The body of work presented here consists of paintings of houses from two points of view: interior and exterior. They are done in acrylic on mainly 36" x 48" sized canvasses. All images are still. In the exterior views the houses - like ships temporarily lowering their anchor - have thrown out their porches like planks to connect with the outside world, hovering above the site they have chosen to occupy. The interior spaces depict rooms that are modestly furnished. Some more delicate features indicate comfort and dignity; the suburban building structures are reminiscent of country houses. Light typical for the weather and the hour of the present moment points to a context of ongoing time, subtly making temporariness tangible. There are inviting relationships with other rooms and with the outside through open doors and windows. There also is a sense of wary reticence as a reaction to the absence of people. The indication of the presence of others heightens the chance of fulfilling an innate desire to connect. If subsequently no actual contact is established, as in the paintings, it emphasizes, I think, the solitude of the individual captured in his or her own existence. But hints of life also heighten the tension that could come with human interaction (involving competition, attraction but also rejection). Isolation could then be experienced as a relief.
Thus, a building - inhabited, abandoned or waiting to be occupied - is a silent witness showing traces of other people's lives and stories (gone by or being lived at this very moment), making perceptible the notorious existential anxiety created by the consciousness of being responsible for our own lives, which are, like those of these other people, inevitably limited by our time here. One way to cope with this is to neglect it by (hedonistic) consumption, by seeking recognition from and/or attachment to others. Buildings deliver evidence of this coping mechanism: the home as our castle protects us from the infinite outside and the unknown future and past; it is the last shell in which we seem to have some control, in decorating and reconstructing. Since protection only exists because of danger, it is intrinsically connected to danger: the soothing home is paradoxically a constant reminder of the threats of time's passing and the loneliness inherent in being. Therefore buildings ambiguously not only signalize the problem (anxiety), but they also testify the 'solution' (to distract ourselves).
I hold a Master of Science degree in Architecture with an emphasis on design and I have worked as an architectural designer. I originally chose this field because of my fascination with rooms and houses, streets and cities, from ruins to skyscrapers. I love to design buildings; it was fantastic for me to think about how a space should be so that it would be a pleasant place for people to live in. But gradually it became clear to me that the drawing and painting I had done from a very early age on fulfilled my need (more completely than architecture could possibly do) in dealing with the profound feeling of marvel that building structures evoke in me (a melancholic feeling comparable with the intense wonder that still surrounds the "simple" fact of birth). And so for the last couple of years I have devoted my time fully to painting.