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"Transverse” "Fear brings hope” |
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Articles
Transverse
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By Jan Doms The diagonal is a line connecting two non-consecutive vertices. Born and raised in Tilburg, a city formerly renowned for its textile industry, the diagonal makes me think of woolen twilled fabric with its chalk stripes across. The paintings by Ingrid Simons seem to contain an invisibly sub-dermal, transversely woven grid, based on which the navigation of space, light and motion occurs. This provides those who want to see it, with framework to fixate on the figures and objects and to give them meaning. This depends on the time of day, under which angle, and in what mood one may look at the paintings. The works possess a high degree of intimacy. This gives a sense of privilege, being allowed a glimpse into her personal universe, captured in the brush strokes. Sometimes they contain figures with their faces turned away, or people who are withdrawn, caught up into a world we do not know, but undeniably relates to the depicted space in which the life in question is reflected; life from a lost era. The human factor also has a strong connection with the objects depicted in the works, an animistic approach to depicting a chair, cupboard, bed, curtain, radiator, tree, car, and often to the architectonic and scenic space as a whole. Even where the human figure is not physically present in the presentation, the viewer gets the eerie feeling that you are not the only one bonding with the evolving moment. The treatment of light and lines reveals the lithographer behind the painter. Light comes with shadow. However, the connection between light and the shadow cast by the artifact in the modulated space, changes Ingrid’s work continuously. Natural laws, overridden by the power of imagination. Some years ago I went sailing on the river Maas with my painter friend. We started out early on a bright and sunny morning, observing the scars of industry that dominated the landscape. Towards the evening, dusk took possession of the watery area, with the pregnant damages to riverbanks vanishing in a wondrous fashion. Twilight embraced each irregularity until our eyes feasted on paradise alone. The light came from all around us. Shadows stood out and the colours of heaven connected with the gentle muttering of the engine. The manner in which light is represented in Ingrid’s paintings – the German word darstellen reflects that so beautifully - is, in my view, extraordinary. In combination with the figuration, she creates in her own way a unity of time, place and action, thereby giving it a dramatic effect, without necessarily making it a drama; more of a poetic merging of more and less far-reaching events, to which the observer remains oblivious. As a sculptor, my first focus of interest has always been the way in which a painter defines space, both the enclosed space and the space taken up by the pictorial components. The third dimension is perceived only when one moves about, adopting fresh vantage points in relation to the objects in the space, thus being indissolubly tied to the time such a move takes. The paintings by Ingrid are made as if they would permit actual physical entry. You would like to touch the figure and close the window. Rest your ear on the pillow to become a participant in the tableaux. Seat yourself on the bench and feel the gliding sunlight burning on your cheeks. Hear the rustling of the leaves. A car driving off. Simply let the wind move through your hair or, while crossing a street, cast your own shadow and see it gradually dissolve into the painted light. Ask an old sailor, and he will tell of the breathtaking colours of the finest sea on this planet, the Baltic Sea. The endless shades of gray, ochre and mauve lighting up in the wake of the setting sun. The continuous changes in the palette of the sky, as observable as the movement of the small hand on the clock. At night the northern light is playing at the horizon. The skerry coast glides by and floats on its shadow. Once you have seen this, you know what role colour and its metaphysical effect could have in the desolation of endless waters. And, sometimes it is dead silent. This is the mirror image of tranquility. Perhaps the most striking aspect of the work by Ingrid Simons, is diagonal tranquility. Just before the storm of the spirit, or right after the breath of life has subsided. 2005 (Publikation "Crossroads", Ingrid Simons) |
Fear brings hope
Ingrid Simons paints the way we look
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By Alex de Vries Ingrid Simons makes paintings you may think you recognize. You look at them and assume you know what you are looking at. Wrong. And you realize immediately that you are mistaken. Many of her paintings show things from the back, indicating what she left behind, the painting’s point of origin, and what she as artist envisages. Her figurative work is difficult to pin down in fact. Though everything she paints is a portrait, especially where the subject is not people but their shell and surroundings, the mood that surrounds them, the thoughts and feelings resonating around them. She portrays this in true essence; not by precision painting their appearance but by accurately catching their indefinable form. Ingrid Simons makes it easy on the observer, and this is precisely the trouble. What she paints is hard to describe. You might describe the external features of her work, providing a purely stylistic analysis of her method of applying paint and composition without succeeding in clarifying the meaning of her paintings in the slightest. The paintings by Ingrid Simons have an intimate character. They also have something fearsome, the notion that life can pose a threat and that you have a duty to oppose it. The personal intimacy of the work ensures that she always manages to overcome this fear. As she paints, she finds hope in desolate mankind. Rarely are people depicted with such self-reliance as in the paintings by Ingrid Simons. The obviousness of this condition enervates the spirit as one studies her work. She permits no room for misunderstanding, no matter how mysterious her paintings may be. It is a matter of facing the truth that you cannot escape who you are, and this always in the temporary relation to the surroundings, people and situations one encounters. Ingrid Simons has an eye for circumstances that everyone knows or accepts with virtually no resistance, on which she, as the painter, imposes her will. Nothing in her work has been staged and yet you look at images that, like film stills, compel you to reconsider the notions you imagined you were certain of. The colours you see have you think in black and white. Painting, she adds in equal amounts what the preconceived notion left behind. This strips the painting of any history, but the moment that you might think nothing further is happening in the painting, the past hits you. You are forced to reconsider what you failed to see earlier and what you are yet to see. You are forced to look, think and experience, taking the painting as your point of departure. The paintings are contemplative and demure, but not empty or sober. The paint does the job. Each painting has clearly been thought through, but Ingrid Simons does not produce art of ideas. She always paints man, focusing on the psychology of man. Her paintings are a form of behavioral studies, not through observation but through elimination. In this respect, it is merciless work. With this method, a painting of a chair in the Bois de Boulogne shows who sits in it, even if this person is not in the painting. You decide what you see. In fact: Who you see. You may decide whether you are going to sit down in that chair or not. This is precisely how you decide on the way you wish to look at paintings by Ingrid Simons, whether you like them or not. So, have a good look. 30 August 2005 (Publikation "Crossroads", Ingrid Simons) |