e.v. - langer dan tien jaar

The work of e.v. transforms elements that capture the artist’s attention into pictorial signs within essential rhythms. Streets, dates, and environments are graphically defined in a structural manner, while the minimalist-abstract character acts as a vessel for intuition and a longing for connection with others. e.v. creates a tension between form and content: the form arises from a rigorous concept and deliberate material choices, while the content leans on the human domain and hand-drawn lines. Here, minimalism serves as a bellows, breathing organic humanity into the work.

Material research is crucial for e.v. How does the medium behave? Minimalism is consistent, and the concept remains more important than heavy materiality. There is a certain lightness in both material and image. The boundary between readability and unreadability lies in the movement of the viewer. As a spectator, one must make an effort. From a distance, only structure, line, and color remain. Details hide within the paper when viewed from afar. One must come closer. In intimate proximity to the work, letters and numbers become visible, and graphs and lines emerge clearly. The artist explicitly explores the line itself: how long can it be? Using oil, Japanese brushes, ink, gouache, or watercolor? The material has a will of its own—sometimes producing a smooth line, sometimes resulting in hesitation.

One of the works featuring crossed diagonals, Joker (2020), is a reworked backside of a playing card. e.v. desaturated the colors and enlarged the card. By respecting the original format of the paper medium, a margin emerges between the image and the sheet, functioning as a kind of frame—a linear consequence of the visual intervention. This fondness for margins and emptiness also appears in Babels Blanco (2015), a work that displays all potential text. The computer-generated letters represent the ingredients of language, theoretically capable of forming any text. We relate to this system, yet here, there is nothing to read. A tension arises between the robotic nature of the computer and the spontaneity of the hand-applied letters within a wobbly grid.

The grid play in the series Huiskamer G & H (2024) is a translation of the artworks in the living room of a couple of artist friends. e.v. measured each piece hanging there and converted them into her own visual language. The various dimensions of the checkered compositions correspond to the formats and compositions of the original works. Like a blueprint, e.v. presents a parallel reality that allows one to enter the intimacy of someone’s home while still maintaining a distance. The artist seems to ask: "How close can we get to someone? And is that even allowed? Where does the comfort of familiarity end?"

These questions surrounding intimacy also surface in Yu Jian: Distant Friend via The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoevsky) (2024), where the parallels between a poetic friendship and a literary brotherhood become visible. e.v. inscribed sentences from Dostoevsky’s novel onto paper and then connected letters with straight red lines. These connections form the poem Distant Friend. A visual tangle emerges—one that appears mathematical but ultimately relies on the artist’s instinct. The composition blossoms as e.v. evaluates and rebalances the total image, line by line. Where there are gaps, she adds quotations. Where the image feels sufficiently dense, she allows her system to rest. This paradoxically makes the system not a system. The final result is reminiscent of the relationships between Dostoevsky’s characters. The writer, too, weaves a web of connections.

The selected sentences in Yu Jian: Distant Friend via The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoevsky) imposed themselves upon the artist. "Besides, I don’t really know what to say anymore, everything has been said..." is an example of something that resonated with e.v. The writer expressed what the artist wished to say. Removed from their original context, the sentences take on a universal quality. Distant friendships possess a specific complexity—sticking like butter, yet remaining slippery. The artist navigates this by observing how forms and clusters instinctively emerge. The grid is merely a trompe-l’oeil; there is no mathematics here, only intuition. The free hand guides the exploration of the line, which is not always razor-sharp. There is room for the accidental, leaving the door ajar for an unforced warmth.

In e.v.’s library, anecdotal moments are preserved. Notebooks filled with journeys and actions are compiled, offering insight into what leads to the drawings. Numbers and lines here become anchored to the artist’s daily life. Image and research converge. Some things, however, cannot be drawn.

Yasmin Van ‘tveld