Artist: Nadia Naveau
Exhibition title: Funny Five Minutes
Venue: Base-Alpha, Antwerp, Belgium
Date: September 15 – October 28, 2018
Photography: We Document Art, all images copyright and courtesy of the artist and Base-Alpha, Antwerp
An imploding form seems to ask for a heavy figure that will lie on it. A table leg becomes a human leg and a nose, a foot becomes a leg, a hand a hat. Elements of earlier works articulate in different constellations in space, and as a result they are occurring differently during the course of the visit. “This time it has no head” and “that’s that paw again”. In part, the sculptures assemble and transform themselves through their material properties. And when she does not know what to do, the expression “to be goofing around” – for her fluid logic – becomes enough to model Goofy with care.
By inserting clay into that enormous Goofy mold, all sorts of new prints arise, which playfully find their place; because the table is shaky, she accidently hits the sculpture herself, or because the wet clay is caving in. And the clay certainly sets its own conditions. At one point there is no dispute with the ‘thing’ in formation; it reveals itself in a brief moment of sudden understanding, and to that airy absurd “funny five minutes” of renewed attention, the show received its title.
As Òlafur Elìasson expresses, ” We believe in thinking doing, in the active imagination as an agent in the world, in shaping and being shaped by the world, in causing the world to wobble differently, depending on where we stand.” In this exhibition of Nadia Naveau, every movement in space is reflected in silver, copper and brass elements. Mirroring and shining, they emphasize the exterior of a sculpture, while other metal plates fold into themselves and emerge perfectly from under a shell – the mold. Her multi-part plinths interweave with the work in an undecipherable way. Nadia cuts form from art history and Millet jackets. The sculptures are subject, construction and the starting point for every reasoning in the process.
– Céline Mathieu