In a studio that would make many an artist jealous-spacious, with high ceilings and in the middle of the city-we talked to Klaske Bootsma about her work. While her work seems to be direct and carefree, things turn out to be much more complicated for her.
‘I was born in Amsterdam (1995), but I moved to Friesland when I was 16. I first wanted to study Illustration, but Autonomous Fine Art seemed freer as a study. I didn't like the idea of working on commission later, as you would with Illustration. At Minerva, I started drawing and painting, but soon I was overwhelmed with everything that could be art, making the first years something of a mental crisis for me. I graduated in 2018, but I was not satisfied with my graduation work. I had made it purely to have something for my graduation. It felt contrived, and after graduation I was so done with it that I hardly made any art for three years. That was until SIGN asked me for the open call Artist in Space, and I thus got the chance to work for six weeks in an old factory in Kolderveen, with no obligation of a final presentation. The space was huge, and I decided that my work was only right if I could fill the whole floor with work. I made piles of drawings and paintings and realised that I actually really liked it. Then I started painting again and enrolled in the Master's degree in Painting at the Frank Mohr Institute.
I became obsessed with selfie culture and influencers
The master's study was full of real painters, unlike my bachelor's, where everyone worked with any kind of medium. But now I was surrounded by people who had known for much longer what they were working on and what they wanted to do. I learnt a lot from all the feedback sessions from that time. I made a lot of self-portraits back then and became obsessed with selfie culture and influencers. On the one hand, I was uncomfortable making these images, but that simultaneously made it exciting. It was a bit like taking a selfie, which also has something uncomfortable about it.
During my master's, I switched from canvas to wooden panels. Originally, they served as sketches and I used them because I had no money. You could get discarded wood for free, but since then I have taken a liking to it. Using leftover materials felt liberating for me because you can do anything with them without the sense of responsibility you get as an artist when you work with traditional materials. I have sometimes received comments that I should handle my work better and buy more expensive materials, but then those people have not really understood what I am doing.
What does it add if I am purely expressing myself?
My work is a constant struggle with painting. I think as an artist it is normal to wonder what you are doing, but also I have a strong aversion to the idea of self-expression. I always wonder what a viewer is supposed to do with it - what does it add if I am purely expressing myself? I stopped making portraits because it felt too illustrative. It might be better to think of my works as performative, because the action and the end result are of equal importance to me. My paintings are a literal print of painting, and with many works you can see exactly what has been done-and that is immediately the whole painting. For me, a painting doesn't have to hide or complicate anything. A work is not interesting if you reason it completely shut.
I work mostly with acrylic, because it dries quickly and doesn't smell. Sometimes I paint over old paintings. Some works are finished in an hour, others take a year. It sometimes takes a long time before you know what you think of it yourself. Sometimes I also just grab a saw and saw off a piece.
For my current exhibition at Y2, I switched to large canvases. Large works are a counterpart to the small, intuitive actions I normally make. At small size, you bridge an entire composition with one brushstroke, while a large canvas forces you to think longer about each movement. These canvases help as a break from my standard way of working. They are less a snapshot of the making itself and more narrative.
I can't explain exactly what I do, a lot I just let happen.
I have also sometimes painted on wooden blocks so small they fit in your hand or pocket. That's where I dared to do the most. On a large canvas, the subject blasts into your face and then it's a completely different story. A small brush stroke that becomes big suddenly takes on a heft and disproportionate meaning, which is not always right for me. I can't explain exactly what I do, a lot I just let happen. It is an intuitive and personal process that best suits how I am as an artist.’
Klaske Bootsma's solo exhibition in Y2 (Damsterdiep 299) can still be seen on Saturday 1 March (1-5 p.m.) and Sunday 2 March (2-6 p.m.).
Text: Dinnis van Dijken
Photos: Sander van der Bij