Realistic painters. What is it (and was it) that the realists are so terribly concerned with? Well, in 1604 Karel van Mander wrote in the preface of his famous "Schilderboeck":

"Those serious and dilligent spirits draw enjoyment and delight out of things beautiful and excellent, that as it were surpass nature itself, as in particular the beautiful works of art (...)".

Canto 61: A glance at Mondriaan, 1987

To surpass nature, that is grosso modo what concerned and still concerns artists. From Joos de Momper to Piet Mondriaan, from Van Eyck to Van Gogh and further, to the painters of today. Surpass, improve, worsen, embellish. Apparently nearly all art strives to change nature, to change reality. Thus the artist depicts not reality as it exists, but reality as is wished. Realistic art has, therefore, never really existed. Even contemporary realists manipulate reality. And that is precisely what I as an artist try to avoid. I say "try", as it is by no means easy. And I am not of untainted stock as far as this antropocentric trait goes. Yet my work centers more around exploration, around examination.

It may be clear by now that all this delving into the nature of reality makes this reality progressingly more elusive. Reality as such doesn’t exist - that is what has become apparent to me. There is an elusive moment at which everything momentarily seems to be at rest, but in less than a blink of an eye everything has changed completely. Therefore there is nu such thing as realistic painting. The art of painting does exist - abstract painting, non-figurative, cubist, expressionistic - all these forms of painting exist. It’s the works that we see and they represent what they are, nothing less and nothing more. But a realistic painting - is that supposed to represent that elusive reality? It is by its nature impossible.

We should therefore really eliminate the term realism, but that is of course not feasible. If we do want a definition after all, I suggest the following. Realistic art is that form of art that, as expressed in paint, violates concrete reality as little as possible. And with all this we should keep in mind that:

"what matters is that what is painted isn’t an imaginated reality, but a reality that is permeated by imagination."

In fact I am only a pathetic hunter. Or rather: a hunter-gatherer. I exhibit pieces of skin, because the contents keeps escaping me. But: provided they are conserved properly, they last reasonably long, they are a sight for sore eyes, they surprisingly appeal to our sense of touch, and who knows also give off some warmth.

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