{"id":20657,"title":"Dennis Tyfus - 2018 - My Knee’s Pierced Needs [EN, interview]","dimensions":"4 p.","date_begin":null,"material":"","art_status_id":13,"legal_status_id":47,"category_id":168,"platform_id":1,"deleted":false,"asset_count":0,"stream_count":0,"collection":"Hans Theys Archive / Archief Hans Theys","cached_tag_list":"Hans Theys","publishing_process_id":1,"annotation":"","date_end":null,"reference":"","stream_count_app":7,"permalink":"dennis-tyfus-2018-my-knee-s-pierced-needs-en-interview","description_ca":"","short_description_ca":"","description_it":"","short_description_it":"","cached_primary_asset_url":null,"cached_actor_names":"Hans Theys","hide_from_json":true,"prev_platform_id":null,"description_uk":null,"short_description_uk":null,"description_tr":null,"short_description_tr":null,"mhka_works":false,"category":{"en":"Interview","nl":"","fr":""},"poster_image":null,"poster_credits":null,"translations":[{"locale":"en","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eMy Knee\u0026rsquo;s Pierced Needs\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus at Middelheim and Pinkie Bowtie\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cem\u003eI would like to begin this essay with a modest tribute to Menno Meewis (1954-2012), who after becoming director of Middelheim Museum in 1993 gradually annexed all the parks and other land round about. Keen to show me what he was planning to do with the newly acquired Nachtegalenpark, one day I found myself being driven through the park in a golf cart. Ignoring all the usual footpaths, he slalomed through the wood at speed like an accomplished skater, uphill, downhill, pitilessly flattening the occasional burgeoning plant and shrub that lay in his path. I would like to add that in her collaboration with Dennis Tyfus (\u0026deg;1979), Menno Meewis\u0026rsquo; successor Sara Weyns (\u0026deg;1980) is continuing the work at Middelheim in her own way, but in the spirit of her predecessor. \u003c/em\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nRecently I met the young Canadian fashion designer Holden St George who told me that he got into fashion through skateboarding. \u0026ldquo;Skating, queerness and fashion are three ways to energize space,\u0026rdquo; he said. What he meant by that, I think, is that a skateboarder who doesn\u0026rsquo;t restrict himself to a designated skateboarding area can put to improper use all the objects he encounters in the public space. The skateboarder uses his own secret routes to get around (Michel de Certeau), just as the ruttish or persecuted male homosexual finds an alternative purpose for station halls and dimly-lit public gardens.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn a not dissimilar way, queerness and fashion show us that the world can be different and that we don\u0026rsquo;t have to submit despondently to the rules of know-alls, schoolmasters and museum directors. Innovative artists demand the right to do things differently and to be different. They regenerate art by not bowing to the pressure of convention. And they do so, not because they want to regenerate art, but because they cannot or will not behave any other way. By claiming the right to deviate from the norm, they not only make room for themselves, but also for others. So their obstinate and contrary approach to ideas and forms also acquires a political dimension, because it shows that the world, or the way we see it, can be flexible. Artists create breathing space.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus also came to the art world through skateboarding. He couldn\u0026rsquo;t skate very well, but he was attracted to the skating culture. He told me this back in 2003, when I saw him at work for the first time in the unheated exhibition space of Lokaal 01, which Vaast Colson had put at his disposal. He was making a large-format drawing on a painted background. Up until then, I had only seen one artist draw with such precision. When several weeks later I heard that the Flemish Commission for Visual Art had informed Tyfus that they didn\u0026rsquo;t \u0026ldquo;regard his work as relevant to contemporary art\u0026rdquo;, I visited and interviewed the then 23-year-old artist. In an article published in NieuwZuid, I defended him and tried to explain to the ladies and gentlemen of the Commission that nobody can know whether a person\u0026rsquo;s work is relevant to contemporary art (because by definition it escapes the judgement of the so-called experts, who can only base their judgement on what has gone before), but that here we clearly had a fabulous draftsman who was taking a completely new approach. Today, 15 years on, a government institution has at last given the artist carte blanche to work freely. The result is impressive.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nFor the last 20 years, Tyfus has continuously visited and created spaces where he \u0026lsquo;does his thing\u0026rsquo;: for example, he has organized concerts and poetic events like the Bamba Night with Dani\u0026euml;l the World-famous Botanist. At the invitation of Middelheim, he designed a concrete sculpture, which can also be used as an independently accessible, public meeting place.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus: \u0026ldquo;Sara Weyns had sounded me out on several occasions about possible contributions to group exhibitions. One of my proposals was a ballet performance at deSingel which would be called \u0026lsquo;Ball\u0026egrave;tjes in tomatensaus\u0026rsquo; (Ballet pieces in tomato sauce). When she invited me to participate in the group exhibition \u0026lsquo;Experience Traps\u0026rsquo;, I asked the architects Fvww Architecten to help me design a concrete tiered seating bank concealing a lockable bar underneath. There is also a stage, lighting and electricity. The place is enclosed like a prison, but is accessible both from the museum and the road, so that it can serve as a sculpture and also as a concert space.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nI have spent my life looking for places where I can do things. In 1996 I came across VogelVrijStad in Meistraat in Antwerp, a school broken into by squatters who organized events there. It made an impression on me, not least because of all the different kinds of people it attracted: anarchists, the homeless, poets, politicians, artists, punks\u0026hellip; Concerts were organized in the cellar. All generations congregated at VogelVrijStad because there was no other venue in the city where you could listen to strange music and rub shoulders with like-minded people. There was de Sorm in Deurne and the Lintfabriek in Kontich, where good concerts were organized, but in the city itself there was only VogelVrijStad. It led in a roundabout way to the creation of Scheld\u0026rsquo;apen and after that I set up the venues Gunther, Stadslimiet and Pinkie Bowtie, first with Vaast Colson and later with Peter Fengler. Nowadays things are very different in Antwerp. Every day you can go and look at something in a place set up by artists, like Idris Sevenans\u0026rsquo; Troebel Neyntje, ABC Kluphuis, Forbidden City, Pink House, etc.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nA book has been published to accompany the exhibition. It was compiled by the artist Nico Dockx, who asked me a question every day for a year. As a young man I heard people talk about Nico as a gifted skateboarder who lived in a neighbouring village. Later on we went our separate ways until I bumped into him last year en route to the baker\u0026rsquo;s and asked him if he would like to interview me for an upcoming solo show at Project Space 1646 in The Hague.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nI ask Nico Dockx (\u0026deg;1974) if he would like to tell us something about the exhibition.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDockx: \u0026ldquo;The thing that really struck me \u0026ndash; and I am not talking about the work itself, but about what it does to the surroundings and the public \u0026ndash;, was the tremendous freshness, the tremendous energy it seemed to release. All kinds of people gathered around the book which you could fill with stamps: elderly men and women, children, but also Luc Tuymans and Anny De Decker who were stamping away enthusiastically. At the private view, lots of people behaved as if they were at a party. There was none of the customary stuffy, negative atmosphere. The works seemed to spark a dynamic energy. It was the same with the installation with the fluttering petrol station flags (\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo;): young and old were carried away with enthusiasm. I hope our book sparks the same dynamic energy among its readers.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus and I walk through the park without trying to fathom the deeper meaning of his oeuvre. Soundworks had been placed next to two sculptures which are part of Middelheim\u0026rsquo;s permanent collection (including Rik Wouters\u0026rsquo; \u0026lsquo;Mad Maiden\u0026rsquo;). They play soundtracks arranged in a loop: noise generated by Tyfus himself, reminiscent of shamanic rituals.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;When I see sculptures, I hear sounds,\u0026rdquo; he says. \u0026ldquo;Now everyone can hear them.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo; installation consists of some ten colourful, petrol station-type \u0026lsquo;tube men\u0026rsquo; with drawn faces, which collapse, bend, kneel and then quickly straighten up again. In the press release, I read that they make the grassy expanse look like a festival site. Never having set eyes on a festival site, I can only see the installation as a new form of sculpture or presence in a sculpture park.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Every time I saw an inflatable skydancer pogoing at a filling station, I heard \u0026lsquo;Burn Your House Down\u0026rsquo; by Wolf Eyes,\u0026rdquo; Tyfus tells me. \u0026ldquo;Here the music is made by the compressors.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOn a spot among the trees, we find three sculptures with realistic rubber heads, very well made, being bombarded with automatically launched tennis balls and forced to listen to Goa trance.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;That is awful house music, danced to by people with dreadlocks who would go off to the woods to eat magic mushrooms. 1990s hippie shit.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn the Braem pavilion we find a magnificent, 20-metre-long, u-shaped table where the spectators can use 160 stamps to personalize a 160-page blank book. It is one of the most powerful sculptural responses to this magnificent pavilion I have ever seen.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;I am always looking for ways to spread my drawings round the world,\u0026rdquo; says Tyfus. \u0026ldquo;To start with, it was usually record covers. Later on, I came up with the \u0026lsquo;No Choice Tattoos\u0026rsquo;. This book of stamps is a new way of having my drawings travel and turning them into something more tangible.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOn show at Pinkie Bowtie are crayon drawings by Tyfus. When he gave me a guided tour of the first instalment of this exhibition last year, it seems I was the first to notice that Tyfus had drawn volumes for the first time. \u0026ldquo;I was fed up with those flat drawings,\u0026rdquo; he told me. \u0026ldquo;It came about when I was unwell and lying in bed. Someone had given me a box of crayons and suddenly there I was with a new sort of drawing.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, November 3\u003csup\u003erd\u003c/sup\u003e 2018\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eTranslated by Alison Mouthaan-Gwillim\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"nl","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eKnisperende kniespieren\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus in Middelheim en Pinkie Bowtie\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cem\u003eIk zou deze beschouwing over Tyfus\u0026rsquo; tentoonstelling \u0026lsquo;My Niece\u0026rsquo;s Pierced Knees\u0026rsquo; willen laten aanvangen met een bescheiden hommage aan Menno Meewis (1954-2012), die sinds zijn aantreden in 1993 als directeur van het Middelheimmuseum geleidelijk aan alle omliggende terreinen en parken heeft geannexeerd. Op een dag reden we in een golfkarretje door het park omdat hij mij wilde tonen wat hij met het pasverworven Nachtegalenpark van plan was. Alle gebruikelijke wandelwegen negerend, als een volleerd skater, snelde hij slalommend door het bos, bergop bergaf, hier en daar ontluikende plantjes en kleine struikjes genadeloos platwalsend. Ik zou willen stellen dat zijn opvolgster Sara Weyns (\u0026deg;1980), in haar samenwerking met Dennis Tyfus (\u0026deg;1979) de geest van haar voorganger op een vrije manier voortzet.\u003c/em\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOnlangs ontmoette ik de jonge Canadese modeontwerper Holden St George die mij vertelde dat hij tot de mode is gekomen door het skaten. \u0026ldquo;Skating, queerness and fashion are three ways to energize space,\u0026rdquo; zei hij. Wat hij daarmee bedoelde, denk ik, is dat een skater die zich niet beperkt tot een voorgeschreven skate-plek alle voorwerpen die hij in de openbare ruimte ontmoet oneigenlijk kan gebruiken. De skater verplaatst zich langs sluipwegen (Michel de Certeau), net zoals de bronstige of vervolgde homoseksuele man een andere bestemming geeft aan stationshallen en schaars verlichte plantsoenen.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOp een verwante manier tonen queerness en mode dat de wereld anders kan zijn en dat we ons niet moedeloos moeten neerleggen bij de voorschriften van betweters, schoolmeesters en museumdirecteurs. Vernieuwende kunstenaars dwingen het recht af dingen anders te mogen doen en anders te mogen zijn. Ze vernieuwen de kunst door zich niet te laten inperken door de bestaande conventies. Niet omdat ze de kunst willen vernieuwen, maar wel omdat ze zich niet anders willen of kunnen gedragen. Door het recht op te eisen af te wijken van de norm, maken ze niet alleen plaats voor zichzelf, maar ook voor de anderen. Hun koppige, dwarse omgang met idee\u0026euml;n en vormen krijgt zo ook een politieke betekenis, omdat hij aantoont dat de wereld, of de manier waarop we haar beschouwen, beweeglijk is. Kunstenaars scheppen ademruimte.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOok Dennis Tyfus is onder meer via het skaten in de kunstwereld beland. Hij kon zelf niet goed skaten, maar hij had zich aangetrokken gevoeld door de skatecultuur. Dit vertelde hij mij in 2003, toen ik hem voor het eerst aan het werk zag in de onverwarmde tentoonstellingsruimte van Lokaal 01, die hem ter beschikking was gesteld door Vaast Colson. Hij was een tekening op groot formaat aan het maken op een geschilderde ondergrond. Tot dat moment had ik maar \u0026eacute;\u0026eacute;n kunstenaar even trefzeker zien tekenen. Toen ik enkele weken later hoorde dat de beeldende commissie Tyfus had laten weten dat ze zijn werk \u0026lsquo;niet relevant achtte voor de hedendaagse kunst\u0026rsquo;, zocht ik de toen 23-jarige kunstenaar op om hem te interviewen en in NieuwZuid een tekst te publiceren waarin ik zijn verdediging opnam en de heren en dames commissieleden probeerde uit te leggen dat niemand kan weten of iemands werk relevant is voor de hedendaagse kunst (omdat die per definitie ontsnapt aan de beoordeling van de zogenaamde experts, die zich alleen maar kunnen baseren op het oude), maar dat je wel kon zien dat het hier ging om een fabuleus tekenaar die op een geheel nieuwe manier in de wereld stond. Vandaag, vijftien jaar later, heeft deze kunstenaar eindelijk carte blanche gekregen van een overheidsinstelling om vrij werk te maken. Het gevolg is indrukwekkend.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDe voorbije twintig jaar heeft Tyfus onafgebroken ruimtes gezocht en gecre\u0026euml;erd om zijn ding te doen: bijvoorbeeld het opzetten van concerten en po\u0026euml;tische momenten zoals de Bambanacht met Dani\u0026euml;l de Wereldvermaarde Botanicus. Op uitnodiging van het Middelheim ontwierp hij een betonnen sculptuur die ook gebruikt kan worden als publieke, onafhankelijk bereikbare ontmoetingsplek.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus: \u0026ldquo;Sara Weyns polste mij in het verleden verschillende keren over mogelijke bijdragen aan groepstentoonstellingen. E\u0026eacute;n van mijn voorstellen was een balletuitvoering in De Singel die \u0026lsquo;Ball\u0026egrave;tjes in tomatensaus\u0026rsquo; zou heten. Toen ze mij uitnodigde voor de groepstentoonstelling \u0026lsquo;Experience Traps\u0026rsquo; ontwierp ik, samen met het architectenbureau Fvww Architecten, een betonnen tribune waaronder een afsluitbare bar schuilgaat. Er is ook een podium, licht en elektriciteit. De plek is omheind zoals een gevangenis, maar is zowel toegankelijk via het museum als vanop de straat, zodat hij kan dienstdoen als sculptuur \u0026eacute;n als concertplek.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMijn hele leven ben ik op zoek geweest naar plekken waar ik dingen kon doen. In 1996 maakte ik kennis met VogelVrijStad in de Meistraat, een gekraakt schoolgebouw waar dingen georganiseerd werden. Die plek maakte indruk op mij, je vond er allerlei soorten mensen: anarchisten,\u0026nbsp;daklozen, dichters, politici, kunstenaars, punkers\u0026hellip; Er werden concerten georganiseerd in de kelder. Mensen van alle generaties kwamen daar samen, omdat er geen andere plek in de stad was waar je vreemde muziek kon horen en gelijkgestemden tegenkwam. Er was wel de Sorm in Deurne en het Lintfabriek in Kontich, waar goede concerten georganiseerd werden, maar in het stadscentrum bestond alleen VogelVrijStad. Later is daaruit via vele omwegen de plek Scheld\u0026rsquo;apen ontstaan en nog later heb ik eerst met Vaast Colson en nadien ook met Peter Fengler de plekken Gunther, Stadslimiet en Pinkie Bowtie opgericht. Vandaag is de situatie in Antwerpen anders. Elke dag kan je wel naar iets gaan kijken in een door kunstenaars uit de grond gestampte plek, zoals Troebel Neyntje van Idris Sevenans, ABC Kluphuis, Forbidden City, Pink House enzovoort.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nBij de tentoonstelling hoort een boek, dat werd gemaakt door de kunstenaar Nico Dockx, die mij een jaar lang elke dag een vraag heeft gesteld. Als jongeman hoorde ik al over Nico spreken als over een begaafd skater die in een naburig dorp woonde. Later zijn we elk onze eigen weg gegaan tot ik hem vorig jaar op weg naar de bakker tegenkwam en vroeg of hij mij wilde interviewen naar aanleiding van een soloshow in Project Space 1646 in Den Haag.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIk vraag Nico Dockx (\u0026deg;1974) of hij ons iets wil vertellen over de tentoonstelling.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDockx: \u0026ldquo;Wat mij vooral opviel, en dan heb ik het niet over het werk an sich, maar over wat het doet met de omgeving en het publiek, was de enorme frisheid, de enorme energie die leek vrij te komen. Bij het boek dat je zelf kon volstempelen, vond je alle soorten mensen: bejaarden, kinderen, maar ook Luc Tuymans en Anny De Decker die enthousiast aan het stempelen waren. Veel mensen gedroegen zich tijdens de vernissage alsof het om een echt feest ging. De gebruikelijke belegen, negatieve sfeer ontbrak. De werken leken een soort van dynamiek op gang te brengen. Hetzelfde zag je bij de installatie met de wapperende benzinestation-vlaggen (\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo;): jong en oud werd meegesleept. Ik hoop dat ons boek eenzelfde dynamiek op gang kan brengen bij de lezer.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIk wandel met Tyfus door het park zonder dat we de diepere betekenis van zijn oeuvre trachten te doorgronden. Naast twee sculpturen die deel uitmaken van de vaste collectie van het Middelheim (waaronder \u0026lsquo;Het zotte geweld\u0026rsquo; van Rik Wouters) werden klankwerken geplaatst die in lus gemonteerde zangstonden ten gehore brengen: door Tyfus zelf voortgebrachte noise die aan de bezwerende liederen van sjamanen doet denken.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Als ik sculpturen zie, hoor ik geluiden,\u0026rdquo; vertelt hij. \u0026ldquo;Nu kan iedereen ze horen.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDe installatie \u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo; bestaat uit een tiental ineenstortende, buigende, knielende en zich dan weer fluks oprichtende, kleurige benzinestation-wapperaars met getekende gezichten. In de rammelende perstekst lees ik dat ze het grasplein op een festivalweide doen lijken. Ik heb nog nooit een festivalweide gezien, zodat ik de installatie alleen maar kan zien als een nieuwe vorm van sculptuur of aanwezigheid in een beeldenpark.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Elke keer als ik zo\u0026rsquo;n skytube bij een tankstation zag pogo\u0026euml;n hoorde ik \u0026lsquo;Burn Your House Down\u0026rsquo; van Wolf Eyes,\u0026rsquo; vertelt Tyfus. \u0026ldquo;Hier wordt de muziek gemaakt door de compressoren.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOp een plek tussen de bomen vinden we drie sculpturen met realistische, rubberen koppen, zeer goed gemaakt, die bekogeld worden met automatisch weggeslingerde tennisballen en gedwongen moeten luisteren naar goa-trance.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Dat is afschuwelijke house-muziek waar op gedanst werd door lieden met dreadlocks die zich terugtrokken in een bos om hallucinogene champignons te eten. Hippieshit uit de jaren negentig.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn het Braempaviljoen vinden we een twintig meter lange, prachtige, u-vormige tafel waar de toeschouwers aan de hand van 160 stempels zelf gestalte kunnen geven aan een 160 bladzijden tellend blanco boek. Het is een van de krachtigste sculpturale antwoorden op dit prachtige paviljoen die ik ooit heb gezien.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Ik ben altijd op zoek naar manieren om mijn tekeningen in de wereld te strooien,\u0026rdquo; vertelt Tyfus. \u0026ldquo;In het begin ging het meestal om platenhoezen. Later heb ik de \u0026lsquo;No Choice Tattoos\u0026rsquo; bedacht. Dit stempelboek is een nieuwe vorm om mijn tekeningen te laten reizen en om te zetten in iets meer tastbaars.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn Pinkie Bowtie kunt u kennismaken met kleurpotlood-tekeningen van Tyfus. Toen hij mij vorig jaar rondleidde in de eerste aflevering van deze tentoonstelling, bleek ik de eerste te zijn die opmerkte dat Tyfus voor het eerst volumes had getekend. \u0026ldquo;Ik was die vlakke tekeningen kotsbeu,\u0026rdquo; vertelde hij. \u0026ldquo;Ik lag ziek in bed en iemand had mij een doos met kleurpotloden gegeven. Ineens ontstond er een nieuw soort tekening.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, 3 november 2018\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"fr","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eMy Knee\u0026rsquo;s Pierced Needs\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus at Middelheim and Pinkie Bowtie\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cem\u003eI would like to begin this essay with a modest tribute to Menno Meewis (1954-2012), who after becoming director of Middelheim Museum in 1993 gradually annexed all the parks and other land round about. Keen to show me what he was planning to do with the newly acquired Nachtegalenpark, one day I found myself being driven through the park in a golf cart. Ignoring all the usual footpaths, he slalomed through the wood at speed like an accomplished skater, uphill, downhill, pitilessly flattening the occasional burgeoning plant and shrub that lay in his path. I would like to add that in her collaboration with Dennis Tyfus (\u0026deg;1979), Menno Meewis\u0026rsquo; successor Sara Weyns (\u0026deg;1980) is continuing the work at Middelheim in her own way, but in the spirit of her predecessor. \u003c/em\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nRecently I met the young Canadian fashion designer Holden St George who told me that he got into fashion through skateboarding. \u0026ldquo;Skating, queerness and fashion are three ways to energize space,\u0026rdquo; he said. What he meant by that, I think, is that a skateboarder who doesn\u0026rsquo;t restrict himself to a designated skateboarding area can put to improper use all the objects he encounters in the public space. The skateboarder uses his own secret routes to get around (Michel de Certeau), just as the ruttish or persecuted male homosexual finds an alternative purpose for station halls and dimly-lit public gardens.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn a not dissimilar way, queerness and fashion show us that the world can be different and that we don\u0026rsquo;t have to submit despondently to the rules of know-alls, schoolmasters and museum directors. Innovative artists demand the right to do things differently and to be different. They regenerate art by not bowing to the pressure of convention. And they do so, not because they want to regenerate art, but because they cannot or will not behave any other way. By claiming the right to deviate from the norm, they not only make room for themselves, but also for others. So their obstinate and contrary approach to ideas and forms also acquires a political dimension, because it shows that the world, or the way we see it, can be flexible. Artists create breathing space.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus also came to the art world through skateboarding. He couldn\u0026rsquo;t skate very well, but he was attracted to the skating culture. He told me this back in 2003, when I saw him at work for the first time in the unheated exhibition space of Lokaal 01, which Vaast Colson had put at his disposal. He was making a large-format drawing on a painted background. Up until then, I had only seen one artist draw with such precision. When several weeks later I heard that the Flemish Commission for Visual Art had informed Tyfus that they didn\u0026rsquo;t \u0026ldquo;regard his work as relevant to contemporary art\u0026rdquo;, I visited and interviewed the then 23-year-old artist. In an article published in NieuwZuid, I defended him and tried to explain to the ladies and gentlemen of the Commission that nobody can know whether a person\u0026rsquo;s work is relevant to contemporary art (because by definition it escapes the judgement of the so-called experts, who can only base their judgement on what has gone before), but that here we clearly had a fabulous draftsman who was taking a completely new approach. Today, 15 years on, a government institution has at last given the artist carte blanche to work freely. The result is impressive.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nFor the last 20 years, Tyfus has continuously visited and created spaces where he \u0026lsquo;does his thing\u0026rsquo;: for example, he has organized concerts and poetic events like the Bamba Night with Dani\u0026euml;l the World-famous Botanist. At the invitation of Middelheim, he designed a concrete sculpture, which can also be used as an independently accessible, public meeting place.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus: \u0026ldquo;Sara Weyns had sounded me out on several occasions about possible contributions to group exhibitions. One of my proposals was a ballet performance at deSingel which would be called \u0026lsquo;Ball\u0026egrave;tjes in tomatensaus\u0026rsquo; (Ballet pieces in tomato sauce). When she invited me to participate in the group exhibition \u0026lsquo;Experience Traps\u0026rsquo;, I asked the architects Fvww Architecten to help me design a concrete tiered seating bank concealing a lockable bar underneath. There is also a stage, lighting and electricity. The place is enclosed like a prison, but is accessible both from the museum and the road, so that it can serve as a sculpture and also as a concert space.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nI have spent my life looking for places where I can do things. In 1996 I came across VogelVrijStad in Meistraat in Antwerp, a school broken into by squatters who organized events there. It made an impression on me, not least because of all the different kinds of people it attracted: anarchists, the homeless, poets, politicians, artists, punks\u0026hellip; Concerts were organized in the cellar. All generations congregated at VogelVrijStad because there was no other venue in the city where you could listen to strange music and rub shoulders with like-minded people. There was de Sorm in Deurne and the Lintfabriek in Kontich, where good concerts were organized, but in the city itself there was only VogelVrijStad. It led in a roundabout way to the creation of Scheld\u0026rsquo;apen and after that I set up the venues Gunther, Stadslimiet and Pinkie Bowtie, first with Vaast Colson and later with Peter Fengler. Nowadays things are very different in Antwerp. Every day you can go and look at something in a place set up by artists, like Idris Sevenans\u0026rsquo; Troebel Neyntje, ABC Kluphuis, Forbidden City, Pink House, etc.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nA book has been published to accompany the exhibition. It was compiled by the artist Nico Dockx, who asked me a question every day for a year. As a young man I heard people talk about Nico as a gifted skateboarder who lived in a neighbouring village. Later on we went our separate ways until I bumped into him last year en route to the baker\u0026rsquo;s and asked him if he would like to interview me for an upcoming solo show at Project Space 1646 in The Hague.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nI ask Nico Dockx (\u0026deg;1974) if he would like to tell us something about the exhibition.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDockx: \u0026ldquo;The thing that really struck me \u0026ndash; and I am not talking about the work itself, but about what it does to the surroundings and the public \u0026ndash;, was the tremendous freshness, the tremendous energy it seemed to release. All kinds of people gathered around the book which you could fill with stamps: elderly men and women, children, but also Luc Tuymans and Anny De Decker who were stamping away enthusiastically. At the private view, lots of people behaved as if they were at a party. There was none of the customary stuffy, negative atmosphere. The works seemed to spark a dynamic energy. It was the same with the installation with the fluttering petrol station flags (\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo;): young and old were carried away with enthusiasm. I hope our book sparks the same dynamic energy among its readers.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus and I walk through the park without trying to fathom the deeper meaning of his oeuvre. Soundworks had been placed next to two sculptures which are part of Middelheim\u0026rsquo;s permanent collection (including Rik Wouters\u0026rsquo; \u0026lsquo;Mad Maiden\u0026rsquo;). They play soundtracks arranged in a loop: noise generated by Tyfus himself, reminiscent of shamanic rituals.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;When I see sculptures, I hear sounds,\u0026rdquo; he says. \u0026ldquo;Now everyone can hear them.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo; installation consists of some ten colourful, petrol station-type \u0026lsquo;tube men\u0026rsquo; with drawn faces, which collapse, bend, kneel and then quickly straighten up again. In the press release, I read that they make the grassy expanse look like a festival site. Never having set eyes on a festival site, I can only see the installation as a new form of sculpture or presence in a sculpture park.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Every time I saw an inflatable skydancer pogoing at a filling station, I heard \u0026lsquo;Burn Your House Down\u0026rsquo; by Wolf Eyes,\u0026rdquo; Tyfus tells me. \u0026ldquo;Here the music is made by the compressors.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOn a spot among the trees, we find three sculptures with realistic rubber heads, very well made, being bombarded with automatically launched tennis balls and forced to listen to Goa trance.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;That is awful house music, danced to by people with dreadlocks who would go off to the woods to eat magic mushrooms. 1990s hippie shit.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn the Braem pavilion we find a magnificent, 20-metre-long, u-shaped table where the spectators can use 160 stamps to personalize a 160-page blank book. It is one of the most powerful sculptural responses to this magnificent pavilion I have ever seen.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;I am always looking for ways to spread my drawings round the world,\u0026rdquo; says Tyfus. \u0026ldquo;To start with, it was usually record covers. Later on, I came up with the \u0026lsquo;No Choice Tattoos\u0026rsquo;. This book of stamps is a new way of having my drawings travel and turning them into something more tangible.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOn show at Pinkie Bowtie are crayon drawings by Tyfus. When he gave me a guided tour of the first instalment of this exhibition last year, it seems I was the first to notice that Tyfus had drawn volumes for the first time. \u0026ldquo;I was fed up with those flat drawings,\u0026rdquo; he told me. \u0026ldquo;It came about when I was unwell and lying in bed. Someone had given me a box of crayons and suddenly there I was with a new sort of drawing.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, November 3\u003csup\u003erd\u003c/sup\u003e 2018\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eTranslated by Alison Mouthaan-Gwillim\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"ru","short_description":"","description":""},{"locale":"de","short_description":"","description":"\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n__________\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nHans Theys\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cstrong\u003eMy Knee\u0026rsquo;s Pierced Needs\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus at Middelheim and Pinkie Bowtie\u003c/strong\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cem\u003eI would like to begin this essay with a modest tribute to Menno Meewis (1954-2012), who after becoming director of Middelheim Museum in 1993 gradually annexed all the parks and other land round about. Keen to show me what he was planning to do with the newly acquired Nachtegalenpark, one day I found myself being driven through the park in a golf cart. Ignoring all the usual footpaths, he slalomed through the wood at speed like an accomplished skater, uphill, downhill, pitilessly flattening the occasional burgeoning plant and shrub that lay in his path. I would like to add that in her collaboration with Dennis Tyfus (\u0026deg;1979), Menno Meewis\u0026rsquo; successor Sara Weyns (\u0026deg;1980) is continuing the work at Middelheim in her own way, but in the spirit of her predecessor. \u003c/em\u003e\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nRecently I met the young Canadian fashion designer Holden St George who told me that he got into fashion through skateboarding. \u0026ldquo;Skating, queerness and fashion are three ways to energize space,\u0026rdquo; he said. What he meant by that, I think, is that a skateboarder who doesn\u0026rsquo;t restrict himself to a designated skateboarding area can put to improper use all the objects he encounters in the public space. The skateboarder uses his own secret routes to get around (Michel de Certeau), just as the ruttish or persecuted male homosexual finds an alternative purpose for station halls and dimly-lit public gardens.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn a not dissimilar way, queerness and fashion show us that the world can be different and that we don\u0026rsquo;t have to submit despondently to the rules of know-alls, schoolmasters and museum directors. Innovative artists demand the right to do things differently and to be different. They regenerate art by not bowing to the pressure of convention. And they do so, not because they want to regenerate art, but because they cannot or will not behave any other way. By claiming the right to deviate from the norm, they not only make room for themselves, but also for others. So their obstinate and contrary approach to ideas and forms also acquires a political dimension, because it shows that the world, or the way we see it, can be flexible. Artists create breathing space.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDennis Tyfus also came to the art world through skateboarding. He couldn\u0026rsquo;t skate very well, but he was attracted to the skating culture. He told me this back in 2003, when I saw him at work for the first time in the unheated exhibition space of Lokaal 01, which Vaast Colson had put at his disposal. He was making a large-format drawing on a painted background. Up until then, I had only seen one artist draw with such precision. When several weeks later I heard that the Flemish Commission for Visual Art had informed Tyfus that they didn\u0026rsquo;t \u0026ldquo;regard his work as relevant to contemporary art\u0026rdquo;, I visited and interviewed the then 23-year-old artist. In an article published in NieuwZuid, I defended him and tried to explain to the ladies and gentlemen of the Commission that nobody can know whether a person\u0026rsquo;s work is relevant to contemporary art (because by definition it escapes the judgement of the so-called experts, who can only base their judgement on what has gone before), but that here we clearly had a fabulous draftsman who was taking a completely new approach. Today, 15 years on, a government institution has at last given the artist carte blanche to work freely. The result is impressive.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nFor the last 20 years, Tyfus has continuously visited and created spaces where he \u0026lsquo;does his thing\u0026rsquo;: for example, he has organized concerts and poetic events like the Bamba Night with Dani\u0026euml;l the World-famous Botanist. At the invitation of Middelheim, he designed a concrete sculpture, which can also be used as an independently accessible, public meeting place.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus: \u0026ldquo;Sara Weyns had sounded me out on several occasions about possible contributions to group exhibitions. One of my proposals was a ballet performance at deSingel which would be called \u0026lsquo;Ball\u0026egrave;tjes in tomatensaus\u0026rsquo; (Ballet pieces in tomato sauce). When she invited me to participate in the group exhibition \u0026lsquo;Experience Traps\u0026rsquo;, I asked the architects Fvww Architecten to help me design a concrete tiered seating bank concealing a lockable bar underneath. There is also a stage, lighting and electricity. The place is enclosed like a prison, but is accessible both from the museum and the road, so that it can serve as a sculpture and also as a concert space.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nI have spent my life looking for places where I can do things. In 1996 I came across VogelVrijStad in Meistraat in Antwerp, a school broken into by squatters who organized events there. It made an impression on me, not least because of all the different kinds of people it attracted: anarchists, the homeless, poets, politicians, artists, punks\u0026hellip; Concerts were organized in the cellar. All generations congregated at VogelVrijStad because there was no other venue in the city where you could listen to strange music and rub shoulders with like-minded people. There was de Sorm in Deurne and the Lintfabriek in Kontich, where good concerts were organized, but in the city itself there was only VogelVrijStad. It led in a roundabout way to the creation of Scheld\u0026rsquo;apen and after that I set up the venues Gunther, Stadslimiet and Pinkie Bowtie, first with Vaast Colson and later with Peter Fengler. Nowadays things are very different in Antwerp. Every day you can go and look at something in a place set up by artists, like Idris Sevenans\u0026rsquo; Troebel Neyntje, ABC Kluphuis, Forbidden City, Pink House, etc.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nA book has been published to accompany the exhibition. It was compiled by the artist Nico Dockx, who asked me a question every day for a year. As a young man I heard people talk about Nico as a gifted skateboarder who lived in a neighbouring village. Later on we went our separate ways until I bumped into him last year en route to the baker\u0026rsquo;s and asked him if he would like to interview me for an upcoming solo show at Project Space 1646 in The Hague.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nI ask Nico Dockx (\u0026deg;1974) if he would like to tell us something about the exhibition.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nDockx: \u0026ldquo;The thing that really struck me \u0026ndash; and I am not talking about the work itself, but about what it does to the surroundings and the public \u0026ndash;, was the tremendous freshness, the tremendous energy it seemed to release. All kinds of people gathered around the book which you could fill with stamps: elderly men and women, children, but also Luc Tuymans and Anny De Decker who were stamping away enthusiastically. At the private view, lots of people behaved as if they were at a party. There was none of the customary stuffy, negative atmosphere. The works seemed to spark a dynamic energy. It was the same with the installation with the fluttering petrol station flags (\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo;): young and old were carried away with enthusiasm. I hope our book sparks the same dynamic energy among its readers.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nTyfus and I walk through the park without trying to fathom the deeper meaning of his oeuvre. Soundworks had been placed next to two sculptures which are part of Middelheim\u0026rsquo;s permanent collection (including Rik Wouters\u0026rsquo; \u0026lsquo;Mad Maiden\u0026rsquo;). They play soundtracks arranged in a loop: noise generated by Tyfus himself, reminiscent of shamanic rituals.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;When I see sculptures, I hear sounds,\u0026rdquo; he says. \u0026ldquo;Now everyone can hear them.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026lsquo;The Pogo Never Stops\u0026rsquo; installation consists of some ten colourful, petrol station-type \u0026lsquo;tube men\u0026rsquo; with drawn faces, which collapse, bend, kneel and then quickly straighten up again. In the press release, I read that they make the grassy expanse look like a festival site. Never having set eyes on a festival site, I can only see the installation as a new form of sculpture or presence in a sculpture park.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;Every time I saw an inflatable skydancer pogoing at a filling station, I heard \u0026lsquo;Burn Your House Down\u0026rsquo; by Wolf Eyes,\u0026rdquo; Tyfus tells me. \u0026ldquo;Here the music is made by the compressors.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOn a spot among the trees, we find three sculptures with realistic rubber heads, very well made, being bombarded with automatically launched tennis balls and forced to listen to Goa trance.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;That is awful house music, danced to by people with dreadlocks who would go off to the woods to eat magic mushrooms. 1990s hippie shit.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nIn the Braem pavilion we find a magnificent, 20-metre-long, u-shaped table where the spectators can use 160 stamps to personalize a 160-page blank book. It is one of the most powerful sculptural responses to this magnificent pavilion I have ever seen.\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026ldquo;I am always looking for ways to spread my drawings round the world,\u0026rdquo; says Tyfus. \u0026ldquo;To start with, it was usually record covers. Later on, I came up with the \u0026lsquo;No Choice Tattoos\u0026rsquo;. This book of stamps is a new way of having my drawings travel and turning them into something more tangible.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nOn show at Pinkie Bowtie are crayon drawings by Tyfus. When he gave me a guided tour of the first instalment of this exhibition last year, it seems I was the first to notice that Tyfus had drawn volumes for the first time. \u0026ldquo;I was fed up with those flat drawings,\u0026rdquo; he told me. \u0026ldquo;It came about when I was unwell and lying in bed. Someone had given me a box of crayons and suddenly there I was with a new sort of drawing.\u0026rdquo;\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u003cbr /\u003e\r\nMontagne de Miel, November 3\u003csup\u003erd\u003c/sup\u003e 2018\u003cbr /\u003e\r\n\u0026nbsp;\u003c/p\u003e\r\n\r\n\u003cp style=\"text-align: justify;\"\u003eTranslated by Alison Mouthaan-Gwillim\u003c/p\u003e\r\n"},{"locale":"es","short_description":"","description":""},{"locale":"el","short_description":"","description":""}],"actors":[]}