Vibeke Mascini

‍

Can you tell us something about your working method as an artist?

‍
Because I am curious about many things, I usually work on several projects at once. It is during the making process that I find out exactly what I am exploring. This is not a linear process where one thing necessarily leads to another. The various projects I am working on influence each other. That is exciting, because I don't always know in which direction an idea will develop, but I dare to trust that process more and more. By exercising less control, an idea or artwork can become smarter than myself, so to speak. As a human being and as an artist, my intelligence is bound by the bandwidth of my perception, and thus limited. In my opinion, my work becomes really exciting when it can teach me something.

‍

Your studio is full of different projects, including several large batteries. What story do those objects tell?

In my work, I deal with the transformation of energy and electricity storage. Energy is an abstract and elusive thing whilst at the same time being fundamental and essential, because everyone in the world has to deal with it. For instance: we charge our phones every day, but with what, really? Where does that electricity come from? How is it generated? Through my work, I try to bring that grand, abstract nature of energy to a scale that can be experienced and to which the viewer can relate intimately.

‍

An important starting point in my work is the second law of thermodynamics, which holds that energy never disappears and is eternally in transformation. So all energy comes from somewhere else, already existed in another form. Electricity, for example, is almost always generated from a destructive process, such as atomic fission or the destruction of a whale's body. Some of my works are batteries storing different kinds of electricity. For example, a battery I recharged at a power plant that runs on glacier water in Switzerland, and a battery charged with electricity derived from burning cocaine seized by customs. Concretising energy in this way reveals that all energy therefore comes from somewhere else - existed before in some other form. Incidentally, by first storing electricity in batteries and then setting up installations in which those batteries slowly discharge, I started to think differently about my work: it is not so much objects that I make, but rather performances. Because of the discharge of the batteries, my work has a certain temporary quality.

What have you been working on recently?

Recently, I have been exploring the concept of memory alongside the theme of energy. One of the themes central to my presentation at Open Studios is the relationship between storage and memory. Energy can be stored in a battery without a constant supply of energy. This is not the case with memory or memories, as these require a constant supply of energy. Think of a data centre, or our own brain. The moment the electricity in a data centre fails or a person dies, the memory and memories contained therein are lost.

‍

Or are they? Do memories disappear when the energy supply to them ceases? Or can the law of constant transformation from thermodynamics also be applied to memories? The battery I filled in Switzerland is on the one hand a store of energy, but also a time capsule of a glacier that may soon no longer exist. The battery thus stores the memory of a landscape, turning it into a monument. Another example is the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly. Inside a chrysalis, a magical process takes place. The caterpillar digests into a kind of mush, and from stem cell material a whole new body with different active DNA is then constructed - that of the butterfly. Yet the butterfly is believed to have memories of life as a caterpillar. So I wonder: where is that memory stored, if it can apparently survive a material, radical transformation?

‍

During Open Studios, in addition to a battery installation, I am also showing a video starring my high school history teacher. I had a strong memory of one of his classes, in which he drew the map of Europe on the chalkboard with enormous accuracy. Twenty years later, I suddenly wondered: would he still have that talent? Could he remember that particular lesson? What is the reason that this very memory comes to my mind? Through this video, I explore the idea that knowledge transfer is a movement of energy, memory and information. So my history teacher can also be considered a battery, a capsule of energy and memories.

‍

Thus, through my research into energy and memory, a number of seemingly disparate things - a melting glacier in Switzerland, the pupa within which a radical transformation from caterpillar to butterfly is taking place, and my history teacher - end up coming together in one exhibition.

‍

What did your time at the Rijksakademie bring you?

The constant exchange between people from the Rijksakademie community ensures a certain energy and momentum in my thoughts and idea formation. Something that comes to mind in the morning can already have the form of a prototype in the afternoon because you have the opportunity to immediately work it through in one of the workshops. As an artist - locked in a studio - you can easily lose yourself in your own thought bubble, so the fact that the Rijksakademie offers access to that interaction is something I have found insanely inspiring.

Fransix Tenda Lomba

‍

What inspires you and keeps you busy? And how do you express that in your work?

My artistic practice includes drawings, paintings, animation video and sculpture. The themes I address through my work include social systems, globalism, post-colonial society and capitalism. My theory is that, within these systems, humans continuously undergo shocks, such as cultural shocks, social shocks or historical shocks. Investigating these shocks is central to my work. At the same time, I also want to occasionally shock my Western audience, many of whom know little about my homeland Congo, with my work. I want to challenge them to revise their aesthetic and political thinking.

‍

My parents' archive is often the starting point for new work. They live in Congo, where my father was active in journalism and my mother worked as a teacher. Their archive is an extensive collection of administrative documents, travel diaries, study books, prints, photographs and objects dating back to the early years of the 20th century. These archival documents are testimonies to Congo's history and include contemporary written and pictured experiences. I can no longer change anything about the past, but in my work I can use my vision to add a layer to the story told about that history. I do this by combining icons, images and historical figures from both Congolese and world history with my artistic expressions. For example, by creating a new version of the logo of a famous cocoa company. Or painting the aluminium used for cans of a Congolese beer brand and then forming it into a sculpture.

‍

At its core, my practice is founded on a strong commitment to social justice and equality. I believe art has the ability to spark important conversations and bring about meaningful change. Through my work, I aim to create a more harmonious world.

Can you give an example of such a shock and how you research it?

For a long time, cocoa has been an essential product for my homeland; a crucial source of income for farmers and an important export product. In fact, when you eat chocolate, you take a journey around the world and past all sorts of complex issues that affect many people. Indeed, the cocoa trade is deeply intertwined in global systems of power and exploitation, with multinational corporations often reaping the benefits at the expense of local farmers and communities. Through my research and artistic practice, I aim to shed light on these complex dynamics and offer a critical perspective on the global trade in cocoa. The project that emerged from this research is titled Le choc est là. The double meaning of the title refers to the cultural, economic, political, social and geopolitical shocks in the cocoa chain, which I trace from the different places of origin of cocoa to the world of consumers. Through my paintings, I want to challenge viewers to reflect on their own role in that global system.

‍

What work will you present at Open Studios?

I am working on a series of paintings for which I have used, among other things, the silkscreen technique - new to me. In it, the figure of the Spanish conquistador is central. The conquistadores were Spanish explorers and soldiers who explored and conquered the New World in the 15th and 16th centuries. Seeking wealth, power and land, they destroyed the original indigenous cultures and civilisations in South and Central America during their travels. By critically depicting iconic figures of the conquistador, I try to reveal the complexity of intercultural relations and their impact on our societies. These paintings are a visual expression of the inequality, injustice and cultural exploitation resulting from colonialism and globalisation.

‍

What are your plans for the near future?

I plan to find a studio in Amsterdam and host young African and European artists there whom I can guide in forming their artistic voice and practice. I have spent a long time searching for my own unique visual language after completing my art education. So I know from experience the need for guidance. I want to offer young artists the same opportunities that I have received in the Netherlands in recent years.

Ali Eslami

‍

Can you tell us something about your background and your way of working?

My engineering background and fascination with video games have led to a keen interest in computer computation and cybernetics, i.e. the fusion of man and machine. Another aspect that recurs a lot is the effect of virtual worlds on the shifting role of form and function. My work originates in virtual reality and usually manifests itself as VR installations, video installations and performance lectures.

‍

I conduct long-term, practice-based research into memory, human cognition and emotions, both through speculative thinking and concrete world-building. I see my practice as a journey through the grey area between fiction and reality, constantly looking for the possibilities that lie there. With the fictional worlds I create, I hope to arouse a curiosity in the viewer about their own inner world.

‍

What themes do you broach in your presentation for Open Studios 2023?

My second year at the Rijksakademie was a year of change, heavily influenced by recent events in Iran, my home country. Like many Iranians, I experienced feelings of displacement, disorientation and despair, but strangely enough, I also had hope. I started writing poems in the form of computer code to process those feelings. Poetry was a new and experimental medium for me at that time. These poems formed the basis for a short film and a series of prints that I made in 2023 and will show at Open Studios. Titled Line of Sight, this new body of work explores the complex web of emotions and thoughts that result from displacement and fragmentation. This work was also a reflection on the role imagination can play in times of uncertainty. In that context, I asked myself: can a dream shape my memories and perhaps even become a reality when faced with trauma?

What has inspired you in recent months?

Over the past year, a strong sense of connection to Iran has awakened in me and I want to weave that into my work. I have plunged into Iran's ancient history, Persian mythologies, and language and architecture. I also delved into Iran's more recent cultural history. Why, for instance, is there so little science fiction coming out of the Middle East? Perhaps the oppressive reality of that region makes it impossible for people to dream beyond the next few days or months. In what form could science fiction still exist there?

‍

What has the Rijksakademie brought you?

The contact with fascinating artists, advisors and experts has meant a lot in reorienting my practice and the way I think now. At the Rijksakademie, on the one hand, I was given the space and resources to develop a critical framework around my work. On the other hand, there were the practical opportunities to immerse myself in the workshops in terms of materials that were new to me. I was free to work and experiment with media I had no experience with before. I had expected my participation in the Rijksakademie to have an impact on my artistry, but not that it would bring about such enormous changes.

‍

What are your plans for after you leave the Rijksakademie?

I am planning to publish my poetry collection Line of Sight and I want to be able to show the work I have developed over the past two years. In October, I am working on a project commissioned by The New Institute in Rotterdam in collaboration with Amsterdam-based media art platform LIMA. For this, I plan to develop an interactive VR simulation showing a modular courtyard house inspired by the classical architecture of desert houses in Iran. Finally, serious gamer that I am, I eagerly await the new Zelda game - as the 2017 Zelda game Breath of the Wild is one of the most important cultural artefacts of my life!

‍

Published on 17 May 2023.

‍

Photos: Florian Braakman