London’s David Zwirner gallery presents new works by the Belgian artist Michaël Borremans. Titled 'Black Mould', the collection of paintings depicts a series of sinister hooded figures, whose silhouettes appear familiar yet enigmatic. Painted with the technical flair and colour sensibility of a Flemish master, Borremans’ subjects are outfitted in costumes inspired by puppet players of the Japanese Bunraku theatre tradition, while also recalling tribal dress, the Catholic church and the Ku Klux Klan.
We chatted with Borremans on the eve of the exhibition’s opening, during a reception in his honour held at the Belgian Ambassador’s residence in London.
‘It’s different than what I have been doing before – this is more disturbing and dangerous,’ admits the painter, whose body of work includes solemn portraits and still-lives usually delivered in less dramatic tones. ‘This work is really reflecting of the world today,’ he explains, noting how his black figurines perform a ‘danse macabre’ which represents the dark side of humanity. The starting point was provided by a Bunraku costume that had been hanging in his studio for years, serving as a silent inspiration. ‘In Japanese puppet theatre, you usually don’t see these costumes, as they are against a black background,’ the artist says. ‘I wanted to bring them upfront to become the main characters.’
The first part of the exhibition features 16 tableaux, each depicting a dancing figure: a series, Borremans tells us, painted while listening to the American rock band Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. One song in particular, Black Mould, also inspired the exhibition title.
A second series depicts the same characters in larger contexts, performing more outré acts such as juggling fiery limbs and having anal sex. The small scale of some of the paintings (at 10 x 12 inches, they're much smaller than the rest of Borremans’ work) enhance the feeling of toy figurines playing a twisted game with an open-ended narrative, and adds a further dimension to his mysterious depiction of human nature.
It’s a body of work which develops as each layer is unveiled: the challenging, almost disturbing first impact is softened as the humorous context of Borremans’ inspiration is revealed.
For the show, he has transformed the gallery into a dark and foreboding space – presenting his works on a deep bottle-green background with minimal illumination. A small hardcover catalogue exquisitely designed by the artist with his long-term graphics collaborator, designer Kim Beirnaert, accompanies the show – a perfectly formed document of this memorable body of work.
Faceless silhouettes shrouded in black move in a manic and ritualistic way, leaving the viewer with nothing but an uncomfortable feeling of confusion as to their intent.
A second series depicts the same characters in larger contexts, acting out gross, disturbing acts including juggling fiery limbs and copulation.
Defined by their mechanical movement, Borremans' figures take inspiration from the operator costumes of Japanese bunraku theatre. Though usually invisible against a dark background, here the artist shifts the focus and drags them into the light.
'This work is really reflecting the world of today,' says Borremans, who describes the series as both 'disturbing and dangerous'.
Other idiosyncratic pieces, such as The Badger's song – an anthropomorphic re-envisioning of the titular animal – complement the series' disorientating atmosphere; as a whole, the works create a sense of profound discomfort and unease.
Placed on a dark navy-blue background, the artworks stand out in the darkness and remain isolated from each other, as if to further emphasise the eerie sense of disquietude.
A small hardcover catalogue designed by Borremans with his long-term graphics collaborator, designer Kim Beirnaert, accompanies the show.
The publication is a perfectly formed, encyclopaedic contribution to the artist's body of work.
The show's figures play a twisted game with an open-ended narrative, adding a new, mysterious dimension to Borreman's existing depictions of human nature.
Borreman's bizarre tableaux maintain a grim theatricality, seemingly following a dark symbolic language incomprehensible to the viewer.
Painting has remained a cental tenet in the Borreman's practice, a means of creating a simplistic visual world full of temporally disjointed figures (here engaged in inexplicable acts).
The provocative, disturbing actions of the artist's images are often set against a blank background, reminiscent of an empty artist's studio.
ADDRESS
David Zwirner London
24 Grafton Street
London W1S 4EZ