Where now? When now? Who now? Without asking myself. To say ‘I’. Without thinking.
To call these questions, hypotheses. To go on, to call this ‘going’, to call this ‘on’.
Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable

(1) A granary with a painted design. Two mirror-image triangles on each side, four on the front, where the door is. The vertical side of each triangle is determined by the height of the granary, and the vertex where one (almost) touches the other, by half the length of the granary. There are four at the front, because triangles also emerge from the door—as a visible structural element—(it is not a dead centre; if that were the case, I imagine there would only be two).

(2) Work on the ground-floor terrace. The tiles are cut diagonally: this is an expansion joint or a slope running from each corner of the terrace to a drain situated almost in the centre. Viewed from above, the design forms two mirror-image triangles or an X.

(3) Visible auxiliary brick structure. A small structure, most likely built by the owner himself. The brickwork is visible, and there are areas where the courses curve, shaped by the contour of the ground. On one side, there are nine small windows or vents. The opening (without glass) is formed by the gap left when two bricks are placed in an inverted V shape on top of another, forming a triangle.

(1,2,3) (As far as the measurement extends). These instances of triangular intervention form the basis of a series of works that, from the outset, take on the function of transposition. A repeated triangle, then a rhombus, then a grid. One side is the height of the picture. Another side reaches almost to its centre. But soon the same thing happens on a scrap of sandpaper, on an image, on a board. The triangles change size according to this architecture. Their height, their centre: they are then transferred to other surfaces where they are repeated, like a row of bricks. From there, a gap opens up, and if one looks through it, one sees what the triangulation of the sides reveals; the rest remains outside (visible elsewhere). It is not that all the paintings stem from the same motif; rather, they are part of the same movement that extends and retracts the height, width and centre of themselves and of the others within themselves. They carry within them the actual measurements of the workshop’s fragmented architecture, both as a support and as an object, down to the millimetre. Triangles in combination, expanded and expandable, in the manner of joints: structures for and within movement. When now, like a joint, it becomes part of an inseparable movement. Between what is done and what will be done to us, hypothetically, simultaneously. [/vc_column_text]