As the name suggests, visual art is primarily concerned with images. Nevertheless, art catalogues contain a wealth of text. This text is rarely read and merely serves as packaging or filler for the images. It is akin to sawdust in a porcelain box, plastic wrap around a glossy magazine, or flour in a croquette: subordinate and subservient.
Modesty and a sense of perspective therefore seem appropriate. This introduction is therefore limited to an insight behind the scenes: a record of facts that are usually hidden from third parties, but which reflect the processes within an artists’ initiative.
It is often the details, the apparent trivialities and petites histoires that set the tone for a successful initiative, shaping its character and giving it a face. This is reflected in the debates that take place.

The space in Kampen.

After the owner announced that the previous premises — a spacious floor above the main post office, offering views of the IJssel River and the medieval city centre — had to be vacated, an intensive search for a suitable alternative began.
The shortlist included an unused petrol station, an abandoned dance school, and two listed buildings, but ultimately, the decision was made to move into a wing of Almere College, made available by the municipality at a rent equivalent to the subsidies granted.
As the art space was considerably reduced, every square metre had to be used efficiently. Thanks to ingenuity, patience, and a large skip, the move was successfully completed. There they were, on the edge of the old town, with a small field in front of the door where the grass grew reluctantly, and hundreds of screaming teenagers in another part of the building. Even the most experienced art lover would be reluctant to embark on an expedition to this location.
Converting part of an old school into a well-equipped exhibition space was not easy. A former entrance hall — a high, square vestibule with two large doors — was converted into an office, meeting room and computer room. Nevertheless, this space had a certain atmosphere, particularly thanks to the rich decoration of the doors and ceiling. They dated from a time before plasterers could use their mobile phones to ask their wives which nappies to buy for their children.
Next to the office was the showroom, consisting of two classrooms with large windows that had been knocked through. These let in plenty of light and offered a good view of the lawn and the final public stage of various dog breeds’ digestive processes. A door in the side wall led to a long corridor spanning one floor. This was often used as a storage room, kitchen, and guest room. At some point, a television and video recorder were set up on the outer wall of this room. This created a video wall on which videos could be shown during exhibition hours. In the room in front of it — i.e. on the audience side of the video wall — a few chairs were set up. It was very cosy there, especially after meetings when tapes received were viewed.

The space in Berlin.

As if one location wasn’t enough, a courageous delegation braved the winter cold in 1995 to search for accommodation for a foreign branch in the fledgling capital city. Armed with a generous supply of alcohol to keep them warm, they achieved their goal.
They found part of a building in an inner courtyard with a beautiful brick gate. The intoxicating beverage seemed to have had little effect on their critical judgement. In the years that followed, the neighbourhood around the art space developed into the cultural heart of Berlin-Mitte, becoming a prime location. However, even in this new location, there was still much to be done. The window frames were surrounded by large holes. The walls exposed layers revealing the building’s entire history, and the flooring was mostly dust and rubbish. There was electricity, but any attempt to use it resulted in a shower of sparks that regularly blew the staff’s fuses.
A small kitchen was assembled from items sourced from local flea markets and tools were procured. Sometimes, filling material and cement had to be carried kilometres on foot. However, the effort was worth it. After several work sessions, the space was ready to use.
The three rooms that made up Kunstruimte Berlin were considerably larger than those in Kampen. This led to solutions that would never have been developed otherwise, which helped shape the character of the Berlin exhibitions. The initially prevailing ‘half-finished’ atmosphere was retained. Consequently, the art space became a striking ‘foreign body’ among the pristine exhibition spaces where the paintbrush reigned supreme. After just a few openings, it had secured its place in the cultural pecking order.
The Kunstruimte Berlin was particularly crowded during the so-called ‘Rundgänge’, when various institutions coordinated the openings of their exhibitions.
The rush was also fuelled by curiosity about the Dutch craftsmanship that borders on mastery and was used to brew the donated beer.

Financial resources.

The sun doesn’t rise for free, but it does set again. For an initiative to be successful, it needs money — and lots of it. Taking one step back is harder than taking five steps forward.
What began years ago as a low-budget initiative, with employees picking the beans for their own coffee whenever possible, gradually developed into a thriving business where coffee was roasted, ground, packaged and delivered by the kilo.
Over the years, demands grew and ambitions had to be met. More and better printing materials were needed. Overhead costs rose. The computer equipment used became more modern and extensive. Artists were paid higher fees. In addition, the Berlin branch was added, necessitating travel and rental costs.
As most of the artworks on display were either not for sale or unsaleable, and income from sponsorship and donations was insufficient, money had to come from elsewhere.
Fortunately, when it comes to art, people in this country are happy to support plans and ideas that can be implemented.
As a rule, some money is then made available for this purpose. If an application is extensive and its content remains rather cryptic even after repeated reading, there is a good chance it will be approved. Thus, many impressive projects were funded in exchange for a full bank account.

The working group.

The main goal of this institution, which presents site-specific, non-commercial, experimental art, has not yet been finalised. In fact, that is when the real work begins. A strategic plan must be drawn up and implemented. This requires people to carry it out.
These are not easy to find, as there are no temporary employment agencies for employees of artistic initiatives. In addition, the working conditions are poor. There is no salary, no company car, no 13th month’s salary, and not even a Christmas bonus. By today’s standards, you would have to be crazy to sacrifice your time for this.
Fortunately, there have always been such ‘mad people’.
They often appeared spontaneously and didn’t even have to be sought out. The composition of the group of employees continued to evolve.
Often, one could sense when the balance in terms of composition or size had been lost.
In such cases, we would seek to expand, or members would leave the group. This was possible without any problems, as there were no statutory restrictions on the composition of the working group. Although no one was officially appointed, everyone had a vote, regardless of their background or length of service. However, this way of working also had its difficulties.
One striking feature of the art space was that there were hardly any. Differences of opinion and personality conflicts were always ‘absorbed’ collectively. Unique? I don’t know, but it is certainly remarkable, especially over such a long period of time. This largely explains the initiative’s strength, its unity towards the outside world, and the joy that usually emanated from it.
Implementing the formulated policy meant that artists had to be selected in a well-founded manner that aligned with the theme or motto defined in the annual programme. Working group members could propose specific candidates or select artists who had applied for a place on the programme based on the documents they had submitted. These were then put to a vote, with detailed discussion taking place in cases of doubt or major disagreement.
As a rule, however, decisions were made fairly unanimously. Conversely, many discussions led to a negative decision. As the art space became better known and more candidates applied, the selection process became more challenging.
A large part of the decision-making process took place during the biweekly Thursday evening meetings, which were both social and substantive highlights within the Kunstraum system. These meetings were always followed by lengthy discussions, either on site or at other venues. Certain decisions were discussed, analysed or criticised ‘off the record’, often leading to new insights and perspectives.
A separate group emerged in Berlin. Collaborating with this group made it clear that modern means of communication are not always beneficial, humour is not universal, perishable goods should not be sent by Deutsche Post and beautiful exhibitions are still possible.
Throughout, the formal board of the foundation remained in the background. It kept itself informed about events a few times a year and did not interfere in the artistic work; its main role was to solve problems. The board members approached their task with commitment and enthusiasm. In retrospect, they cannot comprehend why they agreed to do this, especially since their task was usually even more thankless.

The result of the exhibitions.

Once the exhibitors, dates and title had been finalised, the designer was commissioned to create an invitation that reflected the project’s atmosphere, in consultation with the artists if desired. It was customary for the invitation to also serve as a poster. This led to a recognisable house style, partly because the same designer was used throughout the years.
Sending out the invitations was one of the most distinctive aspects of Kunstruimte. The traditionally late dispatch of the printed matter was handled by the entire working group. Those who were available folded, counted and glued the invitations, fuelled by biscuits and coffee, until the parcels were sent out. There were usually two weeks between this point and the opening. During this time, the artists had the opportunity to install their works.
Their working methods varied greatly depending on the project. Some artists had prepared everything in their studios and ‘only’ had to transport their work and set it up. Others had to produce most of their work on site, often using ‘local’ materials. Consequently, the amount of time spent working in the Kunstruimte itself varied from an afternoon to several weeks. This resulted in close relationships being formed with some of the artists. They stayed in the ‘guest wing’, used the staff showers and washing machines, ate with the staff, visited their favourite pubs, exchanged recipes, and broke plates, glasses, and hearts. Some of them returned regularly.
The highlight of each exhibition was the vernissage. This usually took place on a Saturday afternoon. The range of events varied from small gatherings with just a few people and a horse’s head, to lively parties where visitors jostled for space. A golden rule was to provide clearly audible background music or an unmissable performance. This rendered the obligatory welcome speeches, which often resembled secular sermons, superfluous, and established a clear ‘head’ for the exhibition, while the ‘tail’ emerged of its own accord once the beer ran out. It also kept visitors pleasantly occupied.
The shows by Willie Beckmans were unforgettable, leaving no one unscathed, as was the concert by ‘The Songs That Cannot Stand’, a Berlin group whose sound, on closer inspection, seems to have been the main reason for the collapse of the Berlin Wall.

The end. The future:

The year 1998, the last year of Kunstruimte, was very different from previous years. One important reason for this was the hiring of four permanent employees. Funding was provided by government agencies whose names changed every quarter. The employees seemed to be constantly shuffled around and were therefore unreachable.
Nevertheless, providing four jobs was a welcome solution as it was becoming increasingly difficult to find volunteers to ensure the continuity of the art space.
However, one consequence of this was that tasks that had previously been carried out by the entire working group were now largely performed by a small group. This did not encourage commitment from the unpaid staff.
It was commendable that they continued to work, but it was also important given their role in the decision-making process and their function as a sounding board for new ideas. Above all, they were the foundation for the future. It soon became clear that three of the four permanent employees could only be hired for one year, and that most of the ‘old’ working group members wanted to pursue other opportunities afterwards. By the summer of 1998, Kunstruimte appeared to be entering its final six months. Fortunately, the death rattle slowly turned into baby babbling as new plans were set in motion. A dormant idea for a virtual art space was revived.
The Kunstruimte website will give artists the opportunity to showcase their work. The necessary computer equipment and expertise are in place. The start looks promising.
Alongside this, a steadily growing working group called ‘KRA’ is developing an unconventional programme for the future. The aim is to collaborate with the art academy to some extent. The art space could be used as a guest studio, enabling different artists to respond to each other’s work.
In addition, people are being approached to organise exhibitions. Short-term events, known as ‘artitainments’, are also being planned. Furthermore, there are plans to publish a regular magazine to support these activities.
It therefore seems likely that this catalogue will not be the last sign of life from Kunstruimte Kampen.

Geraart Westerink

*iHailing from Kampen, Geraart Westerink is a multifaceted individual: an art historian with a passion for urban history, a dedicated poet with a light touch, and a visual artist who seamlessly blends visual art and poetry. His work integrates research, language and artistic expression, and is always deeply rooted in his hometown of Kampen.

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This article was originally published as a foreword in the Kunstruimte Kampen/Berlin catalogue ‘Hondertnegentwintig Kunstenaars/Vierentwintig Projecten’ in 1999. Translation from Dutch: Oliver Baurhenn