Gijs Assmann | Marlies Appel | David Bade | Merina Beekman | Simon Benson | Dineke Blom | Marcel van Eeden | Otto Egberts | Helen Frik | Rosemin Hendriks | Tjibbe Hooghiemstra | Nour-Eddine Jarram | Natasja Kensmil | Juul Kraijer | Ronald Noorman | Erik Odijk | Roland Sohier | Elly Strik | Dieuwke Spaans | Juliette Tulkens | Piet Tuytel | Hans de Wit

Arno Kramer

about drawing  1|2|3|4   Even if something is corrected, these corrections often become part of the beauty of the work again. The drawing is everything or nothing. For me, drawing is the act of exploring the reverse side of the soul, the mind, and the heart. The act of making a drawing always balances on the edge of a confession. Usually a drawing is a confession. About melancholy and longing. About doubt and certainty. About reality and fantasy. Sometimes a drawing seems to be a materialised dream, which is mainly about the abolition of knowledge. The drawing is also a monument to the poetics of the artist, in which both signs that point back and signs that point forward can be enclosed. The meaning of the drawing has changed much in the 20th and 21st centuries. It seems that the autonomous drawing is given more attention again in contemporary art. That is not illogical. The drawing nowadays wants to inform something different from only visible technical skill or the recording of reality. In comparison with the genres in literature, the drawing may be best compared with a poem, with poetry, since poetry can be read in many ways; it brings language most in a state of longing. It leaves much open to personal interpretations. We read as it were meanings between the lines of a poem. Yet there is also a big difference. When we give a name to and when we describe things, the world and feelings, we use language common to everybody. By the choice of words and the order of the words I try to give a metaphorical meaning to my descriptions and my confessions. But in the act of drawing the visual artist in fact searches for his own expressive syntax. Language is such a specific medium that you might say that, as an extension of the inner self, it can at least give form to the exterior of beauty, as K.P. Kavafis wrote in the poem:

I transferred into art
I sit and ponder. Longings and feelings
I transferred into Art half seen,
faces and outlines, vague memories
of unrequited loves. Let me rely on her.
She knows how to give form to the Exterior of Beauty:
supplementing life almost imperceptibly,
connecting impressions, connecting the days.   >