INTERVIEW WITH HERMAN LAMERS – PART II
In this second part of the interview with Herman Lamers, he explains the history of the two sculptures he made for the Oude Westen and describes his personal life and artistry. If you have not read part one yet, please read it first for the full context.
Herman Lamers: When you make a sculpture, you always make people bigger than normal. You change the proportions, and you do something to make it interesting. But he had nothing special other than his height. So I made him exactly life-size, so you can stand close to him and only then really notice his height. And I put him in a kind of ‘house situation’ so you can compare his size with everything else. I like it when people stand close to him. I also like the black and white sculpture, even though it is actually a bronze sculpture.
Cláudia Freitas: That was my next question. What techniques and materials did you use for this sculpture and for ‘Zebra in Trouble’?
HL: The zebra in trouble is made of aluminum and galvanized iron. This one (the Giant) is made of bronze, which I painted white.
CF: So you painted the bronze to make it more of a grey color? Why?
HL: Yes, I wanted to make it look like a black and white photograph, because all the images of him are in black and white. I didn’t want it to be shiny or yellow. Also, in those days a lot of sculptures were being stolen in Holland. To this day, many people don’t know that it is actually bronze. The chair, the shoes, and the figure are bronze; the rest is concrete. What else would you like to know about me?
CF: You have already answered a big part of it! But I want to know more about you personally. What was it like to be born and raised in Bussum, and why did you move here?
HL: Have you ever been to Bussum? (laughs)
CF: No, never (laughs).
HL: Bussum is close to Amsterdam. I was born in the hospital there, but I was raised in Weesp, a town even closer to Amsterdam. And when I was eighteen…
CF: You went to an academy in the north, right?
HL: Yes, Groningen. Do you want to know why?
CF: Yes, of course! Why did you go there, and do you think it was necessary for your artistic training or not?
HL: You want to know more about me than I do myself (laughs). I went to Academy Minerva, and I liked it there. Actually, I first studied medicine and wanted to become a doctor. After two years I thought, ‘This is silly, you don’t want to be a doctor.’ Then I decided to become an artist. When you wanted to study medicine back then, there were only a limited number of places you could go, so I was sent to Groningen. And I wanted to go there anyway, because I don’t like Amsterdam. Afterward, I stayed in the same city and took an art degree at Academy Minerva. It was a very traditional art school with a lot of figurative art.
CF: But do you think it was necessary for your career, or not at all?
HL: No, it was actually very good. Not all of it, but sometimes you have to learn silly things in order to make good choices afterward. During those five years I made figurative art, and when I finished the degree, I became an abstract artist; later, I started making figurative art again. But I’m not focused on figurative art anymore. I don’t know, I like a combination of things.
CF: So you mix figurative art with abstract art?
HL: Hmmm… it’s quite complex to explain what I’ve been doing. I’m not a figurative artist. I’m more of a conceptual artist who makes figurative things. I think more about the function of art. For example, I never work in my studio.
CF: You never work in your studio? Where do you work, then?
HL: I always work in the moment, in the situation itself. I make installations, react on the spot, and respond to situations in my life. I do sometimes work in my studio, but I don’t like the old fashioned artist’s method. I like the reactions that arise within the space.
CF: You make a lot of work for public space. Do you prefer that to making work for galleries or museums?
HL: I never work for galleries. I did do an installation at Museum Boijmans, in a special spot. I’m not against museums, but I’m not that type of artist. In the eighties and nineties, I made a lot of works that were not for sale. They were temporary pieces that lasted months or weeks and were then destroyed. It was only in the nineties that I started making things for public space.
CF: I read on your website that the two words that define your work are time and space. How do you connect these words to these two artworks?
HL: The Giant is a good example of time. It reminds me of the fifties, so I made it in black and white; it looks like an old photograph. And space… I have always said that a bad sculpture can be interesting if it’s placed well, but a good sculpture can be completely ruined by its surroundings. Space has a huge influence on sculpture. I was very angry when they wanted to move the Giant to another spot.
CF: They wanted to? It probably wouldn’t make sense in another location.
HL: They actually asked me, ‘Do you agree to have it placed somewhere else, further at the back of the garden?’ I was outraged, so I said no. Or, to be fair, I told them they would have to pay me a lot of money. I said, ‘One hundred thousand euros, and then you can move it,’ and they said, ‘Okay, we won’t do it’ (laughs). It would have been disrespectful to the artist, because I had thought carefully about the placement and the effect of the shadow. They also removed the shadow at one point, but it’s back now. For a long time, though, it wasn’t there.
I asked him about some artworks he had made outside the Netherlands, and whether that had changed his perspective on the process of making them. For him, it is the same thing: he reacts to the space, and the differences between these places allow him to make different interventions. He even added, “Everywhere, I am a stranger.” When I asked if he had a favorite technique, he replied immediately, “No.” He then started showing me the artworks in his book and explained how he had made some of his sculptures. The way he works with glass creates an image formed by the hole in it, a sculpture made in reverse, so to speak. As he described the Angel piece: “It isn’t there, only its reflection is there; like an angel, it isn’t there, but you can imagine it.”
CF: What is this technique called?
HL: I don’t know; I discovered it myself.
CF: Another interesting thing I noticed in your work is that it always depicts people and animals. Why is that?
HL: It’s all about being there. All the sculptures are a kind of image of myself or of someone else. And I like to be the loner, the outsider who shows what people really are… This one, for example, is in Amsterdam (points to the image of The Last Dance, 2005); it’s like an electricity substation, but electricity near water is obviously a bad idea, so I put a dancing couple on top of it. They are dancing dangerously, apart from the rest of the world. I like to make things that are funny, but also a little sad at the same time; I enjoy mixing the two.
CF: And the animals?
HL: People like animals, but animals often also feel like they are in the wrong place. In this one (he points to another of his works), the animal is in the wrong spot too.
CF: So you like putting animals in the wrong places?
HL: Yes! I like combining animals, people, and situations where the animal doesn’t belong. This llama in the water, for example, is also absurd. Did you know that llamas don’t like water? They hate water, and they’re also animals that spit. And this sculpture happens to stand in front of a tax office (laughs).
CF: You try to be a little sarcastic toward the people who hire you (laughs).
HL: Yes, and everyone likes it, because they know it’s a bit of a wink. I’m a mix of serious and not serious, funny and not funny. That’s my way of working! Do you have any more questions?
CF: Yes, I do! I promise we’re almost done. How did you receive the invitation to make these two artworks in the Oude Westen? Probably in different ways, since I know they were made four years apart…
HL: The Giant came out of a competition. Three artists were asked to make a proposal, and I won (laughs).
CF: And the Zebras?
HL: For the Zebras, it was actually the neighborhood that asked me to make it, because the idea was to combine architecture and sculpture, with young and older artists working together. I was the older one, the senior (laughs), and I was asked to work with the young artists and make a proposal for the whole area. In the end, though, there wasn’t enough money for the whole project. They wanted to change everything; the Zebras were only meant to be part of a bigger and more interesting plan. But in the end, only my Zebra project remained, because they liked my idea best. The other artists were upset about it, because their plans weren’t approved.
CF: Unfortunately, I won’t be able to see the whole project then, but at least I can see part of it! Since we are a Street Art Museum now, what do you think about being part of our collection? You can be honest (laughs).
HL: I’m very pleased that my two sculptures are part of it. It’s great that this kind of project is getting more attention and that there is more background to the pieces (referring to street art and graffiti). I like some murals and not others, but that’s normal; everyone has a different opinion. It’s always a fight to get art into every neighborhood, so I want to be part of every art initiative like this one.
CF: What do you think about the museum being an open air museum?
HL: I don’t know… Of course, it’s always good to make art more accessible and part of the community. I myself prefer making public art. But sometimes it’s strange: people are afraid of art. Many people think that art doesn’t make sense, is ugly or weird, or is too expensive… the image of art isn’t always the best. When you say, ‘We’re going to put a nice sculpture here,’ people don’t care. Who wants a nice sculpture? Nobody wants a nice sculpture. The image of art just isn’t that good… When there is an open air museum, I think there is more communication with the public, and it improves the image of art. I would like to see more temporary things. The Giant was quite expensive, because it had to last forever. But when you make something for one or two years, that can be more interesting; it can be more lively and nice, because the place is constantly changing. In a way, I am actually against permanent sculpture.
I ended the interview by asking Herman how he considers or defines himself as an artist. His answer was precise, like someone who knows very well how to present his artistic vision and who trusts his own process:
HL: I am a conceptual artist who thinks about space in a social context.
After a long conversation that allowed me to get to know this remarkable and unusual artist personally, I asked Herman for a photo with him, since I thought it was fitting to capture such a moment. He happily said yes and then went on with his day to day life. His work invites an intense exploration of the human condition, in all its greatest ironies and obstacles, lost in uncertain times and inhabited by a space that people claim through their dominant presence.
