewijn, Claire

Makhlouf Carter and Katrina Palmer.

We would like to thank De Fabriek for

their invitation. In particular, we would

like to thank Koen Dijkman for initiating

this project and for his continuous

support throughout the exhibition

period.

A special thanks to Paul Verwilligen,

‘Paultje’, for his unremitting technical

support and energy. Furthermore,

we would like to thank Gemeente

Eindhoven and Provincie Noord Brabant

for their generous financial support.

Last but not least, we would like to

thank the artists; Andreas Blank, Antonia Carrara, Job Koelewijn, Claire Makhlouf Carter and Katrina Palmer for their participation.

Laurie Cluitmans & Wijnand de Jonge

Intr

od

uct

ion

The Scene Changes to an Empty Room‘Nothing is more real than nothing.’ Samual Beckett, Malone Dies

‘Empty’:Old English æmtig, æmetig

‘at leisure, empty’, from æmetta ‘leisure’,

perhaps from a ‘no, not’ + mot ‘meeting’1

When contemplating emptiness, one is

led to consider the related concepts of

absence, nothingness, ephemerality,

silence, destruction and negation.

In the past century, emptiness in

art has manifested itself in different

disguises, from the modernist myth

of a ‘zero point’ associated with the

desire for transcendence and purity, to

1 Oxford dictionary http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/empty?q=empty

institutional critique.

In 2009, the Kunsthalle Bern organized

a retrospective of voids ‘displaying’ nine

historical and contemporary exhibitions

that each left the exhibition space

austerely empty.

In his search for the physical

limitations of the art object, Robert

Barry presented one of the first empty

exhibitions - Some places to which we can come, and for a while “be free to think about what we are going to do (Marcuse)” 1970 - in which, according

to Kunsthalle Bern, Barry pointed

out that ‘the substance of the work

is situated as much in the mind of

those who contemplate it as it is in the

empty space.’2 Art & Language, in a

similar vein, with their Air Conditioning

Show (1966-67) (what did this show

consist of?) revealed art’s deeply

rooted connection to its discursive and

institutional context. More recently,

Roman Ondak (2006) left the exhibition

2 Curated by Laurent Le Bon, John Armleder, Mathieu Copeland, Gustav Metzger, Mai-Thu Perret, and Clive Phillpot, and featuring Yves Klein, Robert Barry, Art & Language, Stanley Brouwn, Laurie Parsons, Bethan Huws, Robert Irwin, Maria Eichhorn, Roman Ondak.

space empty, hinting at contemporary

art’s ‘make believe’ as one would point

to the emperor’s new clothes as simply

not being there.

Laurie Cluitm

ans

Imagine walking through an entirely

abandoned museum: with each and

every space deserted, with only white

walls, windows, perhaps a radiator,

and a small wall plaque referring to the

historical void the space represents.

An empty museum, serving to remind

us of what it was that once ‘filled’

it. The plaques and labels make the

invisible present, turning the void

both into the object and its subject.

By refusing the visible, and focusing

instead on acts of disappearance and

de-materialization, the Kunsthalle Bern

displayed a history of artistic breaches.

It reflected on existing conventions

of reality and perception, the art

institution and the art historical context,

in order to contemplate its own status.

In its accumulation, the 'nothingness'

represented in Bern presents a

paradox. In a similar vein, can

the monochrome ever really be a

monochrome, given the canvas’s

innate physicality and textured grain?

Likewise, John Cage’s 4’33’’ was

never really a score of silence, but

rather one revealing the composition

of everyday sounds. As Susan Sontag

once eloquently wrote: As long as the

human eye is looking there is always

something to see. To look at something

that’s “empty” is still to be looking,

still to be seeing something – if only

the ghosts of one’s own expectations.

In order to perceive fullness, one must

retain an acute sense of the emptiness,

which marks it off; conversely, in order

to perceive emptiness, one must

apprehend other zones of the world as

full.3

Despite the impossibility of literal

silence and emptiness, the desire for

a break with the visible and a tendency

towards minimalism was, and still is,

a central theme in Art which has been

referenced throughout the 20th century

on up to the present (as shown so

clearly in the exhibition in Kunsthalle

Bern). Perhaps it has become even

more pertinent now, as we are

constantly flooded with imagery in the

3 Susan Sontag, The Aesthetics of Silenc, in Studies of Radical Will, chapter 1. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1969; Anchor Books, 1981; Picador USA, 2002.

digital, globalized world.

One could even state that the desire to

create a tabula rasa, from which a new

chapter can be written, is inherently

part of the contemporary human

condition.

Laurie Cluitm

ans

In our image-saturated society, we

have been taught to read these images

quickly, to connect the dots and read

their patterns in order to make sense

of them. Like with ‘pareidolia’, in which

illusions, misperceptions even, and

vague (or obscure) stimuli are perceived

as something clear and distinct – we

have been taught to read patterns

quickly with only hints of images. The

most famous examples of pareidolia

would be perceiving a rabbit or a face on

the surface of the moon, or armies in

clouds and the Virgin Mary in a piece of

toast. The shapes, lines and shadows

connect to our interests, to the familiar,

and to our desires and obsessions

to create visual illusions. Perhaps

with a breach of the visual (rephrase/

repetition), these patterns can be

broken and new things can be seen.

The gap, breach or pause does

not simply have to lead to the

nonrepresentative. The desire or quest

for this breach does not necessarily

have to lead to nihilism.

Rather, it could offer the possibility of a

renewed sensitivity towards the visual,

reactivating the perception of reality and

creating a different kind of awareness

of things and phenomena that are not

visible at first sight.

If we aim to talk about emptiness, the

scene does not have to be empty.

In this exhibition it is not a literal

silence, nor a literal emptiness or a

literal nothingness, that is at its core.

Through a presentation, a reading,

and video and sculptural installations.

Each work in the show subtly explores

these notions in different ways, whether

directly or indirectly dealing with these

notions of emptying out, seeing/reading

a new and projecting upon an empty

screen. Whether through sculptural

attempts to convey or consolidate our

expectations of an object, or through

more ephemeral performances that try

to grasp the art object through words,

the works in the exhibition are ‘props’ in

their new scene.

As the title of the exhibition suggests,

the objects act like props on a stage,

awaiting a different kind of discourse to

unfold.

-Laurie Cluitmans, 2013

Laurie Cluitm

ans

Art

ists

De Jonge presents an installation

composed of several elements that

all relate to his expanding ‘archive’

based around the mythological figure

of the Janus – the ancient Roman God

of beginnings and endings, gateways

and openings and closings, who, with

his two faces, was believed to see into

the past and the future at once. In De

Jonge’s work, the Janus has become a

metaphor for his concept of the archive

as a constantly evolving entity and point

of contingency between the past and

future. His work has involved research

into an exponential catalogue of existing

Janus artefacts and items that have

undergone a process of re-imagining in

the production of an eclectic series of

sculptural works. Renato Bertelli’s 1933

sculpture, Head of Mussolini, has been

an object of particular interest, itself

inspired by the Janus and interesting in

terms of its changing status from item of

fascist memorabilia around the time of its

creation, to its current status as iconic

Futurist artwork.

Installed centrally in the exhibition was

a rectangular, glass encased plinth (the

base covered in a grey transportation

blanket) that displayed several items;

an Italian newspaper reporting the

death of Mussolini, a paper file, and a

circular plaster mould for R.A Bertelli’s

1933 sculpture Head of Mussolini. The

juxtaposition of a beginning (the mould

as the starting point for a sculpture) and

an ending (the death of Mussolini), within

the same frame, throws up a complex set

of questions associated with the unstable

status of art objects held within archives.

The transitory, ephemeral nature of

the replication, display and storage of

artworks is further emphasized in another

grouping of elements to one side of

the space. Two cast, blackened, shiny,

circular plaster replicas of the Head

of Mussolini sculpture are displayed

within two plastic domestic storage tubs

positioned on the floor. These items are

framed by a wall of wallpaper. The faded

pink, screenprinted wallpaper design

consists of what is reminiscent of a

decorative 18th-century wreath design

that is interspersed with hand drawn

images of different depictions of the

Janus. Within De Fabriek, the wall paper

is at odds with the industrial setting,

and juxtaposes it with a more refined,

domestic environment. By focusing on

the fabric of the building in this way, the

wallpaper also highlights the temporality

of the artists who pass through the

building, making their mark for a short

time, only for it to inevitably be covered

up and painted over to make way for new

residents.

In this dense and multi-layered work,

de Jonge deconstructs the conceptual

and physical aspects involved in

the production, storage, exhibition

and interpretation of artworks within

museums and archives.

Wijn

and

De

Jon

ge

At first glance, Andreas Blank’s desk

appears to be like any ordinary desk.

On top, some paraphernalia are neatly

displayed; a half-full cup, a box and a

documentation folder. The desk could

be found in any artist’s studio or any

work space, for that matter. However,

upon closer inspection each element

(including the trestle table itself) can

be seen to have been meticulously

hand carved from a variety of precious

stones sourced from quarries from all

over the world. In this way, the work

relates to the history of stone carving

within art history and sculpture where

materials such as marble, alabaster

and limestone were traditionally used

to sculpt objects of political or religious

significance. In Blank’s work, however,

it is the mundane, everyday objects

which gain this monumental status,

through being rendered by this same,

traditional process.

In his work, Blank plays tricks with

our expectations and perceptions. For

example, what at first appears to be

a crumpled A4 white sheet of paper

in a black frame hanging modestly on

one wall of the exhibition, is actually

made from carved white marble (the

paper) and black alabaster (the frame).

From a distance, this work could be

viewed as a pun on modernist nihilism,

but up close, it reveals a material

sensibility that goes beyond a simple

juxtaposition of abstraction and reality.

An

dre

as B

lan

k

The four structures by Antonia

Carrara, although different in size

and composition, have several

characteristics in common. Referring

to, or abstracted from, library ladders,

they each have turned into display

structures or screens. As the library

ladder would ordinarily rest against

the bookshelves, waiting for that one

story to be picked up from the long

forgotten top shelf, the structures

encourage a more abstract reading.

As displays or screens, they wait for

images to appear in one’s imagination.

The wood pattern for example – in

which one might read and recognize

patterns, symbols, faces, and natural

hallucinations – is enhanced by the

photocopied print, simultaneously

presenting the sculpture’s material

and its reproduction. Several copies of

an eighties photo romance magazine

– shot like film stills and flattened

out, they tell stories of love and petty

drama – inject possible narratives and

emotions.

In their new setting, however, we can

no longer browse their pages. On a

largely empty screen, in one corner, a

projection of a small booklet, almost

transparent, is seen, its pages at fixed

intervals turn slowly. Each page is

blank. We read everything and nothing.

An

ton

ia C

arra

ra

For some time, Dutch artist Koelewijn

would take a small break from visual

reality. By secluding himself in an

empty and dark room, or by simply

blindfolding himself in his studio, he

would engage in what he called 'visual

fasting'. While pursuing a clean and

empty state of mind, he would try to

block out all images imposing on his

mind, in order to become receptive

again and to see the world afresh. The

short video Jump can be read from this

perspective. From what appears to be

a deep hole in the ground, we see a

man – the artist himself – jumping up

and down. Sometimes he succeeds

in jumping as high as to briefly peak

over the edges of the hole. At first, this

attempt appears humorous. However,

as the artist continues and becomes

more and more visibly exhausted, the

emphasis turns towards the sincerity

of this effort. In not giving up, he tries

to reach his goal, however purposeless

and absurd it might seem.

Jo

b K

oel

ewijn

Contrasting the physicality of the

works of Andreas Blank, Wijnand de

Jonge and Antonia Carrara, Claire

Makhlouf Carter and Katrina Palmer

present a different kind of search for

the sculptural object and its possible

meaning. Claire Makhlouf Carter’s

work, DEMO DE FABRIEK departs from the

format of the artist talk and lecture.

Through a carefully scripted lecture,

a situation is created in which the

audience is never really sure where the

line between fact and fiction lies.

DEMO DE FABRIEK is delivered by a

presenter, Rachel Cockburn, who

addresses the audience in a direct,

matter of fact tone. As she delivers

her lecture, Rachel announces Claire’s

absence, and speaks from her own

perspective as a temporary worker

while referring to the artist who had

issued her with precise instructions.

Amongst other topics, Rachel talks

about, ‘self-immolation’ and ‘the

smell of fear’. Throughout the event,

an unsettling atmosphere is created

in which the audience experiences

a growing sense of unease that

continues long after the lecture

itself has finished. By focusing on

performative side effects, such as

labour relations, sensory stimuli

and nerves of both the presenter

and the audience coming into play,

Carter highlights those aspects of

performance that problematize the

complacency of shared experience and

the document.

Cla

ire

Mak

hlo

uf

Car

ter

Imagine a school for sculpture, not just

your average school, rather one with

the explicit instruction to not produce

any objects or physical works, a school

with only one student. This is the

scenario of Katrina Palmer’s book The Dark Object. As the rector of the school has it:

‘Words combine and produce volume

you know, growing into some grossly

uncontrollable excess of textual

representation, … obscene.’

In her artistic practice, Palmer turned

away from the actual physical object,

towards locating the sculptural object

in fictional narratives and live readings.

For De Fabriek, Palmer gave a reading

of 'Under the Desk'. As often occurs

in her stories, (artist) protagonists

negotiate the physical, imaginary and

sexual dynamics of fictional spaces,

juxtaposing the conceptual, discursive

with the object. Palmer narrates a

dialogue between two characters.

Struggling to communicate with one

another, they have a conversation that

ranges from the absurd to the painful.

Kat

rin

a Pa

lmer

Laurie Cluitmans is an art historian and curator based in Amsterdam.

After studying Art History and Communication Studies at the University of Amsterdam, she

became gallery director at Galerie Fons Welters.

In addition she regularly writes for art-magazines such as MetropolisM.

Together with Arnisa Zeqo she won the Young Curator’s Grant of De Hallen Haarlem for

which they curated the group exhibition: He Disappeared into Complete Silence: Rereading

a Single Artwork by Louise Bourgeois in 2011. Since then they have regularly collaborated

on exhibitions, such as for the Autonomy Project. In 2012 Cluitmans and Zeqo completed a

research residency in Istanbul, titled The Creation of Alphabets and the Politics of the Self.

Laurie Cluitm

ans W

ijnand de Jonge

Wijnand de Jonge is a Dutch artist who lives and works in London. He graduated from the

Royal College of Art with an MPhil by project in 2011. He undertook, between 2001-2003,

a two year residency at de Ateliers in Amsterdam. He regularly exhibits his work both in

London and internationally.

His art practice is underpinned by a re-imagining of existing archival systems in relation

to the art object. The conceptual framework for his practice is based on retracing the

trajectories of existing items that derive from a wide range of public collections, such

as; archives, museums and storage depots. The concept of the archive is also explored

in terms of the physical structures of cataloguing, display and storage that uphold the

narrative constructs of the museum. Vitrines, plinths, wall plaques and storage crates all

figure in his work, and are reconstructed with subtle transgressions.

Text

Laurie Cluitmans, Wijnand de Jonge

English editing

Sally Reynolds, Lilly Chamberlain

Photograpy

Peter Cox, Koen Dijkman, Laurie Cluitmans

Design

Bureau KD

Special thanks to

De Fabriek, Koen Dijkman, Paul Verwillige,

Ilse Pasman, Sally Reynolds, Lilly Chamberlain,

Grafisch Atelier Daglicht, Wendela de Jonge,

Klazien de Vries, Steven ten Thije and Swinkels

glas Eindhoven.

The Exhibition and publication made possible by

Gemeente Eindhoven and Provincie Noord-Brabant.

Ack

no

wle

dge

men

ts

Baarstraat 38

5615 RS, Eindhoven

www.defabriekeindhoven.nl

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may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or

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