About the artist

Rob Buelens / 25.07.1989 / Londerzeel, Belgium based artist

Education

Secondary school, Sint Lukas Brussels

Bachelor Liberal Arts, Sint Lucas Antwerp

Master Liberal arts, Sint Lucas Ghent

SLO (teacher’s education), Sint Lucas Ghent

Curriculum Vitae / Exhibitions

/ PAN Amsterdam
24/11/2024 – 01/12/2024

/ Coutre MAM
Gent
19/09/2024 – 27/10/2024

/ All under Heaven
Puurs-Sint-Amands Cultural center ‘Binder’
06/09/2024 – 24/11/2024

/ Kunst Rai
27/03/2024 – 01/04/2024

/ Vertigo Gallery (Antwerp)
24/11/2023 – 22/11/2023

/ PAN Amsterdam
19/11/2023 – 26/11/23

/ Walking on thin Ice Curator: Lieven Cateau
Zottegem
18/06/2023 – 16/07/2023

/ PAN Amsterdam
20/11/2022 – 27/11/22

/ Kidmie
Schellebelle
04/09/2022 – 25/09/2022

/ Atelier in beeld
Arts Monopole Puurs-Sint-Amands
13/05/22 – 15/05/22

/ Out of the box
Klub Solitaer Chemnitz Germany
16/07/22 – 27/08/22

/ Kunstrai Art Amsterdam
03/05/22 – 07/05/22

/ PAN Amsterdam
22/11/21 – 29/11/21

/ ORBEM NOVIS Curator: Daan Rau
Morbee Gallery, Knokke-Heist
04/09/21 – 07/11/21

/ ART ROTTERDAM
Zerp Galerie, Rotterdam
20/06/2021 – 04/07/2021

/ Private Collection Selected By Hans Vandekerckhove
Tatjana Pieters Nieuwevaart 124, 9000 Gent
19/06/21 – 28/08/21

/ PAN Amsterdam
12/12/2020

/ Art Rotterdam
Zerp Galerie, Rotterdam
01/07/2020 – 04/07/2020

/ KIP, Art In Puurs
Village centre Puurs
18/12/2019 – februari 2020

/ PAN Amsterdam
24/11/2019 – 01/12/2019

/ The Glass house on the quai of Puurs-Sint-Amands
13/10/2019 – 15/01/2020

/ Bouwen voor de eeuwigheid (building for ethernity)
Abdijmuseum Ten Duinen Koksijde
22/06/2019 – 05/01/2020

/ Art Rotterdam
 Zerp Galerie, Rotterdam
07/02/2019 – 10/02/2019

/ No Man’s Land, Commemorative (WW1) land art sculpture
Pondfarm Langemark-Poelkapelle
03/11/2018

/ Temporary Commemorative (WW1) land art sculpture for the battle of Neeravert
Neeravert Londerzeel
29/09/2018

/ Don’t mention the war
Kunstenhuis Harelbeke
07/09/2018

/ Playing fields
ZERP Galerie, Rotterdam
15/07/2018 – 12/08/2018

/ RAW Contemporary art platform
Boortmeerbeek
08/07/2018 – 26/08/2018

/ SECONDroom Ghent
Ghentbrugge
10/03/18

/ Prize of Buggenhout – Liberal arts prize Pieter Vanneste
Buggenhout
7/10/17 – 29/10/17

/ ‘No man’s land’ mud sculpture in Flanders fields / Expo prize of liberal arts in the city of Harelbeke
Kunstenhuis Harelbeke
11/3/17 – 26/3/17

/ Expo Piet Stoutprize
Beveren-Waas
18/10/2015 – 09/10-2016

/ Birth of a giant
Arts Monopole Sint Amands
18/6 – 19/6

/ Theaterwalk
29/6/2016

/ Introduction to the literary giant
29/5/2016

/ Verhaeren on Tour / Construction of a parade giant
Sint Amands

/ KVDM Artist of the month / Retrospective exhibition
Gent
12/3/16 – 17/4/16

/ Cultuurloft Gent
Gent
20/03/2015 – 29/03/2015

/ Light Cube Art Gallery / solo show
Ronse
01/02/2015 – 08/03/2015

/ Galerie Intuiti Bruxelles
Rivoli Building, Bruxelles
14/01/2015 – 28/02/2015

/ To light up the dark / C&H art space
Amsterdam
18/10/14 – 22/11/14

/ C&H art space and Rob Buelens participated in ‘The Solo Project’ Contemporary Art Fair 2014
Basel Switserland
18/06/2014 – 22/06/2014

/ Hotel Bloom Brussels
Brussel, Sint-Joost-ten-Node
24/04/2014

/ Easter show Rob Buelens sculpture
Townhall Sint Amands
19/04/14 – 21/04/14

/ C&H Art space Amsterdam
Amsterdam
01/10/2013

/ Zwerm
Antwerp, IJzerlaan 30
22/06/13 – 23/06/13

/ Project orgiesculptuur + boekbeelden
Gent
14/06/13 – 22/06/13

/ Sousvoir
kunstroute Hoegaarden
04/05/13 – 05/05/13 & 11,12,18 & 19/05

/ Natuurtalent
Londerzeel
27/04/13

/ Artist of the month Zebrastreet
Gent
01/04/13 – 28/04/13

/ Fly me to the Moon
Dendermonde
29/09/12 – 26/10/12

/ Hard work like building sandcastles
Dendermonde
27/08/12 – Jan 2013

/ Set-Off, Mills of Orshoven, (brewery of Stella)
Leuven
08/0912 – 16/09/12

/ ‘Museumnacht’
Rubenshuis, Antwerpen
04/08/12 – 12/08/12

/’The Circle Game’
Brussel
29/06/12 – 01/07/12

/ ‘Verstilde Beelden’
De Notelaer in Hingene, (neoclassical hunter’s pavillion)
28/04/12 – 01/10/12

/ De Invasie
Ghent
31/03/2012 – 01/04/2012

/ Culture festival, Het Onverdraaglijke
Museum M Leuven
19/10/2011 – 22/100/2011

/ “Artknights”
Zwijvekemuseum door Amuseevous, Dendermonde
07/10/2011 – 27/10/2011

 

/ Art (silence)
Bibliotheek Kunstwetenschappen Universiteit Gent
5 september 2011

/ ‘Damo arte exterior’
Destelbergen
21/08/2011

/ ‘Bar Jeudi’ Urban Crafts
Café ‘De Storm’ in the MAS museum – Antwerp
28/07/2011

/ ‘Open M’ ‘Staying long enough-leaving on time’
Museum M, Leuven
09/07/2011 – 21/08/2011

/ ‘Beelden in het middelpunt’
Opdorp, Dries
19/03/2011 – 17/04/2011

/ ‘Mise-en-Place/Mise-en-Scène’
Library of Arts sciences of the university of Ghent, curator Dany Deprez
07/02/2011 – 18/03/2011

/ ”Wildvlees solo expo”
Antwerpen, Berchem
02/04/2010 – 03/04/2010

/ ‘De Passionele Moord, interpretaties van de passie van de meester’
Cultural center Doornik
20/11/2009 – 23/12/2009

/ Amuseevous presents: ‘De passionele moord’, ‘Interpretaties van de passie van de meester’
City hall, Leuven
15/09/2009 – 31/10/2009

/ Sculpture exposition ‘Middelpunt van Vlaanderen’
Opdorp, Dries
April 2007

/ Open Monuments day: ‘Wat een Hammekesnest’
Londerzeel Sint Jozef, in the pastor’s garden
09/09/2007

/ group show ‘VANTOT’
Sint Amands
15/04/2006 -16/04/2006

/ School expositions
Sint Lukas Brussels, Sint Lucas Antwerp & Sint Lucas Ghent from 2001 until 2011 (part of the courses)

 

An ode to cooperation

Text by Filip Luyckx

The typical image of the visual artist is of one who retreats to their studio to work in isolation. At first glance, that might seem solipsistic, but what else can the artist do when the outside world has, to a large extent, lost its sense of community and begun exhibiting increasingly narcissistic traits? This is especially the case if we extend the comparison to past centuries and other cultures. As barometer of their times, the artist is caught between the enduring remnants of timeless logic and self-empathy, and the ephemeral illusions of narcissists lost in their own spectacle. Still, the artist in question does not retreat into satire, instead opting to strike a more positive chord with an ode to the cooperation found within close-knit communities.

From a distance, Rob Buelens’ models intrigue us, but we only gain true insight into the scenes by walking around them and analysing the details from different points of view. Each construction encompasses a great density of activity, teeming with anonymous little figures and layer upon layer of materials. It is comical to observe the masses of Lilliputians joining forces to realise their monumental project, a project far bigger than themselves. There is little doubt as to whether they will succeed, given the ingenuity of their tools and their excellent self-organisation as a labour force. Seen as a collective, it is impossible to single out individuals of greater or lesser talents, but we know that their crew must be some combination of engineers and diligent labourers. Everyone has some skill or other to contribute.

At a scale where infighting is invisible, what emerges before the viewer is a geometric order, a foundational structure that keeps everything on track.  Usually this form can be read in the building frame that is under construction, and in the necessary scaffolding and equipment. The composition’s geometry is completed by long strings of people seen mid-movement, pulling and loading. The swarming intermediate stage of the construction constitutes an architecture all of its own. If these works were to grind to a halt, the remnants would resemble those of destroyed or unfinished monuments. It is truly fascinating to observe the actions on the site and to guess at the how and why of it all. 

Technical necessity is the hand that spreads out the pieces, like pawns on a chessboard or props on a stage. There are no star actors on this stage, however; here the game is crowd directing, with every figure playing their own modest but indispensable role. This unintended spectacle is not the project of any ruler or architect. All the components of the scene suggest that the participants are conducting their duty in full awareness of its meaningfulness. There is no one in particular seeking to claim the glory. Yet each individual feels valued, and there is no need for group coercion. The tone is much more fantastical and humorous, even bordering on childish. This miniature world will always retain the sense of a relativist utopia in our eyes.

This utopia, the actual objective, is not explicitly visible. The completed form cannot be inferred from the models. The viewer is limited to a point when the works are in full swing.

Which historical era have we found ourselves in? The absence of contemporary technology makes one inclined to situate these scenes in the past. On the other hand, we can observe tools that appear relatively advanced, as well as a sophisticated division of labour and monumental ambitions. So we’re more inclined to see it as a highly developed civilisation – just not our present one.  Pyramids, cathedrals and capital city monuments come to mind. The occasional presence of a pulley or crane may provide further hints. The power of the former tool was demonstrated by Archimedes to the King of Syracuse, and the origin of cranes can likewise be traced back to the Greek city-states. 

But perhaps the assumption that we are looking at a construction site of a non-specified monument is misleading. Why are we so quick to give our imagination a free pass to exceed sober perception? The model might just as well depict a rehearsal for a theatre production or a design for a film set. In which case, we are witnessing a rehearsal on a stage full of props and extras. Why not? We are ultimately looking at a scene that originates in the imagination. The work does not tout any particular mission or functionality, nor is it a topographic reconstruction of an existing site. In art and architecture, imagination is its own justification. An imagined scenario opens up parallel worlds alongside our own temporal context. An escape to nowhere and everywhere, a source of inspiration that can shape our reality. Even without having a direct influence on architecture, the effects of the imagination affect social life, as well as both individual and collective psychology. There is something that we find endlessly fascinating about the sort of architecture we deem desirable, undesirable or impossible. Our thinking can be influenced by utopian projects, even those that are not even implemented.

A recurring element in the models is that of towers under construction. These vertical towers are often neutralised in the scene by a horizontal construction zone. The tendency towards height in conjunction with large crowds of people harks back to the mythical Tower of Babel, a beloved subject of Pieter Bruegel and his followers. In the Vienna version of his painting, we look out over a vast landscape with a cosmic dimension: the many-sectioned tower reaches into the clouds, while the vast landscape behind it reaches to infinity, and a constant stream of ships can be seen delivering materials. At the same time, the powerful King Nimrod inspects the construction site. Here the community is clearly following top-down instruction, but the tower transcends both the king and the crowd, threatening to overwhelm the sky, the sea and the landscape. We know that the project will fail in the end. For Bruegel, as a Renaissance artist, this subject was an excellent opportunity to depict the Colosseum, drawing on his technical knowledge in the fields of navigation and architecture, and his mastery of the landscape. Bruegel shimmers through in Buelens’ work, though the painter is far from his only source of inspiration. And while he has Bruegelian leanings, his aims do not align with Babel’s, a project as conceited as it is collectivistic. Indeed, it is immensely naive to assume that one could win total control through such a megalomaniacal obsession. The tower is set against an immense landscape and an abundance of details that we can observe if we ourselves manage to keep both feet on the ground. There lies a certain humility in the detail and the cosmic component. Bruegel’s’ Fall of Icarus contains a comparable underlying message. In Buelens’ models, work ethic, humour and solidarity win out over megalomaniacal excesses. Their microcosmic scenes encourage us to rediscover our modest position in the immensity of the wider cosmos.

The biblical allegory of Jacob’s Ladder is often invoked in response to hubristic attempts to scale the highest peaks. While Jacob is dreaming, a ladder is created that serves as a link between heaven and his mind, with angels moving back and forth across it. This story of the spontaneous fulfilment of a promise is a well to which artists have been returning for centuries. Despite the fact that Jacob’s dream takes place in a different dimension than the Tower of Babel, the two are often linked. Buelens’ depictions can be read in many directions. Ultimately, however, the models remain unshakable in their status as artworks.  And visionary designs can often prove more influential than well-built architecture.

The Baroque and Neoclassical periods were the heyday of the capriccio in painting and architectural design. The genre evolved from depicting realistic, topographical imagery to increasingly imaginative designs with scarcely any chance of being realised. The resulting concepts had a greater affinity with literature, scenography and printmaking. Nevertheless, some brilliant Baroque architects managed to translate some of their visions into actual structures.  Figures like Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, Filippo Juvarra and Luigi Vanvitelli come to mind. Their designs evoke sprawling interior views, with spaces beyond that are sideways or at a higher elevation, all sliding into each other, as it were. Neoclassicism picks up on those concepts, albeit via other stylistic affinities.

Giovanni Battista Piranesi takes that idea to the extreme, making a beeline for utopian territory – entirely impracticable but visionary in terms of influence. It is back to this source that we can trace Etienne-Louis Boullée and the ‘revolutionary’ architects. 

What is striking is the gaping disparity between the imagined vision and the practical reality. Visionary examples awaken archetypes in our collective subconscious. They influence us without us knowing; our sensibility evolves in a certain direction without the archetypes becoming real in a literal sense. They already belong too much to the collective symbolic domain for that to happen. The above designers are not simply wayward eccentrics, it turns out. Their proposals are rooted in a deep knowledge of architecture and drawing. They manage to interpret the imminent zeitgeist with great precision. Furthermore, they are able to tap into the archetypes already present in our minds, in such a way that we cannot help but respond, whether through performed aloofness or involvement, blatant rejection or embrace.

Buelens’ models connect with the utopian architects and painters of the capriccio. They manifest like an artistic game, a commentary on society, an archaeological find imbued with a tragicomic undertone that cannot leave us indifferent. They are works that inevitably nestle in our minds, where memory is readily accessible. He directs his models in such a way that they speak to us directly as individuals, not so much as discrete personalities but as members of a community. This is a tendency that is relegated to the background of post-modern cultures in favour of isolated narcissism. Buelens’ depictions thaw within us ancestral memories of times and places where community was still tightly knit and could be mobilised for communal projects. When a community’s greatest achievement was not necessarily in dazzling results but in their potent alliance. The evocation of this in the models possesses a deep symbolic charge that not only stretches back in time but into the mythological structures that we have woven around these time periods. Myths, facts and symbols can hardly be separated here; they form an unbreakable whole. 

These processes of influence take place in real time, as well as on mythical and symbolic timelines. What we imagined and how we experienced it is of equal weight to the actual facts. The image of the tight-knit community that we could be part of – today we might even describe it as a utopian community – appeals strongly to our inherent love of cooperation. The constructions are integrated in the borderlands between the imaginary and the real world. They could have once been there, and perhaps they never existed in this way, but they are a real part of our symbolic sense of time.

Each model contains a world so rich in and of itself that we might almost forget that visual communication is possible with other models and with the surrounding environment as a whole. When exhibited together, the visual presence of the artworks expands. The more miniature worlds are locked together, the greater the interplay of scenes and the broader the scope of their meaning. That dialogue also plays out between the models and the artefacts – artistic, archaeological, or otherwise – that are present in the museum where they are exhibited. Due to their accessible and small-scale nature, Buelens’ scenes integrate wonderfully with the other elements in the museum. Their presence is neither ostentatious nor disruptive. Inevitably, however, their presence does influence how we view the stories of the other museum objects. With their relativistic humour, they have the ability to keep us humble. They also serve to illustrate the fact that there is so much intelligent and emotional life beyond what we can see – just over the horizon, in other times and cultures, and spanning innumerable subjects. Above all, we learn that human endeavour stands or falls on our capacity for cooperation. Food for thought in a culture of narcissism.