jelly belly Painting

Casper Verborg (Lobith, 1981) graduated from ArtEZ Arnhem in 2003. In 2013 he finished his master of arts education at the KASK in Gent (Belgium). The Prins Berhard Cultuurfonds awarded him in 2016 with the Sieger White Award. In 2017 Museum Arnhem dedicated a solo exhibition to his works. As a result of this exhibition the monography ‘The pink elephant’ appeared. Pieces of canvas that have been sanded or left blank, a clearly visible brushstroke, and paint drips: Casper Verborg’s paintings are alive. Verborg has developed an idiosyncratic palette with characteristic colors in unexpected combinations. Cheerful at first sight, but at second thought more alarming, toxic even—like that irresistible piece of candy that is actually of chemical substance. Verborg’s handling of color perfectly matches the ambiguity of the image. Whereas in an earlier stage there appeared groups of figures in enigmatic interiors, meanwhile the scenes have changed and the paintings gained a different focus. Theatrical processions thinned out to just a few characters while the background gained prominence—more explicitly present yet more abstract, and thus more universal. In recent paintings the image can be read as interior or exterior, but also as forest, architecture, or oil stain. The later paintings are freed from narrative while the image gained more breathing space. The painted figures, facing up to sublime and often threatening nature, are as anonymous as they are recognizable. Transcending the individual, they do not stand for themselves but humanity. Even the well-known figures of Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump cannot prevent that feeling. Depicted relatively small on a large diptych, surrounded by an abstract landscape and flanked by a big yellow gorilla, they have become two random men atop the monkey rock, yet stripped away from their power. In the interplay of figuration and abstraction, recognition and alienation, a self-portrait of the painter as archetype proves a key piece. Fluttering shapes derived from the leaves of a studio plant assume a life of their own, in contrast to recognizable elements such as a carpet or a chair. These shapes put up a barrier between image and spectator, as disturbing elements placing themselves in front of the depiction, complicating the viewing process. Thus there rises an inevitable and growing desire to view past them, to view one’s way through the foliage and discover the parallel universe beyond.