︎

Blue, 2024

‘Blue’ is the fruit of a multi-disciplinary reflection by Jivan van der Ende, who has invited graphic artist Elena Op ‘t Eynde to appropriate her work by performing as a policeman, with the aim of playing on political dynamics of power or censorship, questioning authoritarian apparatuses and gender identity in patriarchy.

Jivan van der Ende shifts her practice towards new mediums while also inviting others to take part, thereby prompting a reflection on the authorship of the artwork and its dispossession in favour of a collaborative and trust-based approach. For ‘Blue’, she seeks to play with authorship—often referred to as ‘paternity’ in a legal context—by including a new protagonist: The Policeman, portrayed by a fellow graphic artist. These two figures, embodied as one, feed off each other to manipulate the artist’s editorial work. This performed hybrid archetype then questions the boundaries of creation and its regulation, as well as the violence that can arise from the reappropriation of the object and its corrected intimacy.  - SB34

  


Blue
19, 20 OCT 2024 at SB34 Clovis, Brussels

A presentation in preparation of a new artist book by Jivan van der Ende coming out in 2025 @ P////AKT Amsterdam


Thank you SB34
Pauline Hatzigeorgiou, Rokko Miyoshi and Joséphine Wagnier

Photographs: Adam Paluch
Video works of rehearsals: Jivan van der Ende
Performance documentation: Siemen van Gaubergen

Supported by VGC Brussels, Dutch Embassy in Belgium
Supported by @loterienationaleloterij, @federation_wallonie_bruxelles











During the same weekend, SB34 organised its annual Open Studios. Here some pictures on my studio:









︎ Conversation Between the Artist, The Policeman and the Commissaire

Joséphine Wagnier, Elena Op ‘t Eynde and Jivan van der Ende talk together in the context of the presentation of ‘Blue’ and the SB34 Clovis Open Studios. ‘Blue’ is a new installation and performance by Jivan van der Ende in preparation for her artist book, which is coming out in 2025.

    19 October 2024, Brussels



      Jivan, how did the fictional character ‘The Policeman’ come about in your artistic practice, which is based in print and installation work?

Jivan: ‘The Policeman’ was created in the context of my first solo exhibition ‘(ALL OF THE TIME)’, at LLS Paleis, Antwerp 2020. For this show I created a performance and installation which looped every 30 minutes. It consisted of print work, video work, an exhibition publication and scenes which glued the spectacle together. In the performance/exhibition I wanted to work live in the space with notions such as power relations and so I came up with the idea of a character who had authority over my work and the space. This character would take control of the exhibition through patrolling, turning works on/off, enforcing obedience. With her scenes she manipulated the works and made the audience witness the manipulation. Following a set of instructions The Policeman's scenes linked the various works together. The ultimate power in determining how the works were displayed lay with The Policeman. As an artist, I am interested in relinquishing control over my work, questioning what it means to be a maker and experimenting with the process of making. Through genderbending and playful experimentation, I developed the absurdist, authoritarian-critical, patriarchal role of The Policeman for Elena Op ‘t Eynde, friend, graphic designer and publisher.


    Why was it necessary for The Policeman to make a comeback?

Jivan: It was so much fun to orchestrate a return of the character of The Policeman, and create an elaborate opportunity for myself to work on power dynamics again, more specifically the ones we are submitted to and oppressed by as queer women. It was quite cathartic to set up a simulation of a violent patriarchal structure within the context of my own practice, and to work in it with a trusted friend, to artistically analyse these structures together and the societal institutions that keep violent authority, sexism and queerphobia alive. Another reason to bring the character back was to challenge the idea of authorship and what an art work actually is. I have been working on a series of print works since 2020 and wanted to develop and challenge the idea of publishing this series, through experimenting with the notion of editing and publishing. With the idea of making a book with Elena, the stars were aligned to develop a publication (and therefore a performative extension) of the series with her designing and editing the publication as The Policeman. The way we collaborated also invited a kind of intimacy which interested me a lot, both into the process and into the way the work is presented to the audience. We are publishing the final series and showing how we got there. We have created this character from personal perspectives and experiences with violence, sexism and authority and it has resulted in a laborious, fun and gender bending exploration of character development.


    Elena, what is your perspective on collaborating with artists and the medium of the artist book?

Elena: As a graphic designer I’ve always been drawn to working with artists. I find it interesting to immerse myself in another’s practice, examine their mediums and philosophies and try to translate this to print. It’s a really fun challenge for a graphic designer to bridge that gap between design and fine art through the artist's publication. I like to take my time getting to know the artist’s practice which is why I really enjoy long-term collaborations. To get to see them and their work evolve is exciting and brings along new possibilities for expressing things on paper. The artist’s book is a great companion to an artist's practice. It allows the artist to capture a moment in their practice and fix it in a compendium. One that can be easily shared, that an audience can take home and one that can later be archived to reflect on. Even more so for performance artists. I’m fascinated by this fleeting aspect of movement and trying to translate that not only onto the paper but also into the paper. Reading can be such a tactile and physical experience. In the past few years I’ve worked more and more with performance artists, trying to design artist’s books that not only reflect the performance but also become a part of it. It feels quite fitting that now I too become part of the performance in some way and through this find new ways to design a publication.


    In this project you are not designing as yourself, but designing while playing the role of The Policeman. Did this bring anything new to your designing practice?

Elena: It’s been quite a challenge to take on this role and come up with ways to design a publication, as I feel I really leave myself behind when I step into the shoes of The Policeman, which also means I leave the graphic designer that is me behind. I only really started to see how things were coming together once we started rehearsing and I got back in the suit, back into his skin. During the first performance in LLS, back in 2020, he was a coat I slipped on, there wasn’t much nuance to him yet for me. Over the course of the preparation for the design of this publication and this performance it was nice to be able to talk about him more, to understand what he means to the artist, and give him more context. I’ve come to understand that a lot of the tools that The Policeman uses—control, authority, ownership, censorship—are also tools that are in some way integrated into a designer's practice. I’m very aware when an artist entrusts me with their images and words that I essentially take control over how these things will be represented and interpreted. Usually I approach this very carefully, it’s one of the reasons the conversation with the artist is an important element in my design process. In taking on the character of The Policeman I get to let my mindfulness around this go and take full ownership of the material of the artist, which has been surprisingly difficult. The side of me that looks for the carefully analysed aesthetic choice still plagues me in the back of my mind while The Policeman tries to go to town on Jivan’s material.


    How is the collaboration between the artist and graphic designer influenced by the use of a fictional authority figure?

Elena: The fictional character has taken on a very dominant presence in our collaboration, as was to be expected of him. It’s been an interesting experience to take the focus of the artist and the designer and talk about this fictional man who now stands between us. We’ve spent a lot of time getting to know him, and as he’s taken a more clear shape he’s also been more dominantly present. During our rehearsals I would slip in and out of character and we would dissect The Policeman’s actions which would give me, the graphic designer, a better understanding of his raison d'être, and therefore also a better idea of the tools he uses that can be translated into the design process. Jivan would comment on his oppressive behavior and the way he represents things she struggles with. But as this knowledge was passed to on me, it was automatically passed on to The Policeman, who could in turn use all this information against her work in his next appearance. In this way, the role of The Policeman got fleshed out further, and the framework we were building around his actions became clearer. It’s a very hands-on way of creating a design process that has allowed me to let go of my initial ideas around the publication design, which were initially playing with quite stereotypical images of censorship and oppression. By taking on this role the actual action of designing has become an organic process that is almost out of my hands. It’s going to be interesting to see what material comes out of this and how it will eventually turn into an actual publication.


    Joséphine, would you like to expand on your practice as a cultural producer and exhibition maker? Can you tell us a bit about your perspective on the practice of curating?

Joséphine: I’ll start by saying that the connotation of the term commissaire*, the French word for curator (*used to designate also a chief policeman), is quite revealing of what is expected of us. It is our responsibility to oversee, to ensure the smooth running and proper management of a project or exhibition. I have long sought to emancipate myself from this term, as well as from that of curator which literally means to take care of. And in French, again, it's reminiscent of the word curatelle, which refers to the act of taking charge of a legal adult’s administrative or financial affairs. It feels almost maternal, it’s just a switch from a patriarchal figure that has been disguised. The notion of care has emerged with a certain degree of goodwill in contemporary art, but in my view, it’s not explored deeply enough. To say we are implementing care without truly questioning it or practicing it brings forth numerous forms of violence. And it’s also very difficult to consider oneself as the sole caretaker: caretaker of the works, the artists, the project. There’s something very self-proclaimed and individualising about it. Certainly, a person needs to be designated to coordinate tasks that are secondary to the creation, but we shouldn’t take on the sole role of responsibility. We need to demystify this inaccessible figure as well—a curator is nothing without all the other individuals who accompany a project.

In my case and in this context, it's rather equivocal: I'm not the curator who commissioned or thought up this project, but the one who accompanies it attentively and without imposing anything. Quite the opposite of the third entity that makes up the ‘Blue’ project, the Policeman. This demonstrates the desire to keep a distance from the figure of the commissaire/curator, who can provide or demand a certain service. If I'd signed the project as a curator, perhaps that would have generated other parameters, other expectations. And I wonder: would the Policeman have been able to appear between the artists involved in the project and this other figure with this ability to persuade one choice rather than another? Would he have stood up to the commissaire?


    How do you relate to the egomaniac stereotypical figure of the curator?

Joséphine: On the one hand, I understand why this very self-centred figure emerged. As mentioned earlier, it’s a laborious job and not very recognised, and we are constantly pushed to prove ourselves. The discipline has also come to privilege individuals as the star curators, rather than committees or collectives. There has been a lot of abuse and egos. Many have taken advantage of this situation. Fortunately, we’ve had other models or other ways to make exhibitions, with artists inviting other artists, opening up the creative process to other paths, other perspectives. Just as Jivan did with Elena. On the other hand, there's a whole imaginary world that stems from the language we use, as mentioned above: what is implied by the term commissaire or curator. For people outside the art world, or with little knowledge of the vocation, the term can evoke in them a certain idea of responsibility and must-respect, coming from a decision-maker who embodies law and order. I don't know if this construct can really go to our heads, I haven't yet seen any uniformed curators either, even if we do tend to observe fairly standardised postures, photographed portraits and ways of looking. One thing is certain: there are several figures in one, because it has to respond to several demands. It often has to deal with the institution that hires them, and that's where other disguises come into play: the diplomat, the supervisor, the logistics manager, the delegate, etc.

For the French translation: 
https://sb34.org/blue