Details on the Art of not Making Art

Reconfiguration in Philip Janssen's "No Title" and "Untitled" Works






O. Rynell Cash


Philip Janssens is primarily a maker of materials related to sculptural notions and

fragments. His works seem to manifest exactly these concerns through production, form,

punctuated space and strategy by exploring visual concepts that re-sequence the

perception/s of the viewer. This allows installations of his works to become the primary

signifier to understand these imposed sequences. For Janssens, this notion of

reconfiguration is always interesting as a code of communication to reveal the formal

qualities of his (current) materials: light, currency, glass, paper, colour.


This article addresses selected works from Janssens series of "No Title" or "Untitled"

works. These works are based on activities with determined/undetermined outcomes or

construction within a space to convey associations that relate to contradictions. When

Janssens work is displayed it becomes a vehicle of negotiation on ideas of conceptualism

and the politics of art. The political context adheres in a manner that each "No Title" or

"Untitled" work is just essentially one work that expands yet is viewed as an individual

piece or part of the everyday. These works are faceted construction at times dense, or

loose and insignificant depending upon the presentation.


For example, the re-configurations of Janssens "Untitled (powder)", 2013 is made from a

process of crushing ordinary glass and mother of pearl to create an "object" that is lighter

than air. In conversations with Janssens about the work he stated that his intention was

not to make an artwork but to make a material that offers itself for discussion in various

forms. Much like Bas Jan Ader's series of "Falls" made between 1970-1972 (if we include

Ader's "The Boy Who Fell Over Niagara Falls"; 1972 in this context) where Ader created

situations that inserted himself by conquest and the repetition of form, back into the

surrounds of the public and nature, Janssens brings together common parts of the

everyday to create fragments of each work that are poised and in the end made coherent.


Current works related to this on-going project are: Untitled (powder-multiple); 2014, which

is a limited edition of the powder incased in a brass tin, and "Miscellaneous"; 2013 - two

digital photographs of the Janssens throwing some of the powder in the air and taking the

photographs both in light and dark situations to demonstrate the materials ability to shine.

There's a since of play to seduce you to the aspects of each of the additional works.

Although not an official "Untiled" work "Miscellaneous" further examines details within

Janssen's concepts. The photographs are a description of the "Untitled" (powder)

'sampled' from the original work – which captures additional part of the its possibilities.

Even the title "Miscellaneous" speaks to the ability to rethink the work.


Two works "No Title"; 2013 are exactly the same and are only separated by dimensions

but related by a sense of pattern. The work/s consists of vitrines with a white base that

functions as a internal light source. It is equipped with neon lights and two high speed

stroboscopes. The base is covered by highly reflective glass. "No Title", (120x80x50);

2013 is linear and directs the light source as the idea of a landscape or horizon and "No

Title" (180x80x50); 2013 is an object of light and to be viewed as such whereas

120x80x50 is to be observed for its use of light. Both are examples of immateriality – the

shimmer of reflection and light as an example to the possibilities of form.


Similarly and arguably as exquisite with light is the ongoing and limited edition "Untitled

(poster)", 2014 that combines the materiality of raw paper, silver leaf and a reflective

coating. A very time consuming process of production the work comes again in two forms.

The first which is an ongoing take-away version that is made in arrangement with a

printing company for continued production, relating to the eternal factors in the work. The

second version is a limited edition with an additional coating that gives an illusion of the

flow of primary and secondary colours.


The reverse-side of the poster has a text by artist Douglas Parks who give a reflection on

ideas in Janssens work. Part of the text by Parks reads "Joined-together eternal sheets

divide equally." Although the text was written before the production of "Untitled (poster)" it

speaks to how the subject's relationship to the poster and how text can alter meaning in an

object. The image changed dramatically by redoing it. There is a different context and a

challenge to the notion of originality of the work.


Janssens also defies the preciousness of art by using materials at hand and related to

exchange such as with "No Title"; This project described by the artist as "Coins are

stamped with the word ‘ALPENLAND’ to get small round mark(ings`). Shown randomly on

a gallery floor but mostly distributed by spending them, throwing them away randomly and

visiting to church on Sunday." Also, there is no date applied to "No Title" nor is there any

indication to the objects being coins. By using altered currency to create multiple readymade

objects Janssens give new context to currency, banality in the since of this common

bartering tool. When I asked Janssens why the word ALPENLAND is applied to this project

Janssen's replied by " Back then I used ALPENLAND a lot. As a title for shows and so

forth - I actually forgot why -And I kind of like it, that I have forgotten why." The reward in

the work/s for him is the possibility of distribution and connections that generally are

unknown to the artist. It's a far stretch to compare a work like "No Title" to ancient text that

can't be deciphered, but in context this is work with a random forgotten meaning that is

distributed for those who encounter them in the future to develop their own meaning or just

see it as an odd occurrence in their everyday life.


These extrusions into material practices sees Janssens in a significant way at the forefront

of what I see as new ideas of form in Belgium conceptualism. Along with a new generation

of artists such as Ermais Kifleyesus, and Kasper Bomans, Janssens is creating

conversations about art making that carries no frontiers, no philosophical blathering, just

simply the reward of taking the time to look.

Alpenland

Philip Janssens en Children of the White Leaf  in Project Space Studio Start



Hans THEYS



In 2007 zag ik een indrukwekkend werk van Philip Janssens (1980): een toonkast waarvan het glas was vervangen door politieglas. Dat is glas dat gaat spiegelen aan de zijde waar het meest licht is, terwijl het aan de andere zijde doorzichtig blijft. In de toonkast lag een lamp, zodat je een oneindige weerspiegeling van de lamp van buitenaf kon bekijken. Normaal gezien blokkeer je deze visuele lus, omdat je zelf tussen de twee spiegels staat. Hier niet. De lus werd werkelijk oneindig en absoluut, zonder onze inmenging, zonder aanwezigheid van de kunstenaar.

Voor de huidige tentoonstelling maakte Janssens een variant van dit werk: een lichtbak in de vorm van een witte sokkel, overdekt met een kap van politieglas. In de lichtbak stroboscopisch licht dat binnen de glazen kap eindeloos weerspiegeld wordt.

In een tweede, antieke toonkast worden enkele grote lenzen getoond, een glasplaatje dat uit de kap van de kast werd gesneden en een leren buidel met koperen muntstukjes die in diepdruk met het woord ‘Alpenland’ werden verrijkt of waarin kleine kuiltjes werden  geboord.

Verder toont de kunstenaar een zwarte lijst waarin, onzichtbaar een tweede glas bevindt, dat achterover helt, waardoor er een schiftende spiegeling ontstaat. Dit werk is verwant met collages waarin reproducties van twee schilderijen met hetzelfde onderwerp werden verstrengeld tot een nieuw beeld en met een reeks werken waarin een laag warme lucht ons beeld deed trillen.

“Wat het meest opvalt aan de sculpturale voorstellen en ingrepen van Philip Janssens,’ schreef ik in 2006, ‘zijn de precisie, de economie, de humor en het vermogen van materiaal en techniek te wisselen zonder inconsequent of onleesbaar te worden. De opeenvolgende werken laten zich lezen als een gedicht met wisselende klanken, maar met eenzelfde grondtoon. Een schijnbaar repetitief gedicht, waarvan de letters plotseling iets anders zeggen dan we dachten, zodat we gaan vermoeden dat ze van een moment van onoplettendheid gebruik hebben gemaakt om van plaats te wisselen.”

Vandaag luister ik naar een nieuwe CD van Philip Janssens, die ook muzikant is, en die tot stand kwam in samenwerking met de musicus Stefaan Huyghe (samen vormen ze Children of the White Leaf). De CD werd geschreven en opgenomen in hotel Amazonas in het Italiaanse Bolzano en in AIR. De klanken die we horen, noemt Janssens drones. Het zijn vooral lange, vaak monotone klanken, een meditatieve stroom van geluid, waaraan nieuwe klanken worden toegevoegd of weer van worden weggenomen. In dit geval werd bijvoorbeeld veel gewerkt met harmonium en synthesisers. “Je werkt meer aan de textuur van een klank,” vertelt Janssens, “dan aan de structuur ervan, zoals in rock of popmuziek, waar je je vooral afvraagt hoe vaak het refrein moet terugkeren en waar je welke brug plaatst. In het begin wilde ik zo saai mogelijke muziek maken,” vervolgt hij, “omdat mensen toch hun eigen klanken toevoegen aan wat ze horen, ze leggen daar zelf lagen over.”

Terwijl hij dit vertelt, luisteren we naar de muziek, terwijl ik door drie zwaar getraliede vensterraampjes dikke sneeuwvlokken zie dansen in de middagzon. Ik hoor een klank die doet denken aan een klagende wind en ik herinner mij mijn, eerste bezoek aan Antwerpen, dertig jaar geleden, toen mijn vriend Filip Baert mij kennis liet maken met het pas verschenen album “Eskimo” van The Residents.


Philip Janssens: “Een vriend heeft in het buitenland een Porsche gekocht die nu tegengehouden wordt door de douane. Maar als de auto er op tijd geraakt, rijden we hem in de tentoonstellingsruimte, voorzien we hem van contactmicro’s en bewerken we het geluid van de draaiende motor. Anders treden we gewoon op. Soms doen we dit met eveneens schijnbaar monotone projecties, bijvoorbeeld van elkaar snel opvolgende kleurvlekken, maar we hebben ook al eens opgetreden in een zaal die helemaal met mist gevuld was.”


Wat zal er nog te zien zijn?

Janssens: “Enkele dingen die ik heb gevonden. Je weet dat ik eens een cirkel uit een raam heb gesneden en dan met een vijzel het glas verpulverd heb tot stof, dat ik in een zakje tentoonstelde. Ik vroeg aan de glasspecialist Wouter Bolangier waar ik grote hoeveelheden zou kunnen vinden van het zand waar glas van wordt gemaakt. Hij raadde mij aan naar wit zand van Lommel te zoeken. Enkele dagen later vind ik op de kaai een zak van 25 kilo wit Lommels zand van een firma die Janssens heet… Die zak wordt tentoongesteld. Daarnaast toon ik zeven grote, stevige bladen papier die afkomstig zijn van een stapel van twintig, waar houtwormen gangen in hebben gegraven. Als je ze inlijst voor een zwarte achtergrond kan je de lichtjes variërende motieven lezen als een geheime partituur of een minimale sculptuur. Weet je, op een bepaalde manier is alles een object, maar tegelijk ook niets anders dan een verzameling eigenschappen, waarvan de meeste subjectief zijn. Je kan even goed zeggen dat er geen objecten bestaan. Wat wel bestaat, dat zijn de relaties die ze met elkaar en met ons aangaan. Voor mij is kunst geen taal, geen drager van betekenis, omdat elke betekenis meteen wordt ontmanteld, bijvoorbeeld door het voorwerp in de ruimte of in de tijd te verplaatsen. Zo’n ding is gewoon zichzelf, los van onze bedoelingen. De zogenaamde betekenis van een voorwerp is een stroom die uit de toekomst blijft komen. Ze lekt binnen vanuit de toekomst en is altijd tijdelijk. Daarom hou ik veel van het woord ‘dilettant’. Wie wil er nu professioneel zijn en duidelijk weten hoe je iets moet reproduceren door vastgelegde procedures te volgen? Hoe zou iets geslotens ooit een zinvolle betekenis kunnen krijgen, al was het maar voor even?”


Montagne de Miel, 14 maart 2013





Immortal traces left behind by silence and loss / Solid matter spreads ever-deepening chasm





Douglas PARK



Haunting ghost patrol turnover stepped and trodden footprints make impact, add up and pile high; into one flat cloud expanse.  Stain, burn, rust and debris wound deposits reinforce, multiply and fossilise.  Joined-together eternal sheets divide equally.  Ensuing

folds hover freely, float, hang loose, rest, press down, push, stretch tight and adhere.  Stacks compress, becoming single vast unit.


Special-duty multitasking force-field enacts spring-clean and exorcism regime; their labours and input erase, dismantle and remove endless skin.  Darkness and shadows gradually fade, bleach, rinse and wash off; surface heated, drying and pure; actual agent and cause of cleansing and hygiene.  Case-study specimen example, subjected to

scrutiny, inspection and memorising.


Precision-engineering gossamer-weightlifting effort unravels infinite scroll.  Slowly, pages turn over; sometimes, wide ribbon and preserved floral bush bookmarks save and keep place reached in epic and generative story.


Archæological clue hunt and forensic-evidence buried-treasure search begun. Tireless exploration, discovery and inventing follows.  Many finds made.  Much insight gleaned.


Strict policy insists fresh layers be planted as replacement for every extraction taken; even though former stock gets put back, returned to very same source come from, exactly where and how they were before. Diagnoses verdict findings arrived at filed under categorical entry, according to standard procedures, held in storage, awaiting future reference and usage later on.


Input and pressure take toll, substance wears away, until nearly all-but used up.  Surviving floorboards, panelling and brickwork fall, cut, split, tear and break apart.  Stripped length, scraped shavings, broken rubble, crushed powder, ground dust, smouldering ash and

smokestack perform vanishing-trick disappearance-act.  Any remainders swept under carpet.  However, unavoidable and overwhelming presence survives; intact and invincible.


Fate affords harmonically kept perfect-timing and unhindered progress. Upgrade and reinforcement means expanding contents-held overloads, host-space soon outgrown(which undergœs constrictive shrinkage and collapsing implosion anyway); both factors combined endanger themselves, each other and all else with certain extinction.  Somehow, those nearby narrowly escape, but only just in time.


Whilst momentum is built, speed gained increases.  Amidst almighty blinding flash, long overdue and belated delivery arrives, new energy and power brought.



On the Work of Philip JANSSENS.









Based on a discussion between Philip Janssens and Isabel Van Bos


Philip Janssens’ work forces the spectator to unconsciously perform, to move uncomfortably from one point to another. An interaction with the audience emerges while the work on display interrelates with the viewer and actively challenges or passively forces the public into the role of a performer. Here, the focal point is an illusion which leaves spectators in a state of doubt, unable to capture a clear image.

Philip Janssens’ practise investigates the subjectivity of perception and the physical impossibility of objective mental reproduction, he renounces the idea of artistic authorship or the artwork as an immutable object and surpasses traditional codes of scenography. By doing so Janssens’ artistic practise confronts the viewer with an intense visual dialogue.

Starting from the question ‘what is an image?’ on account of what pictures are and how they function, Philip Janssens posits the body as a medium wherein, through the act of viewing, external images are transformed into mental images.  Janssens confronts the spectator with repetition, mutilated objects, fabrics with a reflecting surface, mix music scores, playful scenographical enquiries and other bewildering materials which create prismatic effects, making it impossible for the spectator to focus. This could be considered as the opposite of common sense, which in most societies forms the foundation of empirical thought and results from accurately describing facts.  

In reality however the works are meant to distract, to confuse, to confront, to pose unsuspected interpretations, to challenge the visitor and to engage her. By doing so, Janssens over-emphasizes the relationship between objecthood and perception. This physical interaction renders the viewer aware of their own body as a living medium and so a performative situation arises. A situation which questions the supposed objectivism of our constant, everyday perception.


PHILIP JANSSENS

An artist in residency, Wiels, Studio 8.





MD (TSUA interview)


Philip Janssens °1980 Lilles, France, and grew up in Antwerp, Belgium. He currently lives and works in Brussels. The artist studied ‘In Situ’ (Site-Specific Installation) in the Academy of Fine Arts (Antwerp, Belgium).


Philip Janssens’s work includes public actions, installation, sculptures, collages and drawings. He makes site-sensitive work, using a wide range of materials with a sharp attention to physical lightness. Inspired by the potentially opposing categories of Kantian thinking and Speculative Realism, Janssens’s art has an inclination for transitional states. His works are at once aesthetically pleasing and inspire prolonged reflection.


This surrounding us all went to see the artist in his rehearsal and storage space in Antwerp and in his studio in Wiels, where he is currently doing a residency.


Are surroundings important to you?

From the perspective of an artist, the surrounding elements are crucial and central to me. I make site-sensitive work so I don’t see those things separate from each other. At the exhibition place itself my work crystallises further. Now I have this studio at Wiels, but before this I never had an studio. I sent in an application for Wiels because I wanted to try some more studio based work. Before I never wished for it because it determines form quite a bit, but for what I want to do now, a studio like this is exactly what I need.


Somehow it surprises me that you never had a studio of your own. Your work strikes me as certainly sensitive for aesthetics too. I just assumed you would need a fixed place. Maybe only to surround yourself with beauty?

I never had a studio. Though I did always have a fixed place that I returned to, to store my equipment, materials and gear in. Something like the place we visited together in AIR (Artist In Residence: Antwerp), that now functions as rehearsal space. Sometimes a kitchen table could be enough to work on, sometimes its the place that I exhibit in. 


But then you choose to do this residency in Wiels?

Now, I do feel the urge to make work in a studio. This is also quite an accommodating space. I have central heating for example (laughs). Furthermore I just step outside of my studio door and I meet (Belgian choreographer) Anne Theresa De Keersmaeker who is performing here at the moment with her company. You are in the context of Wiels. That works. To me personally, it feels right. I am putting things together and creating some kind of summary. When I studied ‘In Situ’ (Site-Specific Instalation) in the Academy (of Fine Arts Antwerp), it was very normal for me to not make studio based work. It didn’t need to take place in that sacred little cave. It could arise everywhere and that is very airy. I always held onto that preference. At a certain moment I also started to make work that didn’t work in an exhibition context.


Like what?

Something I did back then, dealt with stealing the wallets of people I was having some form of contact with. I cut out a section of one their  banknotes and gave the wallet back. One-on-one things. Work whereby it wasn’t per se suitable to communicate it had an author. I do think it is an issue that everything acutely gets grandeur, becomes art, when it enters a white-space. Quite problematic if you ask me.


How do you look at art? When do you encounter something as ‘art’?

When you start showing something as art, it closes a lot of possibilities. It also gets inaccessible for a lot of people. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have an ideologic mission; I don’t want to educate people. I am just saying; the world of contemporary art is coloured. It does weigh on a work. For me personally, the power of a work is that it can migrate in and out of ‘art’. I don’t have an aversion against white-spaces or the art world. I do value that world. But THE ART for me does not have the higher status that it can be for some.


Where do you position yourself as an artist in that art world?

I am not fully convinced there is such a thing as an artist. I think it is a bit of an artificial distinction we make between what we call artists and all the rest. I am convinced there is something as art though. But being an artist? That, for me, is a fabrication. I look at pieces or works as logical effects or side effects from a certain attitude or life style. I have certain curiosities, interests, preferences. It all happens pretty natural. There have also been periods that I didn’t create work, that I was busy with other things. At a certain point I even worked full-time in a factory.



Do you loose a part of your identity when you don’t make art?

Two years I worked full-time in some kind of factory let’s just say. Night shifts. Yes, I did indeed loose myself a bit. I think it was a general feeling in that place though. Complete alienation!


What do you need in your surroundings to keep feeling yourself?

Space. Mental space. Being able to do what you need to do, without having to justify yourself all the time. I need to be able to keep messing around. I do not want to be forced to have to know what i am doing at every given monent. It is very difficult though! You have everyday life. You have to get bread. I have a girlfriend that I want to see. I have to work around these daily stuff. Between those lines I can colour. But I have to have the freedom to do whatever that comes up in me!


You studied on the department ‘In Situ’ at the Academy of Antwerp and before that you studied Philosophy. How did this effect you?

Before I started ‘In Situ’ I studied two years of Philosophy at the Free university of Brussels. After that second year I went to look at the open day of the Academy. I didn’t feel at ease anymore with studying Philosophy. I needed a new direction. I saw the studio of ‘In Situ’ and I just inscribed. It was an awakening to be honest. I washed ashore there and i woke up (laughs).


What were your influences?

There are certain fetishes or preferences that reoccur. By looking at your own work through the years, by taking some distance, you learn to know various influences of yourself. I am definitely interested in everything that is concerning or dealing with the Copernican Revolution. For me those questions are still greatly relevant. What can we know exactly? If I look at that tennis ball, that ‘Object In General’ (Transcendental Object), you wonder. There are realities that will always be hidden for us. Kant. That appeals to me. That we ourselves limit our own boundaries of knowledge because of the filters we can’t help but look through. Also Speculative Realism, a movement in contemporary philosophy that is attracting me at the moment. Please don’t get me wrong, I am not imagining complex philosophical dilemmas to make complicated translations of in my work (laughs). But they are an influence.


Did it help you as an artist that you first studied Philosophy?

The fact that I studied philosophy may have eased my comfortability in certain areas. I never felt the urge to advocate my work in terms of content. I never had the feeling that my activities were random or aimless, also when I didn’t acutely gave meaning to every aspect. I tend to get displeased if there are fixed meanings and symbols. And I loose interest if work is backed up by too slick an explanation. It makes me feel uncomfortable because it gives me an immediate feeling of deep inner agony. My intuition tells me there is uneasiness with the work. “What does that word suddenly appear here? Why did somebody just say idiosyncrasy? Was that truly necessary?” (laughs)      


Do you work following a fixed schedule?

I always end up in different waves. Yesterday I started my day at 10 AM, the day before at 03 AM. Today it was 7 AM. I have great respect for people who have a fixed rhythm, not because they have to go to work. You just do that because you are a slave (laughs). I mean people who do that because of a deep inner motivation. But I never had that. A studio helps though.


Why is this place important?

First of all, you can not visit me unexpectedly. I am located at the top floor of the Wiels building and you only reach this area with a key. It does work for my working rhythm. No distractions. Second thing, I am here with other residents. They come from all over the place. A very eclectic group, very different people. And there are some people, there is some work that inspires me. I have my methods, but it’s not the only true one. Meeting interesting new people who are doing things, being in a place that moves, that bears activity in it, it provides the right energy.


There are a few reoccurring themes in your work. You work a lot with variations on money. Why is money so fascinating to you?

I love money. Coins for example; they fit perfectly in my hands. Money is pretty, it shines. And above all, you can use it. I often create a deviation within the money so as to make it mine somehow. Then I send it back into the world. It finds its way to the public. Money interests me because it naturally rolls. It goes around. It spreads itself. People want it. People even chase after it.  


What do you want to achieve by creating this so called deviation in money?

I have the tendency to encounter charged or meaningful moments with my surroundings during times that I am alone. Apparently I have to be unaccompanied to make certain connections. I guess the need to create things results from that. If I am working here in my studio, if I am alone in the car, those are the scarce moments in which I am living in the now. In which I don’t Iive for the future. In which I stop making plans. And these relevant incidents often only happen when I am by myself. I strive to create moments like this for others. It has to be able to carry that potential at least. The potential that somebody can have a meaningful experience with my art (laughs). For my work with the money, maybe that is the point of confusion. The point that there is not much more than ‘I am’ because of this confusion.


Are there other reoccurring themes in your work?

I often work with images that don’t have fixed appearances. Images that keep positioning themselves towards the viewer, that don’t have a rigid settled center, things that keep moving. So a permanent insecurity remains. Also in our memory. I also like working with glass because I like light-based things. At one point I was making display cabinets. Objects you look right through. In every aspect in my life, I like this lightness. I travelled for a little while, I lived in other places. You learn that property keeps you retained, keeps you back. I don’t want an overabundance of work. After my work with the cabinets, I had an excess of glass, and I started to grind it, to purify it. It just happens this way.      


How important is light and colour to you?

Colour is incorporeal and therefore has something untouchable. Light is also a personal fetish of mine. The blind spots that I try to create for example. A blind spot perverts everything that you see after. A nice detour, making sure that art is transferred to humans (laughs). I have scratches on my eyes ever since I remember. Showing images is creating a film on the reality you will see afterwards. Next week this space will be different for you and me. But it will also be shaped by the conversation we have now. I guess here you see my interest in Kant again. How the underlying reality becomes unattainable. I have a preference for images that offer themselves like that. I love mirages for instance. There is a difference in optical density between cold and hot air, and this difference bends light. Voila, a mirage! It is not quite substantial, but it does create an experience. Such qualities appeal to me. I love working with these things.


I already asked it earlier, but you kind of evaded the question. Where would you put yourself/ your work within the art world?

(Philip Laughs) I could maybe start with saying I am not a typical Antwerp or Flemish artist, although my roots lie there. My identity as a person or an artist is not connected with this area at all. I travelled around to be away from it to be honest. I feel trapped by smallness very quickly. Maybe because I grew up in a small village, this became so clear to me. But it is difficult question to answer (laughs).


Maybe it can help if you look at your own influences within the art tradition?

I am a child of the continental traditions with influences like Beuys, Kline, and more locally, Michel François. Just to drop some names (laughs). I make site sensitive installations. I am also from a generation for whom the internet is normal. There is little nostalgia, there are no personal archives. I don’t find authenticity in that. I don’t see objects as stand-alone possessors of meaning. The emphasis for me lies on relationships, gestures. I also don’t have a high regard for explaining everything. I believe in suspense still. And if I really have to go even deeper, more intuitive, then art is, for me, something that leaks from the future.