Philippe Vandenberg and the Way of Drawing, the Way of Mankind
‘The real problem is: what to do with it? How to translate it into light? ... Our suffering derives not only from the human wound, but first and foremost from our being torn between matter and spirit. How to avoid falling into the trap of matter? … It so happens that it sometimes scares me. It explains my great love for drawing. In a drawing, matter is reduced to a minimum, as a matter of course.’1 Philippe Vandenberg Philippe Vandenberg was first and foremost a painter; a choice born out of necessity, and also a choice dictated by the fact that it was the only apparently valid choice: ‘But for want of any other human activity I might be capable of, I have been forced, I have forced myself, to assume the mantle of the artist, i.e. to act out the vision of the painter that I am.’2 The urge that led him to paint was undoubtedly of an existential nature. Art provided Vandenberg – and his fragmented, restless and nomadic spirit – with a sense of unity, a refuge and a mainstay in his existence. In his diary he writes: ‘The man in pieces has only one solution, only one obsession: to make himself whole again. The painter – as I am – achieves this through the unity of image, sign and canvas.’3 On one of his drawings, he noted the following (2009): ‘Gebroken. Ik probeer me alleen nog aan elkaar te schilderen.’ [‘Broken. All I’m trying to do is to paint myself together again.’] Few authors have failed to notice this crucial dimension of this artist’s output. In fact, it became the quintessential perspective for analysing his work. At times, however, it tends to blind to the extent that ‘not being seen’ actually became part of his institutional reception. The existential aspect and the biographical approach to art have long suffered from discursive fatigue and, ironically, they are now even experiencing an existential crisis themselves. They meet with boredom and tend to discourage people, rather than appeal to them. But the obstinacy with which the existential and the biographical aspects continue to pop up in art, the reflexive – at times furious – presence that characterises them serves to indicate that reality and analytic frame are often hopelessly estranged from one another. 1
« Le véritable problème: c’est la confrontation avec la matière. Que faire avec elle? Comment la traduire en lumière? … Notre souffrance provient, non seulement, de la blessure humaine mais surtout du tiraillement qui nous habite, entre la matière et l’esprit. Comment ne pas tomber dans la piège du matière? … Il arrive qu’elle me fasse peur. D’où mon grand amour pour le dessin. La matière y est réduite, d’office, au minimum. » Philippe Vandenberg in: Tourneux A. (ed.), Philippe Vandenberg – Œuvre 2000 – 2006, On Line & Musée Arthur Rimbaud, Ghent & Charleville-Mézières, 2006, p. 24. English translation on p. 105. 2 « Mais à défaut de toute autre activité humaine dont je serais capable, j’ai été obligé, je m’oblige à endosser l’habit d’artiste, c'est-à-dire à extérioriser la vision du peintre que je suis. » Idem, p. 29. English translation on p. 109. 3 « L’homme en pièces n’a qu’une solution, qu’une obsession: se refaire entier; pour le peintre – pour moi – ce sera par l’unité de l’image, du signe, de la toile. » Idem, p. 29. English translation on p. 109.
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