Omjouwing

Omjouwing came from a transfixed question on what an “installation” is supposed to mean. From my understanding back then, it was often described as a three-dimensional and immersive work, in which the viewer also becomes a participant within the artwork itself. This in turn collided with the idea of changing the hierarchical position of the artist.

However, I never took much satisfaction with this answer: because if an installation has a predetermined beginning and end, given by the artist, then how inclusive can an installation become?

This eventually grew into a broader question on what ‘art’ is supposed to be. During inquiry, questions and personal talks, I would often hear themes of ‘inclusivity, community and collaboration’. But I never took much satisfaction with these answers either. Not because I am opposed to these answers, but because they felt unresolved: is there a true desire for inclusivity and community, or do we rather have a selective version of it? While idealising the idea that it would be grand for the whole world to be like us?

Omjouwing thus became an attempt of grounding this theoretical abstraction into something physical. It began as an intuitive attempt of relocating my studio into the exhibition space. This so that the site of production became visible, rather than the output. I’d hoped to suggest my mental state through the materials, and invite the ‘whole world’ to become part of it. Not knowing what that meant.

It started with a painting made from clay and found scraps, however, this was not the artwork. Then I added the broader context around the painting, supplying the materials that were needed to make the initial painting. However, yet again, this still wasn’t the artwork. Then I decided, why do I exclude myself as part of the material that was required for making this painting, and I added traces of my own consumption and thinking. This too, did not make the artwork.

Throughout the process, I became insecure about the whole work altogether. Many things were happening, and here I was adding radish wrappings around a painting, what was wrong with me?

So finally, I decided to turn towards the statement itself, almost trying to justify the artwork through text. But this most definitely wasn’t the artwork.

Then, at some point during the exhibition, a mother and her child entered the space out of curiosity: they decided to follow the chalk stick lines that pointed towards the exhibition. Looking at my installation, she noted to one of my colleagues and said, "I never know whether this is art or trash."

I laughed, not out of dismissal, but recognition.