PRESS RELEASE

 Pile-dwelling

30 january – 14 march 2009

Two years ago, Jan de Pooter built a boat. Not a boat for sailing, but for observing. Not a fantasy boat adorned with assorted Disneyesque trimmings, but as basic as can be. A sombre, black affair, with as much on-board equipment and comfort as Panamarenko’s ' Scotch Gambit' speedboat, that is to say nothing, zero, nil and nada.

The following year, at the invitation of the Zuiderzeemuseum in Enkhuizen, The Netherlands, Jan De Pooter truly entered the water. To this end he didn’t use a boat, but a floating pontoon, a raft bobbing around the Ijsselmeer. Aboard this raft were to be found three urinals, giving the pontoon its name: the Raft of Vespasianus. This Roman emperor happens to be associated with the public toilet. He did what he could to replenish the treasury emptied by Nero. On virtually every street corner of ancient Rome were placed earthen jars that served as urinals. These were emptied each evening by wool- and leather workmen, who used the urine as a cleanser. For the use of this “public” urine, Vespasianus obliged them to pay taxes. Many centuries later, the people of Paris would dub their public toilets ‘vespasiennes.’

Despite this, a visit to De Pooter’s Raft of Vespacianus won’t cost you a cent.  However, in order to get there you’d better be able to swim, and the urine you let loose after this healthy exercise will simply go straight into the lake. What could be more absurd? This pre-eminently Belgian work of art demonstrates how to make something difficult that could just as well have been done simply.

 The latest of Jan De Pooter’s works demonstrates clear continuity with his previous efforts. In the gallery he has built an impressive pier or gangway, leading upwards towards some sort of pile dwelling. There isn’t any water, although it’s suggested by the rising structure of bollards and the pile dwelling itself. The pier continues past the pile dwelling, descending and connecting to the entrance of the cellar staircase. If you do not wish to go down to the basement, you are obliged to retrace your steps.

In the cellar itself is an exhibition from another of the gallery artists, so you can also interpret this pier as a complex route to the second exhibition – via a detour which itself is a work of art. It’s as if the cellar exhibition has obtained a special entry or preamble enhancing its lustre, and from such a perspective this otherwise impressive work by De Pooter obtains a certain modesty.

From the foot bridge, the viewer can gaze down upon the visitors below. But he can also take shelter in the pile dwelling, containing, as it does, a sense of safety and security. Here one finds a few hanging light boxes with photos of touristic hotels, their kitsch luxuriousness standing in stark contrast to their surroundings. Apart from this, the dwelling is bare and basic. As in his previous works, De Pooter strives to reduce the level of realism.  Details that could have given the dwelling a sense of character or hominess are noticeably absent. It has the appearance of a hastily built construction, just enough to serve its purpose. This seems to reflect De Pooter’s fascination with those chain-link barriers and other dockyard structures that spring up without warning, disrupting one’s ordinary, safe routine. Suddenly, the stroller is obliged to pick his way through puddles and muddy paths, delineated only by some slippery boards, past unstable barriers and fence posts remaining only for an undetermined period of time. Despairing shop keepers post their clear-plastic-covered, photocopied messages: “DANNY’S SANDWICHES WILL REMAIN OPEN!!!” Such a perversion of the useful condition is also typically Belgian, where foremen and construction workers demonstrate a noticeable nonchalance regarding safety and security. Their improvised constructions are often evidence of a practical minimalism: if something remains standing or hanging with only two supports, why use four or six? Jan De Pooter’s work betrays sympathy for this good-natured self reliance, and for the semi-anarchistic and not infrequently humorous situations that result. As with all of Jan De Pooter’s works, 'Pile-dwelling' started life as a beautifully worked out maquette.    

Text by Paul Ilegems (Antwerp, january 2009). Translation to English by Michael Laird