Lotte Wieringa’s Paintings Put Personal Mark-Making Centre Stage
Nothing wakes up my painting mind quite like looking at the work of Lotte Wieringa. Her lively mark-making sprawls across enormous canvases, giving the feeling of a living process: colours vibrate, gestures react to other gestures, scratches and smears hide behind huge slashes of paint. To observe Lotte’s work closely is to enjoy a fulfilling feast.
As a painter, what excites me in Lotte’s work is a kind of visual dance. The frenzied energy in her finished pieces makes me picture the movements of Lotte in creating them. I also wonder about the joys of working in such a fearless and fluid motion, especially on the scale she works on. When you see the possibilities of that scale - how marks interact within a large space - it’s hard not to be inspired to stretch your own gigantic canvas and let the games begin.
As with my favourite paintings, Lotte’s work evokes a sense of fun, of play, and a fearlessness in the way she gets stuck into her painting battles. I had to go deeper into the personality of Lotte’s mark-making, so I dropped the Dutch artist a DM on Instagram and she was up for a chat.
Hey Lotte. Firstly, I noticed the text 'burgundy red’ in a few pieces. Has that colour and those words become a kind of obsession for you? What's the story there?
Colour has a lot to say and does that without words. Red is one of those colours that a wide variety of emotions can connect to. When you think back to moments you have lived, red pops up in vastly different memories. From glowing cheeks and warmth, to danger and destruction. Maybe you remember that red sweater someone you liked was wearing, red hair, strawberries, your heart red of love but also the fiery angriness, fights, your nose bloody, things you might have said and regret - they can all be red.
I used to be afraid of the colour red, to use it in my paintings. I was doing it but only little bits and pieces and I would balance it out with heaps of yellow or blue. Until the moment came it was time to face the things I was fearing in my work. Or perhaps some things I was fearing in myself. By letting it out at first it seemed like it was only multiplying, becoming only more and more, a mountain - until recently, a softening emerged. My red becoming softer, more grounded.
I love how painterly your work is; I couldn’t tell if you were using brushes or your hand or something totally random? How do you achieve all your wonderful marks?
Nothing special really, just brushes and sticks.
My way of seeing the mark-making of an artist is like their hands creating love. The love in essence is always the same but the hand that it flows through is different with each person. That is what makes painting/art so beautiful. Up to some level you are in control of your mark-making but a certain core of it is just what it is and comes with the being that you are.
I was also curious about the scratching elements that emerge from behind the paint. Does a piece start with a lot of drawing?
It does but not in a way of starting with a sketch. I always start working immediately on the canvas. The entirety of the process is happening on the canvas itself. The composition could at any time get disrupted by a wrong mark. Starting a work, I usually make the canvas dirty and add life to it, often with scratches and smudges but not always. A purely white gessoed canvas feels un-alive, there is nothing to respond to. That is also why I find it important to keep the natural fabric visible. I want all layers and moments to be there, for one to unravel when in front of the work. Everything there, visible. In a way there are no mysteries - but the work is not only materials, techniques and appliance of paint. There is more.
It was interesting to read that one of your pieces was inspired by the colour palette in a George Condo painting. I wouldn’t have connected your work with his. Do you look at a lot of painting, and are there other unlikely influences?
There is always a looking, a filling of the consciousness. I think it is important to know what has been done and what is happening. Still I would not say I look at a lot of painting, especially not during the painting process.
I do a lot of listening though, to music. That is a big drive for me, also in club and concert settings. A few of my friends make music and my family too, all musicians. I don't know too much about music though, I just love it and feel it and am content with this as my understanding of it. The knowing in feeling is enough for me. While listening, dance is my natural response and smiles too. When the music is good my face simply becomes one big smile, nothing to do against that haha.
In the studio the dance gets transferred onto the canvas. However, it is not music that is my objective, that is truth maybe. Like, what would be left of us without our human form? But not as a concept, you know? It has to be free. It’s a kind of investigating and getting to know the spiritual being that we all are, together. Just like music, you can feel it in the entirety of your body, even though it is without a body. A lot of truth can be found in music and sound, in silence too though. I love that as well.
Some of your paintings look really tall - what do you love about working so big?
Big surfaces have so much space for all the gestures and marks to evolve and to respond to each other. It becomes a story. With large format - at least for me - it is easier to touch something that goes beyond, getting closer to the eternal.
But it holds a certain contradiction because wow, so much material is needed to obtain that through painting! Maybe painting big is similar to building a temple. You could simply sit somewhere under a simple roof, no temple is needed but the temple has more appeal. It is easier to feel connected in such a place. So painting big is just a tool for connection.
With such ambitious work, do you ever struggle in the studio? Is there ever a point where you need to move on or abandon a piece?
Very often, honestly. Without making sketches there is no way around regular failure. In the beginning it hurt quite a bit, having to chuck out a work that has all these beautiful pigments on it, the cotton or linen that was carefully grown, the hours spent. It is inevitably part of the creative process. Usually I save as much as possible by cutting out canvas for smaller works or use it for cloth to clean brushes with. The struggle is part of the fun. It makes the moments it works out more special.
Follow Lotte on Instagram: @lotte.wieringa
Things on Our Radar This Week
Plaster have a new podcast featuring Pam Evelyn this week
White Cube did an enviable studio visit with Ilana Savdie
The Best Painting Shows in London This Month
Chris Dorland at Nicoletti (ends 24 May)
Rose Wylie at David Zwirner (ends 23 May)
Oliver Lee Jackson at Lisson (ends 17 May)
‘Handful of Dust’ group show at Palmer Gallery (ends 14 June)
Kentaro Okumara at Vardaxoglou Gallery (ends 17 May)
Thanks for reading, see you next time!
Oliver & Kezia xx
Palette Talk is free and we hope to grow with your support. If you’ve enjoyed reading, drop us a donation via PayPal…