Installation of 16 little plates, wood, plaster, wax, oil-paint, photographic emulsion, 16 x (30cm x 40cm), 2005-2008
My mother had Alzheimer. I was fascinated by her small world and especially by her method of combatting the disease by writing hundreds of memos to herself. We all do it: to create order, to free up space in our minds. But when the brain starts losing its grip the memos become something to rely on. That’s why my mother began keeping them at some point or another: it must have been the enormous fear of losing the sense of her ‘daily’ existence. A battle against fading away, against the transitory, futile nature of her life. Her memos were originally intended to deal with day to day activities but became an activity in itself: studying the memos, putting them into some kind of order. Because the memos became seemingly useless they acquired the beauty of the purposeless art form, in which the importance of the activity itself becomes the art form. You could compare this with Outsider Art but also with the obsessive daily painting of the day’s date by On Kawara. Some of the memos were projected and anchored in wax. Graphics were added to the transparent layer of wax making the ‘naked’ legibility of the text unclear, somehow creating distance for the viewer.
At half purchased by Dr. Guislainmuseum, Ghent,
and for the other half by the University of Antwerp, Department of Molecular Genetics, Christine Van Broeckhoven.
2009, multimedia, projection 31min, +/- 40x40cm,
sink +/- 100x20x50cm, sand, salt, milk, water
All of the memos that my mother wrote during her illness are archived and projected onto a reflecting pulp positioned in a sink. The images repeatedly come and go, regularly leaving an empty mirror for a couple of seconds. A soggy substance which makes us think of our own soggy insides.