Aron Gent – Carolien Stikker/Philippine Hoegen
Carolien Stikker/Philippine Hoegen:
P and C to A and A
In the background a small grey house cowers between tall black-green leaves. The actors disperse themselves evenly across the neat lawn in front of the house. The man on the right pretends to be caught in the middle of his gardening duties. His chin juts out, his body thrust slightly forward. He holds his tool tightly to his chest like a weapon.
Straight in front of the house a figure hesitates, hands in pockets, she looks on with some concern. She has forgotten her role.
On the far side two boys play ball. The left one bends his knees and hangs his arms, guerrilla style, a defensive, goal keeper role. He must get tired holding that posture.
His aggressor on the right is tipping his body backwards, arms stuck out behind him for counterbalance, his right leg as it comes up is lifting towards the ball which lies placidly still in the short cut grass.
In the picture in the picture, she looks like a film star. Or a singer, somebody famous and fabulous and glamorous in the particular forties kind of way. She is flanked by left and right by young guys in uniforms who look like they can’t quite believe their luck, grinning ridiculously. There is something in the birdcage, it could for all I know be a crumpled up piece of paper but I assume a bird, a budgie, a sad lonely budgie.
I see a relationship between the car and the dog. They are abandoned, temporarily disowned or unmanned, even though the dog manages to get some attention from a passing young smiler by sprawling prostrate on her back.
The car has no such tricks to play, it just waits uncomfortably with its back wheels on the side walk and its front out in the road looking highly misplaced and redundant.
The spade that was digging lies still on the ground facing down into it’s own freshly dug hole, leaning over the edge of the shallow pit that looks randomly purposeful.
Further away the axe has buried its head in a log which is part of a pile that still has to be tackled and looks far to big for the slender instrument which has surrendered itself there, spanning its meagre harvest and its daunting task.
Images from Aron’s show:
Not Quite As Good Because of You