Hans Theys is a twentieth-century philosopher and art historian. He has written and designed dozens of books on the works of contemporary artists and published hundreds of essays, interviews and reviews in books, catalogues and magazines. All his publications are based on actual collaborations and conversations with artists.

This platform was developed by Evi Bert (M HKA / Centrum Kunstarchieven Vlaanderen) in collaboration with the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp (Research group Archivolt), M HKA, Antwerp and Koen Van der Auwera. We also thank Idris Sevenans (HOR) and Marc Ruyters (Hart Magazine).

Kati Heck

Kati Heck - 2012 - Cleaning Mania [EN, interview]
Interview , 2 p.




__________

Hans Theys


Cleaning mania
Kati Heck about her student years at the academy


Kati Heck: I studied at the academy from 1999 to 2003. I had sat for the entrance exam for painting just to get some practice for the entrance exams for the fashion department or the department theatre costume. But afterwards I certainly didn’t want to study fashion: it was much too clean there! Terrifying, that is, this cleaning mania in the academies! Everything becomes so natty. The Higher Institute used to be a refuge. Now it’s a kindergarten.
            I had two teachers that were important for me: Pat Harris, who was a very sensitive person and who acted a bit as a psychologist, and Fred Bervoets, who, for me, embodied the dream of the romantic artist, for example with his story about how he went fishing, throwing grenades in a pond. Every morning Fred arrived at the academy at a quarter past eight. If you wanted to show him respect, you would be there at the same time, even after the heaviest night. If he found your work interesting, he didn’t have a lot to say about it. But that wasn’t necessary. At school you don’t need someone who comes to tell you every day how well you’re doing. Once a month is enough. What I really missed the first years, was contact with teachers from other departments. I also found it quite tragic that everything was so meek. I needed a bit of revolution, but I didn’t find anyone else who was a revolutionary.
            In the course of the third year I went to Vienna for three months to study. There the situation was completely opposite. Everyone was preoccupied with the revolution. I remember an unsightly girl who had made a large banner with the word ‘revolution’. She hung it up and I thought, ‘That won’t come to much revolution.’ My stay in Vienna left me with the feeling that I wouldn’t make it on my own. But gradually I met other people. People that seemed to match with me. In 2002 for example I met my husband Greg. Later I met Dennis Tyfus, whose first show I had seen at Stella’s, on 5 December 2002.
            I think it’s odd that almost no one of the people who graduated with me still paints. In Germany competition is unpleasantly fierce, but here it looks as if there’s no one. You need people to look up to in order to become better. You must be able to put up a fight. I want to be the best. I want to fight my laziness by exhibiting my work in the right places, next to other powerful works.
            I also came to respect my teacher Bruno Van Dijck, who demanded great discipline of us. The first two years I was working incessantly. Now I can have a conversation with Bruno, but at that time I couldn’t. 
            In general I thought the Academy was too easy. There were too few real challenges. In Germany it’s a lot harder. But they never would have accepted me there, because I was so young. They accepted me here, but the downside is that you are treated like a child all the time. You’re only allowed to work till 6 pm. Then you’ve got to wash your brushes and go home. But at that age, the day only begins at 6 pm! In Austria you could work as long as you liked and you could stay overnight.
            When I returned from Vienna, I had made a suit for a superhero and a video. When I showed these to an interim jury here, I got flunked, though they had hardly glanced at them. I continued to make the same things, but never again I showed them to a jury. That’s the situation you get: students don’t want or don’t dare to show their real work. It’s a thing I often hear. It really absurd. They want you to work at school, but in fact they compel you to work at home. You don’t show them your real work, and you never find out what they actually want to see. Perhaps a magical Flemish portrait? I’ve never understood. Whose fault is it that almost all students produce the same sort of fake work year after year?
            But I know it’s not really easy. For two years I have taught painting from a model at Saint Luke in Antwerp. The first year was more or less all right, but the second I felt so unsure of myself that I hid behind the easels. I really didn’t have an idea what I could teach the students. I didn’t understand why they were there. Because they had drawn a beautiful duck at secondary school? Because they liked to play with paint? Because they liked being a student?
            To make up with them I offered them a party with drinks at the end of the year. I’d pay for it with the money I had earned by teaching them. For I believe the best teacher is someone who is also your friend. But it was a complete disaster! They all had a Coke or a Fanta and after an hour the party was finished. I wasn’t even able to spend my money!


Montagne de Miel, November 20th 2012