Blog 4 // Countering visuality? Radio as a medium in artistic practices addressing the issue of political resistance. The examples of Katarzyna Krakowiak and Radio Earth Hold.

This post is part of the series ‘Thesis Highlights‘ in which recently graduated master students affiliated with LGC are invited to give a short insight into their research. This posting is by LGC researcher Marta Maria Wódz.

At first glance, radio may seem to be an example of dated technology, overturned by other, newer media. However, multiple artistic projects created during the last two decades seem to indicate the opposite: the upsurge of radio-related artworks or initiatives in both: grassroots artistic practices and projects carried out under the auspices of the biggest institutions (the examples from the Polish art-scene are Radio Kapitał [Capital] hosted by Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw or the series of audio programs Out Of Office as a part of Plac Małachowskiego 3 by Zachęta National Gallery of Art – both projects launched in summer 2019).


Why, out of all possible forms, do contemporary artists choose radio as a tool, medium or a way of presentation for a particular project? In what kind of context does it appear? To put it shortly, I was interested in radio in arts, rather than art in radio (radio art). For that reason I find useful the term transmission arts coined in the end of the 1990s by Wave Farm – a collective originating from New York which later developed into a bigger organization. By placing wireless transmission in the center of interest, it can broaden the notion of radio art and embrace a much wider spectrum of artistic practices not necessarily (or maybe even not at all?) happening inside a broadcasting studio, but including installations, live performances, etc.


In his manifesto The Radio of the Future, futurist Valimir Khlebnikov envisioned the transmissions of image and text alongside with sensations such as scents or flavors. In the first two chapters I have paid close attention to the history of radio, its use and social reception in its early stages also in relation to the development of science and technology: for example so-called ‘radio sense’ was a popular belief in the beginning of 20th century that some people can receive radio waves directly via their brains. Even if such ideas may now seem somewhat amusing, in the 1920s, described by Flora Lysen as the “early 20th century world of fuzzy boundaries between mind and media,” the existing imagery of over-encompassing, invisible oscillations which were already materialized in laboratories as epistemic things could render even surprisingly peculiar ideas as entirely plausible.

Radio artists, BPS, Jerusalem, between 1936 and 1946, Matson Photo Service, Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, LC-DIG-matpc-14319, repository: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington D.C. 20540 USA.


In my thesis, I am especially interested in radio as a tool used in artistic projects addressing issues connected to the civil disobedience or resistance – its potentially emancipating capacity to transgress borders and physical, architectonic barriers, contrasted with its history as a powerful propaganda tool. What I find fascinating is this self-contradictory tension between radio as a fundamentally state-controlled medium with broadcasts aimed for particular countries separately and its intrinsic impossibility to fit into dimensions demarcated by the national borders. Can radio, especially when understood as prehistoric, all-encompassing, natural phenomenon, become a counter-force to visuality or a response to the pictorial turn described by W.J.T Mitchell?

Radio masts, Ramallah, between 1934 and 1939, photo taken by American Colony (Jerusalem), Photo Department, G. Eric and Edith Matson Photograph Collection, repository: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington.


Although throughout the course of the text I refer to many other artworks, as the core examples I have chosen the projects by Katarzyna Krakowiak and Radio Earth Hold because rather than presenting finished products, the solutions they introduce are opening up a wide mesh of further possibilities. They touch upon political topics in a way that can profoundly challenge our thinking and encourage to reexamine not only the role of radio, but also the transmission and communication in or via art – perhaps in this sense they can be understood as a form of countervisuality.

Radio Earth Hold, Source: https://racheldedman.com/Radio-Earth-Hold © Rachel Dedman


Historically speaking, radio (understood as technology) has always been influenced by plenty of external factors such as weather and closely connected to the presence of the listener who can adjust the antenna to receive a better quality signal. But what happens when, as in case of Katarzyna Krakowiak’s works, these two become one and the artist both metaphorically and physically turns into a part of the device via which the signal is broadcasted? The analysis of her works The Human Antenna – Rozgłośnia Stocznia 94FM and Free Radio Jaffa constitutes the third chapter. By recreating the broadcasting station that used to operate in the Gdansk Shipyard, Krakowiak presented it as a tool of communication on the local level and has put forward the community-building or maybe even identity-building quality of radio. Her artistic strategies are based on hijacking or (as the artist herself calls it) borrowing radio frequencies to create space for the messages that often remain unheard. Especially in relation to the colonial history of radio in Palestine, Krakowiak’s Free Radio Jaffa emphasizes the emancipatory potential of the medium.

Katarzyna Krakowiak, Human Antena – Rozgłośnia Stocznia 94FM, 2011. © Katarzyna Krakowiak
Katarzyna Krakowiak, all.fm free radio jaffa, in collaboration with Ronen Eidelman, Israeli Center for Digital Art (Holon), Jaffa 2009. © Katarzyna Krakowiak


The fourth, last chapter revolves around the topic of the radio voice with its potential to become authoritarian as well as to create an intimate experience of listening. Both of these aspects are rendered apparent in the works of Radio Earth Hold collective created by Rachel Dedman, Lorde Selys and Arjuna Neuman. Their broadcast REH#1: The Colonial Voice balances between curatorial and artistic practices; it presents the outcomes of their research but also offers a conceptualization of the link between the Palestinian and the Native American political struggles combined with the concept of sonic solidarity. Their approach hinges on the phenomenon of natural radio and the idea of acousmatic sound – a sound without recognizable source, the disembodied voice of authority, often compared to the omnipotent voice of God. This voice appears in Radio Earth Hold’s research on history of radio in Palestine, both as a tool used by the colonizer and as incorporated in resistance practices.


In my interview with Dedman, she has put forward a quality which was rendered ostensibly visible during the COVID-19 lockdown: the fact that radio can provide an alternative in response to the endless online activities eventually causing a “push-back reaction” or an answer for “a need for something more physically constructed.” Paradoxically, even if transmitted digitally, radio can create the feeling of presence that is more real or unmediated than other media. To describe this phenomenon, the choice of vocabulary becomes difficult – almost all the adjectives could be used between quotation marks since we know that digital radio is not really real, unmediated or materially present but it sells an illusion, as if it was. According to Dedman, radio “evades a sleek proliferation of the digital as a format of form.” In this case, I also understand ‘the digital’ as a category encompassing everything that gives an impression of being digital, rather than a strictly technical term. With its innate intimacy as if the voice was addressing the listener directly, radio can hide perfectly well the fact that it also functions in the digital space. Perhaps in this sense, the need for a more direct connection (in art, but not only) woken up by the pandemic circumstances, can in a longer run prepare the ground for the sonic turn to happen.

Supervisor at KU Leuven: prof. dr. Hilde Van Gelder, Art History
Supervisor at University of Warsaw: dr. hab. Marcin Lachowski, Institute of Art History
Tutor at University of Warsaw: dr. Łukasz Zaremba, Institute of Polish Culture

Blog 3 // Exhibition: ALLAN SEKULA. Mermaid Honeymoon. A Curatorial Reflection on Allan Sekula’s “Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum” (2010–2013)

The research exhibition Mermaid Honeymoon. A Curatorial Reflection on Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013) curated by Anja Isabel Schneider, shows a selection of objects and photographs from Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013), the unfinished last project of American artist, activist, photographer, and writer Allan Sekula. It forms one of the concluding outcomes of a PhD in Curatorial Research, as part of the research project Art Against the Grain of “Collective Sisyphus”: The Case of Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013), jointly developed by M HKA and the Lieven Gevaert Centre at KU Leuven and UCLouvain, with professor Hilde Van Gelder as promotor. 

In her exhibition, which goes accompanied by a written dissertation, Schneider brings to the surface the underlying subtext of Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum through a speculative reading of the mermaid/siren theme within the project as linked to one of Sekula’s other great sources of inspiration: the dockworker. The title Mermaid Honeymoon not only refers to a dominant graphic included in the exhibition; it also references a theory by the Hungarian psychoanalyst Sándor Ferenczi, which is based on ‘uterine and thalassal regression’. Ferenczi used the attraction of the sea as a metaphor for the human wish of procreative renewal, which for Sekula stands for the relationship between the mermaid and the seaman.  

Installation view of the research exhibition Mermaid Honeymoon – A Curatorial Reflection on Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013), M HKA, Antwerp, 2020, curated by Anja Isabel Schneider. Collection M HKA, Antwerp / Collection Flemish Community. © Photo: M HKA, Christine Clinckx.

Ship of Fools forms a series of slides and photographs mostly taken by the artist during his travels aboard the activist ship the Global Mariner (1998–2000), a cargo vessel with an exhibition in its hold, campaigning against the exploitation of seafaring workers’ rights, and demanding social justice at sea. In doing so, the Global Mariner functioned as a ‘good ship’ -as Sekula would say – that could form an example for all vessels. The Dockers’ Museum, on the other hand, is a collection of 1,245 artefacts or “objects of interest” as the artist called them, mostly purchased on eBay by Sekula himself. First of all, these objects serve as emblematic reminders of social struggles in and around the docks and, secondly, they illuminate the artist’s recognition of the dockworker as the archetype of all workers around the world, due to his intermediary existence between land and sea. While The Dockers’ Museum can be inscribed in the tradition of artists’ museums with a focus on collecting, it also calls our modern-day ‘archive fever’ into question, thus leaving room to be interpreted as an anti-museum and even anti-archive. 

Installation view of the research exhibition Mermaid Honeymoon – A Curatorial Reflection on Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013), M HKA, Antwerp, 2020, curated by Anja Isabel Schneider. Collection M HKA, Antwerp / Collection Flemish Community. © Photo: M HKA, Christine Clinckx.

Upon entry to the exhibition, one is immediately greeted by the striking juxtaposition of the double nature of Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum through the confrontation between Sekula’s photographic image of a ship’s wake titled Churn, hung next to the cartoon Mermaid Honeymoon (The Frenzy of Ferenczi), one of Sekula’s “objects of interest” that formed the departure point for Schneider’s curatorial research. Churn forms quite an accessible venture point for the exhibition through its visual language of almost kitschy Hollywood-likeness, which can only be understood as highly layered in relation to the rest of the exhibited photographs and objects, among which we find postcards, vintage photographs, and even a dried fish spreading a pungent sea-like smell. 

Sekula’s photographs not only depict his interest in the human figure of the dockworker, as is made clear by Schneider through the addition of the triptych on the ‘Engine Room Eyes’. Three pictures of boat engines, each framed precisely to make the meter resemble a Cyclops’s eye, are positioned on the opposite wall of the dockers’ portraits. The Cyclops may not be precisely the reference Sekula was aiming at while taking the pictures, his interest for myths and animals or objects with humane characteristics is crucial throughout his oeuvre. The ship holds thus more of an enigmatic function than that of a  a mere rational machine.  

Installation view of the research exhibition Mermaid Honeymoon – A Curatorial Reflection on Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013), M HKA, Antwerp, 2020, curated by Anja Isabel Schneider. Collection M HKA, Antwerp / Collection Flemish Community. © Photo: M HKA, Christine Clinckx.

Remarkable as well is the wave-like rhythm that Schneider manages to create in the exhibition space, while simultaneously keeping a balance between the selection of photographic images and objects that make up the two parts of Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum. This tension throughout the space is especially visible when one searches for the motif of the mermaid. In a speculative reading, one could start on the left side of the room with the siren-like quality of the displayed nautical foghorn, then moving – with some imagination – towards a skeletal interpretation of a mermaid’s upper body in the form of a chiropractor’s life size model of a human vertebrae, through to her tail (or two tails) displayed as an Ebi shrimp plastic sushi model, to be finally confronted on the right side of the space with a knitted toy representing a full-bodied mermaid. Just like the dockworker, the mermaid serves as a connective link between land and sea. By suggesting a greater symbiosis and opportunity for change, both figures represent hope and force towards the creation of solidarity, both for the individual and for society as a whole. 

The exhibition asks for an engaged and intuitive reading by its viewers, but for those willing to dive deeper than the surface, a vast and intricate cluster of meaning and layers comes within view, waiting to be discovered and reimagined. 

Installation view of the research exhibition Mermaid Honeymoon – A Curatorial Reflection on Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013), M HKA, Antwerp, 2020, curated by Anja Isabel Schneider. Collection M HKA, Antwerp / Collection Flemish Community. © Photo: M HKA, Christine Clinckx.

Anja Isabel Schneider’s dissertation is titled (Psychic) Subtext(s): A Curatorial Research Project on Allan Sekula’s Ship of Fools / The Dockers’ Museum (2010–2013).  Her defense will be on the 4th of September at KU Leuven.

The exhibition will be open until the 6th of September in M HKA (Leuvenstraat 32, 2000 Antwerpen). We hope to see you there!

Authors: Maria Victoria Bas en Clara Wouters

Blog 2 // Calais. Témoigner de la ‘jungle’ – the polyvalent echo of a social debate

This post is part of the series ‘Thesis Higlights‘ in which recently graduated master students affiliated with LGC are invited to give a short insight into their research. The first posting is by LGC intern Clara Wouters.

My master thesis focuses on the exhibition Calais. Témoigner de la ‘jungle’ which ran in the Centre Pompidou Paris during fall 2019. The infamously called ‘jungle’ in Calais started off with a temporary camp for (equally infamously named) ‘transitory migrants’ aiming to cross the Atlantic Ocean to the UK. Because of the slow and dangerous journey, the area quickly filled up to an amount of approximately 7000 inhabitants. The wild living conditions of the camp’s inhabitants created a very popular hot-spot for journalists. Pictures of sceneries in the camp were plentifully shared all over the world.

What makes this exhibition extraordinary, is the three-dimensional perspective on the sensitive social and political issue of (trans)migration. Curator Florian Ebner not only combined press pictures with the more reflective approach by artist Bruno Serralongue, but he also invited persons who were formerly on the move into the museum. The dynamic this creates is reinforced by a ‘conversation corner’ in which the debate is evoked between the different parties: a photojournalist, an AFP editor, art critics, Amnesty International lawyers, artist Bruno Serralongue, and former ‘jungle’ inhabitant and artist Alpha Diagne.


Bruno Serralongue, Agence France-Presse, Les Habitants [The Residents], Calais, témoigner de la Jungle [Calais, Witnessing the Jungle]. Installation view, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, 2019. © Bruno Serralongue.

My research paper is divided into three chapters aligning with the three photographical approaches and one chapter that focuses on the practical construction of the exhibition. The first chapter looks at the methodology used by big press companies such as Agence France Presse (AFP) to spread out visual information on news topics. For example, I take this internationally shared picture of an Iranian camp inhabitant who sewed his lips as a form of protesting against the lack of right of speech for refugees. (Fig. 1) According to the photographer, Philippe Huguen, this is a good press picture as it does not need so much explanation. The picture surely catches attention and provokes a craving for information, a craving on which the whole media system is build. AFP editor Olivier Morin points out that only these types of pictures make it to the world, despite thousands of other pictures coming in every day. The pressure put on photographers to create a large amount of ‘interesting’ or ‘dramatic’ pictures in a small amount of time is high, and it takes away the possibility to really think about the pictures they take and the consequences for the people depicted. Especially in the case of the migrants, an unlucky recognizable shot of their profile in the media during a confrontation with the police, for example, could ruin their already small chance of successfully completing their asylum procedure. Therefore, there is a lot of tension in the relation between the media and the migrants, and little trust.

(Fig. 1)
© Philippe Huguen, 2016. (Yohan Blavignat, “A Calais, les “bouches cousues” poursuivent leur grève de faim.” Le Figaro.)

Many authors have warned for the abuse of power that comes with holding a camera, especially when pointed to people in a weaker position than the operator. Allan Sekula cites Walter Benjamin, who considers it impossible to document humanity without any form of barbarism. (Allan Sekula, Dismantling Modernism, Reinventing Documentary, 1978) Susan Sontag compares the camera with a gun, John Berger the shutter button with the trigger of a gun. (Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others, 2004 ; John Berger, About Looking, 1980) Ariella Azoulay points her finger at the imperialistic (mis)use of the camera in the very beginning of photography. She argues that some kind of universal right to look at everyone and everything, commonly used as an excuse by the media, is a fraud. (Ariella Azoulay, Potential History: Unlearning Imperialism, 2019)

Bruno Serralongue, Agence France-Presse, Les Habitants [The Residents], Calais, témoigner de la Jungle [Calais, Witnessing the Jungle]. Installation view, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, 2019. © Bruno Serralongue.

Artist Bruno Serralongue is very aware of what he calls ‘the crisis in photojournalism’ and seeks for alternative ways to visualize the same sensitive news topics. Focusing rather on non-spectacular situations and non-events, he leaves behind the glorious ‘moment décisif’ of the photojournalist. He also undermines the race in speed by using a large format analogue camera. Because this method is not directly meant as critique on photojournalism, but more as an attempt to create more sustainable and humane alternatives, I build on the work of my supervisor Hilde Van Gelder in order to argue that the term ‘counter-photojournalism’ is more adequate than Allan Sekula’s ‘anti-photojournalism’. (Hilde Van Gelder, “Artistic ‘Non-Compliance’ with the Protocol Rules of Photojournalism” in Depth of Field, 2014 ; Allan Sekula, Waiting for Teargas, 2001) A good example is this picture of a charging point in the Calais camp. (Fig. 2) There is no action, and without any given context one could assume these men were at a festival charging their phones in between two concerts. But the somewhat clumsy fits of their jackets and the way the men are huddled in into the warmth of the coats spreads a feeling of hopelessness, of a lifetime of waiting. The phones are their only connection to relatives, who they either left behind or are waiting for them. It is their only insight into what is happening in the world and what governments are deciding on them. Because of the slow method of the analogue camera, Serralongue is obliged to start a conversation with his subjects, and ask them for their cooperation; in this way he also gains their trust.

Serralongue’s approach fits under the meta-critical way of documenting that is advocated by Allan Sekula. Requirements for the documentary maker therefore are (i) questioning the subject and provoking a dialogue, (ii) being aware of the expectation of truth that comes with the medium and not abusing it, (iii) questioning the representation itself. Serralongue is not the only contemporary artist concerned with classic ‘taxidermic’ representation in the documentary genre or photojournalism. In 2019, four Belgian artists signed the ‘Manifesto of the School for Speculative Documentary’ with which they aim to open a collective of artists actively trying to question representation and truth claims in documentary throughout their oeuvre. You can find more information about the activities of An Van Dienderen, Thomas Bellinck, Michiel Decleene en Max Pinckers on their collective website.

(Fig. 2)
Bruno Serralongue, Station des recharges des téléphones, “bidonville d’État” pour migrants, Calais, novembre 3th 2015, from the series Calais (2006-2018). © Bruno Serralongue.

In the third chapter I focus on the way in which the curators included the camp inhabitants themselves in the exhibition. They reached out to three organisations building bridges between the camp and the real world. Firstly, Art Refuge UK tries to give mental support to people on the move through art therapy and participative workshops. Secondly, Jungle Eye focuses on the accessibility of photography and art in the camp. They went around in the camp and asked for the photographs which the inhabitants took of their life there. This resulted in the series titled ‘Souvenirs from a nightmare’. (Fig. 3) The third organisation is called Agency of Artists in Exile (AAE) and offers professional equipment and administrational progress to artists on the move. For example, Alpha Diagne, who claims to be one of the first inhabitants of the Calais camp. He constructed a blue house on a little hill to create an atelier space for himself, but also to form a central space in the camp to promote friendships and social activities. The exhibition visitors can watch the short film ‘La Maison Bleue sur la Colline’, shot by AAE filmmaker Fadi Idris. It is interesting to remark that the images of Diagne in his atelier are accompanied by a voice-over of his own voice. It is possible that Idris did an attempt to be as neutral as possible in his role as filmmaker. Although the editing of the shots always brings out a style or interpretation of the filmmaker, the voice-over gives a very personal touch coming directly from the subject. Idris intentionally left behind an external journalist explanation in National Geographic style, keeping in mind the taxidermic structure this would create.

(Fig. 3)
Bruno Serralongue, Agence France-Presse, Les Habitants [The Residents], Calais, témoigner de la Jungle [Calais, Witnessing the Jungle]. Installation view, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, 2019. © Bruno Serralongue.

In the last chapter of my thesis I focus on curator Florian Ebner’s intention with bringing this issue into the national, powerful museum of Centre Pompidou. Questioning the role the museum in general can play in social and political debates, I turned to Bruno Serralongue, who worked closely with Florian Ebner on this exhibition. He explained to me that biggest reason why this kind of participative exhibition was even possible is because of director Bernard Blistène, who believes that a museum should be ‘a chamber of echoes for our society’. The free admission exhibition took place in the Galleries de Photographie which is located in the basement of the museum. The atmosphere of this space is entirely different from the international and expensive exhibitions on the higher floors. Serralongue remarks: “This reminds of the hierarchical situation in society but also in the museum: the big names are at the top floors and you have to pay to see them. The usual question of reciprocity (f.e. exposure for the artists) was not accurate in the exhibition about Calais. They worked together with the artists and the camp inhabitants for the exhibition public. Everyone got their chance to tell an individual story via the conversations planned in the opening week of the exhibition. The migrants were not shown as victims, but as active people in our society.” As this thesis shows, the exhibition has succeeded in opening the debate on this subject. The multiplicity of perspectives has proven that a museum can be also a participatory space, open for every layer of the society. But in order to break the classic hierarchical structure and to bring this kind of exhibition to a higher floor, there is still a long way to go.

Blog 1 // They Say She Was – Artist Conversation with Erien Withouck

Image from the slide sequence ‘Selkie’ (2020), © Erien Withouck

This weekend will be the last chance to visit the exhibition “they say she was” at CAS, Ostend. In an old building located in the popular Belgian coastal town, artist Erien Withouck shows us the power of storytelling and oral history. “they say she was” portrays two stories of female characters: one from the Shetland Islands in Scotland and one from Ostend – Selkie and Miete Delanghe –, and each story is approached in a particular way. It is not surprising that the central medium remains photography, as Withouck is schooled in photography. The eye-catcher of the exhibition and also the cover photo, is a large black and white picture of Shedlandic waves. Withouck’s interest in the oral transmission of history is reflected in her use of headphones in the installation. These connect you directly to the voices of eight different women telling the Selkie story in their strong Shetlandic dialect. As you are listening to the varieties of the story of the Selkie Wife, you are also invited to watch a slide show with photographs of Shetland contemporary life. The second mythological character highlighted in Withouck’s exhibition, brings us close to the history of Ostend and its fishery. Miete Delanghe was, according to the fishermen, a witch who cursed them when they refused to give her fish. One of the stories about Delanghe is brought to you through an installation of posters at the gallery and the fishery docks.

Professor Hilde Van Gelder (HVG) and intern Clara Wouters (CW) sat down with artist Erien Withouck (EW) to talk about her interest in oral history, which led to this project.

CW: For this project, you went all the way to the Shetland Islands to discover the oral culture and in particular the myth of the Selkie. How does this project about mythology relate to your artistic interest throughout the years?

EW: My artistic projects always depart from material that I find, which can be either photography or archive documents. For this project about the Selkie story I decided to start from oral history, which is still very much alive on the Shetland Islands. It surprised me to see the amount of stories still travelling around there.

CW: As you are living and working in Belgium, how did you stumble upon this story in the Shetland Islands?

EW: I have travelled to the Islands before and I found it remarkable how isolated the people live there. In the past, this community lived off fishery industry. Men often went out to sea to fish and because this used to be very risky, there were numerous widowed women living on the islands. Women predominantly ran the community, which means that the history of the islands was transmitted through their voices. Focusing on the stories told by them brings out a female presence in history. This in particular is what attracted me to Sheltand in the first place. Also, storytelling is quite common there, more than in Belgium, so there it is not very hard to find stories like this one.

CW: The fact that the story is told by a female artist is also really important. Is this female point of view a common perspective in your artistic research?

EW: Yes. But it stands out the most in this project.

HVG: Your Belgian background together with the coastal theme of your project brings you to this exhibition space in Ostend. Can you explain how you translated the Selkie tradition into the Belgian context? And why did you choose the title “they say she was”? What does it mean?

EW: Maybe it is good to answer your last question first. I initially exhibited the Selkie project in Leuven (Ithaka #28, 2020). I wanted to show the project in Ostend for the obvious coastal link. But for this exhibition in CAS I wanted to add something which also put Ostend history into the picture. It was a bit harder to find vernacular history in Belgium than it was in Shetland. I think this is because the storytelling culture is less alive here. But nevertheless, after some research, I found the many stories of Miete Delanghe who was said to be a witch. As I got more informed about her, I kept in mind how this extra project would take form within the already existing exhibition. This is the point where the title “they say she was” came to me, as it can be applied to both stories. In addition, it includes also a reference to storytelling and oral culture itself and refers to the female perspective. By using the verb “was”, the meaning of the sentence can be purely existential, or one could easily add an adjective. I really wanted to bring Miete Delanghe’s story back to life here in Ostend, and this is why you will discover that the poster is not only hanging inside the exhibition space, but also on the docks of Ostend. The connection between the outside and the inside world is important for this project.

Installation view of the project Miete Delanghe (2020) at the fishery docks in Ostend,
© Erien Withouck

HVG: So the Selkie figure and the Miete Delanghe myth become slightly conflated in the exhibition.

EW: Yes they do. Because I think they have a lot in common. They are both strong and independent figures. The Selkie tale shows a more positive representation of a woman while Miete Delanghe was seen as a poor old witch, which says a lot about how women were presented in the past in these different coastal regions. Through studying these stories, I hope to present another perspective on the history of these two places.

Installation view of the exhibition they say she was (2020) at CAS, Ostend, © Erien Withouck

CW: You chose to highlight the oral transmission through adding hanging headphones to the exhibition space. They connect the visitor with Scottish women who each tell the story a little bit differently. Can you tell us more about this?

EW: What interests me in the idea of oral history is that it is not fixed, unlike writing or photography. It is always changing depending on the context. Every teller will insert their own nuance into the stories. Instead of portraying one single version of the story, I asked several women to tell it their way. In this way, the ephemeral character of these tales is emphasized. On another level, I am very interested in the way that oral culture gives a different perspective on history than the more dominant written texts, which are very fixed and dependent on authority.

CW: Written history is nonetheless easier to study, you just have to look them up in a library. But what is the methodology that you use for your research on vernacular, more ephemeral history?

EW: For the Selkie story, I did an open call on the Shetland radio for people who could tell me anything about Selkies. This was one way to get information, but another was simply to get around and drink tea together with the female inhabitants of the island. This way I not only learned a lot about the history of the island but also about the personalities of the people who live there. It was a really nice experience. In Ostend, it was different. Because of the lockdown situation, I wasn’t able to talk to people the way I did in Shetland. But there are resources and databanks for these kind of stories in Belgium, which is how I discovered Miete Delanghe.

HVG: But to get to know everything about Miete Delanghe, people should visit the exhibition of course. And you continue to look around for locals who can add elements to the story from their personal recollection. Is there something like a local radio in Ostend?

EW: There is, indeed. I’m still planning on contacting them. I’m also planning on collecting more of these types of stories. I already found some other interesting women who were said to be witches. This is definitely only the beginning of a much larger project, which will focus more on Belgian characters, starting with tales from Ostend.

CW: In the exhibition, you approach the subject through different media. Primarily there is photography, then you have the audio files with the interviews, and then you add a dictionary for a better understanding of the Shetland dialect. How did you come up with this multidimensional approach?

EW: For me, the photography in the exhibition stands for the present version of what the island looks like today. The voices, on the other hand, are a way to break this temporality and go back to history. So, the combination of the photos and the voices works as a link between the present and the past. Listening to the voices while watching the photographs creates an opportunity to make up your own version of the story. It is a way of speaking beyond the visual element. Similarly, the installation of the posters of Miete Delanghe transport the past stories into a present context.  

CW: The aspect of the dialect is also typical for these oral cultures, and this aspect is fading in our modern society. In this sense, it is interesting to bring it back together with the more personal side of history.

EW: Yes, language says a lot about history. For example, the language in Shetland is derived from Scottish, but the island was also colonized by Vikings at one point, which is why they also use some Norse words. So, in this dialect you can already read a lot about the past of the islands.  

Installation view of the exhibition they say she was (2020) at CAS, Ostend, © Erien Withouck

CW: Entering the exhibition, one big black and white picture directly attracts the attention of the visitor. Why did you choose to bring the focus to this image of the sea?

EW: Firstly, it had a lot to do with the space itself. CAS is located close to the sea and when you enter the space the sea directly looks back at you. The sea is for me a place of reflection, of travelling, it is a departure point but also a resting point. This is the image that comes to my mind when thinking about the stories. I wanted to bring this space of reflection into the exhibition.

CW: For me it also brings out a big contrast between the black and whiteness and the colour in the other pictures.

EW: Well, the colours of the coloured pictures have this coldness, blueness. This reflects the isolation of the island, but it also refers to the elements of wind and sea, which are very present there. I chose to print the big picture of the sea in black and white because it adds this notion of timelessness. Whereas the coloured pictures are not as timeless because they include very contemporary elements.

CW: To me, the black and white print of the sea looked very alive. I had to take a moment or two to realize that there really was no colour in the photograph. Depending on the way I looked, a green or blue shade would appear.

HVG: It is interesting that you say that because my initial impression was the other way around. Looking at the sequence of the pictures on the wall, I had to constantly convince myself that this was colour photography. You see the colours, but there’s something really airy and thin about their atmosphere, as if the colours are about to fade away. That adds tremendously to their enigma. This aspect is probably the most visible in the last picture on the wall, a picture in which you look through a window at the sea. This one is almost a black and white photograph, and it is very nice how exactly that picture makes the transition to the large black and white print. The visual narration builds up very well, and offers a fascinating prelude to the multi-medial installation in the adjacent room.

Installation view of the exhibition they say she was (2020) at CAS, Ostend,
© Erien Withouck

The exhibition will be open until the 26th of July in CAS. It is open on weekends from 14:00-18:00 at Frans Musinstraat 19, 8400, Ostend. The artist will be present on the 25th and the 26th of July. We hope to see you there!

For more projects by Erien Withouck, please visit her website.

Welcome

Welcome to the brand new blog introduced to you by Lieven Gevaert Research Centre for Photography, Art and Visual Culture. On this blog we aim to highlight the current projects of our fellows, bring out interesting interviews and give you an extra insight into the events hosted by the research group. We are very excited and we hope you are too!