The artist Ash Bowland shares her pursuit of depth and authenticity in art, and the challenges she encounters along the way. We also delve into her project, THE ARCHIVE HOTEL, which emerged from a period of self-reflection.
by SHAKE THE FRAME
·
To start my search for the right questions for the people I interview, I, like everyone else, begin by Googling the person. The first thing I see are photos on the website of photographer Luc Dewaele, taken at Recyclart in Brussels. No year is mentioned, but your hair is completely shaved in these photos. Can you tell us more about this snapshot and who Ash Bowland is?
That's actually quite funny that you found that photo. It was taken during my master’s year, which must have been in 2011 or 2012. I was 21 or 22 years old at the time. Luc was someone who was also pursuing a master’s degree. He was an older man who had studied photography for over ten years and then decided to do his master’s. This was at Recyclart, back when Recyclart was still located at the Brussels-Kapellekerk station.
Halfway through our master’s year, the artist Dries Segers and I had a duo exhibition. It was an exhibition of the progress of our master’s project. The work that I eventually presented during my master’s year, and which is visible in that photo, was still in an intermediate stage, where we were experimenting with materials for our presentation. The final work became something entirely different. It stayed within the same conceptual framework and research context, but visually, it completely changed.
At that time, I wasn’t necessarily a different person, but the way I presented myself to the world and how I moved through it was quite different. And actually, the same was true for the work that was exhibited at that time. It featured a naked woman. During my master’s, I had two mentors: Liesbeth Decan, who mentored me on theoretical research and my thesis, and Aglaia Konrad for my visual work.
Aglaia had a radical stance on the female nude. She never explicitly said it, but it was very clear. I found that quite challenging because I wanted to follow my own path. But during that master’s year, I also discovered that the image just didn’t fit anymore.
I wonder if the way I dressed and presented myself to the world also changed somewhat because of that. I’ve always played a lot with the idea of femininity, both conceptually and visually, because I find it a particularly beautiful concept. But I always enjoyed playing with the stereotype of femininity. How should a woman look, how should she feel, how should she express herself?
I sometimes feel that the choices I made in my work, almost completely erasing the female nude, were accompanied by how I presented myself to the outside world. That’s a thought I have now. Maybe it’s not the absolute truth, but it is a consideration.
"But I always enjoyed playing with the stereotype of femininity."
Were you yourself at that moment?
At that time, certainly, because that’s who I had been for years. For example, the way I looked with my shaved hair— I was 21 then. I think that was one of the last years I had that hairstyle because I shaved my head when I was 16. Now, I wouldn’t even know where that idea came from. I wasn’t necessarily rebellious. I follow the rules well and know my place in the hierarchy. Maybe I play with that a bit; I sometimes gamble on it, but in reality, I’m very compliant.
So, I don’t think it was necessarily a rebellious act, but I’ve always been like... "Oh, I have a desire for that now, so I’ll do it." It’s hard to describe why. There’s something inside me that says, "I want that now, so I’ll do it."
This always comes with a lot of doubt and fear, and I may disappoint people with it, but in the end, I always go through with it. No matter how much I worry about the impact it might have on others or on my relationship with them, I always go through with it because I feel I have no other choice. (Laughs.)
On your website, you use a numbering system with Roman numerals for your works. What inspired you to work in series?
Since my master’s year, I’ve been working under one title: "Le-donner-à-voir." It started in my master’s year with the question: Is a photographic image capable of being a singular image? In my thesis, I researched Picture for Women by Jeff Wall and Las Meninas by Velázquez. I placed them side by side purely based on an experience.
In the Prado Museum in Madrid, everyone gathers around Las Meninas. People really feel a connection with the painting, even in a physical way. You approach it closely to examine the texture, then step back to see the whole picture, which allows you to discover more of the work.
There’s a continuous physical relationship with the work, and that physical relationship makes the viewer linger much longer. This aspect is often missing in photography. Unless you’re interested in a pixel, you rarely see someone wandering around a photographic image. Except for Jeff Wall.
Wall had a retrospective at Bozar. Jeff Wall is known for his large lightboxes. These lightboxes are so big that the images couldn’t be printed at that size at the time. As a result, the photos were printed in fragments and then pieced together.
So, in every image, there were seams. That was very intriguing. Suddenly, Jeff Wall’s work became more than just photography. Of course, many artists work with this concept, but I think Jeff Wall was one of the first, and certainly the first I discovered, where photography became something else. And so, you could also build a relationship with the work. So, I placed those two works side by side because, in most cases, a painting is a singular work—one image that has enough power, both aesthetically and conceptually, to hold a viewer’s attention. But my question was: Can a photographic image do that too? With Jeff Wall, I felt it could.
From there, I began my research into the 'meta-picture,' the image that speaks about the image itself. I wondered if a photographic image could tell everything within its boundaries. This research forms the basis of my further work. To this day, I keep asking myself the same question: How does an image come into being, and how do you build a relationship between the photographic image and the viewer? The case studies, marked with Roman numerals, are all smaller investigations, numbered under categories. Some of these works have a title in quotation marks, especially in recent years, but often not.
I read online that you had an exhibition at the Cas-co exhibition space in Leuven during 'Off the Grid.' The exhibition was called THE ARCHIVE HOTEL. What is THE ARCHIVE HOTEL, and how did the exhibition come about?
THE ARCHIVE HOTEL is a project I initiated in 2019, born out of a period of creative paralysis when I struggled to reconcile my artistic and personal life. The project aimed to create an online platform, materialized as a digital publication printed in small series. Each issue, limited to ten copies, featured a specific layout and thematic questions. After a first year following this structure, the project evolved in its second year. During these two years, I interviewed artists, mainly in Belgium, about the importance of their visual archives in their artistic practice, focusing on those engaged in conceptual research.
The idea for THE ARCHIVE HOTEL emerged from the tension between respecting others' work and my fascination with collected images. Inspired by my love for images and my rejection of unoriginal appropriation, I developed the concept of "Homage & Conflict." This work questions the use of others' visual material and the process of appropriation. Throughout the project, I explored the role of the archive in artistic creation, never explicitly mentioning my personal involvement in THE ARCHIVE HOTEL, although my collaborators were aware of it.
It’s clear that the process and preparation, as well as the ideas behind an artist’s work, are of great importance. Since I’ve known you, from the age of 18, I’ve witnessed your dedication to writing, how you fill your notebooks with inspiration, texts, and research. These notebooks, reminiscent of mood boards used by fashion designers, have always intrigued me. What do these sketchbooks mean to you?
I have many of them. Over the last two or three years, I often think back to them and realize that I don’t do it anymore. The period when I wasn’t working and now being back at it makes me feel like I’m not fully myself yet. I believe these sketchbooks symbolize that. I used to always carry small sketchbooks with me. On the one hand, because my memory is terrible. When I read, I often misinterpret things. That’s why I give myself the freedom to 'steal' words and mold them into something that makes sense to me. Writing was always a way to process things. Reading and marking things is too fleeting. But when I then write everything down or note it later and then type it out on a typewriter, it gains meaning. I now incorporate these written pages into my work. For me, it’s a way to fully absorb those words. That way, I ensure that the meaning of those words isn’t lost.
 |
 |
"But at some point, you let go of those dreams. You realize that maybe it’s not going to happen. I’m not sure if that realization has necessarily been good for me."
The process of filling and drawing had something obsessive about it, and I was always particularly proud of that. The sketchbooks were full, and that gave me satisfaction. But when I look back at them now, I often feel fear and shame. I can’t quite explain why, but it’s something I don’t really do anymore.
It feels like life is overwhelming me. But I would love for some things to feel more intense again. I’m annoyed by the superficiality and fleetingness of everything.
It can be wonderful that things are fleeting, but I feel like I’m now resigning myself to what life is. Yet I’ve always had dreams. I clearly remember, in my senior year of high school, when I left Sint-Lukas de Kunsthumaniora. I told my beloved music teacher, Iris Algoet, "Just wait, in three years you’ll see my work in a museum." Laughs. Back then, it felt so realistic, full of dreams and ambitions, with, of course, a touch of arrogance that came with it.
But at some point, you let go of those dreams. You realize that maybe it’s not going to happen. I’m not sure if that realization has necessarily been good for me. But everything stays on the surface. For me, life doesn’t have to be big or special, but I do need that intensity. And I miss that sometimes. In the studio, I now find that intensity again by fully immersing myself in my work. Recently, I went to a museum and came out completely recharged, truly fully recharged! While I had been struggling with feelings of exhaustion for months. Apparently, all I need is that immersion in images, beauty, and ideas that go beyond the daily grind. It’s that depth that I missed so much.
What motivated you to pursue a career in art, and how has being a woman influenced your journey as an artist?
At 16, I decided to pursue an art education focused on audiovisual design because I couldn’t draw, and the possibilities in photography and film deeply appealed to me. I discovered new talents within myself, which made me happy, and I knew that art was the path I wanted to follow in life. Although I worked in restaurants for a long time and enjoyed it, my motivation was always to fully dedicate myself to my art. Despite financial responsibilities and the need for stability, art remains my greatest passion, even though I find it difficult to focus entirely on it.
During my studies, as a woman in a male-dominated environment, I often felt I wasn’t taken seriously, especially during my bachelor’s years. Questions during jury evaluations seemed more focused on me as a person rather than on my work, which was frustrating. In later years, with more female teachers, this improved somewhat, but I still notice that I often work in male-dominated settings and that collaborating with women can sometimes be more challenging due to the struggle for recognition. Although the art world is slowly changing, it remains harder for women to be taken seriously, and that struggle is often necessary to be seen.
"But I think it’s still harder for women to get their work seen. The numbers don’t lie: the work of female artists in museums and galleries, what gets sold, and the prices of female artists reflect the reality. "
Upcoming Group Exhibition: "KUNST BOETIEK"
September 6 - Vernissage
September 7-8
Adress:
AsiatMechelsesteenweg 255
1800 Vilvoorde
Where can we find you?
Instagram: @ash0bowland
Instagram: @thearchivehotel
Website: www.ashbowland.com
Ash Bowland, a Brussels-based artist and founder of THE ARCHIVE HOTEL.
Text: Naomi Uten
Copywriter: Naomi Uten
Photography: Naomi Uten
Published on 29.08.2024