hristien Rijnsdorp, De Hef, 2008 foto: Barbara Smeenk
Christien Rijnsdorp, 'De Hef', 2008
Christien Rijnsdorp, De Hef, 2008
Center The Hague: Spui - Grote Marktstraat - Kalvermarkt
They seem to be emerging from the ground. Short and thick, as unassuming as they are vulnerable. This is how the sculptures of Christien Rijnsdorp (1951) appear. Sometimes they have a trunk, a suction cup, or perhaps it's a genital organ? Arms and heads are usually absent. Although we do not know Rijnsdorp’s archetypal creatures, we unmistakably perceive them as a living species. They clumsily explore the world. However, they are not gloomy. Their forms, postures, and gestures are too humorous for that.
"My sculptures usually arise from astonishment about life or a particular situation," Rijnsdorp explains. In her early years as a sculptor, Rijnsdorp created sculptures from iron wire and painted papier-mâché. These pieces were almost graphic in nature. Balance and equilibrium were key points. By the late 1980s, the first organic creatures emerged, which Rijnsdorp has been making since then. They have a core of foam and a skin of cotton and latex rubber. This skin is dyed dark gray-brown, giving them a worm-like quality. Initially, they were clusters of tuberous creatures huddled together like a herd, but later they developed more animalistic and human traits. In recent works, they increasingly react to the constructed environment they inhabit. Some even perform true circus acts.
For her pedestal sculpture 'De Hef', Rijnsdorp stacked three figures on top of each other. Once again, they lack heads or arms and have barely any torso. From afar, they appear almost as an abstract stack, but up close, details like navels and folds become visible. Together, they form a humorous and seemingly precarious tower. Even in Rijnsdorp’s recent work, balance remains a crucial theme. It’s about the sometimes tiny difference between standing and falling.