Hugo Kaagman was born in Haarlem, Holland in 1955.
From 1973 to 1976 he
studied social geography at the University of Amsterdam. Towards the end of the
seventies he got involved in the punk movement; at that time the premises at 62
Sarphatistraat, where he lived and worked up until 1998, were broken into by
squatters. This was the place where in 1977 the Koecrandt, the first punk
newspaper of the Netherlands, was published. In collaboration with others Hugo
Kaagman also set up a number of galleries, including Anus gallery in 1977.
Hugo Kaagman makes stencils of his pictures, mostly traditional motifs from
different cultures, which he then combines to form larger representations. After
initially having sought his inspiration elsewhere, he discovered Holland and
developed his own contemporary version of Delft blue tiles. This Delft blue
publication is a survey of Kaagman’s blue and white period, also known as Kaagware,
and forms just one item from his massive oeuvre. In 1983 Hugo Kaagman received
his first official commission from the municipality of Amsterdam: spraying a
fence in Waterlooplein. In 1987 he painted the entrance to the Tropenmuseum. In
1992 he made his first Delft blue mural: the Eerste Leliedwarsstraat. After this
in 1993 came the most extensive painting until then: a 65-metre-long mural in
the West Terminal of Schiphol Airport. Since then Hugo Kaagman has created a
great many murals at home and abroad.
Iconography
Kaagman made his debut as a painter, not on canvas, but on citywalls . His technique is based upon a touch which is both careless and masterly, cutting of stencils and spraypainting with an airbrush. Out of these elements he conjures a procession of paradoxical configurations, a surreal collection of deft inconsistencies whose effect is all the more figurative because of their familarity. These belong to an iconography commonly referred to as archetypal, to the storehouse mind of the inquisitive child who collects forms from nature and pictures from sweet-packets, and to that body of almost forgotten images from the ancient history lessons of one's schooldays. This procession of images is entirely devoid of hierarchy. Each element takes a turn as the star of theatrical composition with other images laying a supporting roles. There is a constant monumental grandeur with throughout their inherent dramatic suggestion of a threathened paroxysm.
Head Supplies
Spray-can art is characterized by a simple accesible image language. Hugo Kaagman is a spraycan artist: in the early eighties the hoardings and walls of Amsterdam were not safe from his stencilled emblems. On the wall of the Amsterdam Rijksmuseum Kaagman sprayed Vermeer’s milkmaid, so the masterpiece could also be enjoyed, in this popularized version, outside the museum. Since his recent cross over from the street to the neutral gallery space, where he has traded the spray can for the airbrush technique, Kaagman’s interest in ‘the spiritual in art’ has become more pronounced. His canvasses with symmetrical abstractions are head supplies: they provide an effect comparable to that of the mandala which is, in Eastern religions. an aid to meditation. The abstract patterns are inspired by the ornamental art forms which he encounters on visits to the East –as M.C. Escher was influenced by the abstract geomatrical forms of the Moorish mosaics in the Alhambra. Many of Kaagman’s figurative stencil paintings have a symmetrical design and bear witness to his "search" into the world religions ("Coptic crosses"1988). From the four corners of Pisa (1988) identical towers of Pisa point to a cenrtal place where a white cross shines. Text: Martijn van Nieuwenhuyzen, conservator Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam 1990
From
Delft blue to Kaagware
That
our National Treasury holds delftware is a matter of course. After all, this is
a cultural expression that heralded the Dutch Golden Age. What is truly
remarkable is the presence of delftware in the Museum for Modern Art, some four
hundred yards farther. What thrills does delftware have in store today?
The
gap between the ‘Rijks’ and the ‘Stedelijk’ in Amsterdam was bridged in
1992 by visual artist Hugo Kaagman.
Art
history is a weird phenomenon. The previous history of a new art form can reek
strongly of piracy and anarchism.
Around
1600 the oceans witnessed scenes that could be out of a Western. The party that
had the most and the heaviest cannons, was in temporary control of trade. The
story goes that a Portuguese merchantman homeward bound was boarded bloodily by
Dutch Indiamen. The loot consisted of China porcelain, a new-fangled item for
which the wealthy were willing to pay a great deal of money. Even more money,
involving a considerably lower risk, was in store if one imagined manufacturing
the blue and white porcelain at home. However, more than a century would go by
before potters in the northern Netherlands had mastered the technique.
Imitation
was the solution. In Delft a complete industry was set in motion. Tiles and
crockery of common fired clay were provided with opaque tin glazing. Untrained
eyes, but skilled hands subsequently imitated the Chinese porcelain décors with
pigments that coloured blue when the glaze was fired. A new phenomenon was born:
delftware, a souvenir from China, made in
Holland. The Delft blue imitation had acquired the status of authenticity
and had conquered a permanent place in the best rooms of the rich and the middle
classes.
At the end of the 1970s there suddenly stood a vending machine at Spui in
Amsterdam. Art-O-Maat was the name of the contraption and apart from the
stencilled books of poetry and art papers in the machine, the name definitely
referred to the stuff that was stuck onto it: artificial Delft blue of plastic.
This first ‘Delft blue’ work of art by Hugo Kaagman was created during the
heyday of the punk movement. In earlier decades the establishment had learned to
accept that youngsters fought for identities of their own by means of their own
music, fashion and values. Rockers and hippies really paved the way for later
alternative and/or underground styles of living. However, the special thing
about punk was that it was not a subculture, but a parallel culture. There was
no need to overturn the status quo or to improve society. Indeed, there was no
other future - No Future – than the one that was thought out and executed at
that moment. You just took whatever was available and used it for your own
purposes. If you needed accommodation, you squatted in premises owned by a
speculator, and anyone who needed a flat surface to make their visual work
selected a suitable spot in the city.
The
‘damage’ of earlier movements among youngsters could be controlled through
political instruments such as repressive tolerance and commercial strategies
like marketing. Punk, as a parallel culture, did not avail of such stepping
stones to that other society. The mainstream
culture still was blind to the particular aesthetics and also to the spiritual
dimension of punk.
Typical
of any form of art is the disciplined treatment of resources. Art academies are
specialised in the development of that discipline, if need be by dislocating
already acquired artistic practices. Hugo Kaagman, who comes from the
do-it-yourself graffiti scene and studied social geography after which he got
further formation during his world tours, is a self-educated man, though. In
between the Delft blue Art-O-Maat from 1978 and the purchase of a Delft blue
canvas by the Stedelijk Museum in 1992 lies a route found more often with
artists who more or less accidentally bump into a phenomenon, are touched by it,
investigate its roots, get fascinated with its possibilities and gradually
contribute significantly to its further development.
Postmodern conceptualism one might call the Delft blue work by Hugo
Kaagman. All existing representations and motifs can be used, no matter from
what tradition or medium they originate and on what carrier they are applied.
Naturally this may be earthenware, but it may also be a bus or a canvas. A
precondition is that the selection of those images takes place in accordance
with a specific concept and that the new image does not become a meaningless
incoherent combination of pictures.
This is why Kaagman proceeds with great caution. He knows or investigates
the origin of each visual element that he uses. A prolonged stay in North Africa,
the Balkans, Japan, the two Americas and the Caribbean Islands, as well as
intensive excursions to Marken and Volendam, have resulted in a gigantic archive
of authentic icons, motifs and landmarks. Comic books, TV, film and a weekly
ration of magazines provide him with pictures that have already been processed
by others.
As
a result, it is without any apparent effort that Kaagman switches from a
Japanese portrait (how do we perceive Japan?) to a comment on news items (what
is the context of the Daytona agreements?), and from a silent witness (Johnny
Jordaan lives on) to an utterly decorative assembly of oriental motifs.
Here
we arrive at the specific artistry of Hugo Kaagman. Other postmodern
conceptualists see a new image arise while painting or photo-shopping, no matter
how closely they stick to their archive material and their sketched design.
Every painterly solution, aesthetic choice or artistic gesture immediately
produces a change in the picture on the canvas or on the computer screen. The
accidental visitor to the studio can follow that process and a trained observer
of art can distinguish it afterwards.
Kaagman also has to find solutions and make choices. It goes without
saying that he rearranges visual elements until the last moment, or that he
creates new components that are more suited. Yet he must first achieve the full
graphic impact of each element before it can finally fall into place.
Hugo
Kaagman works with stencils. With an incredibly steady hand he guides his cutter
along the most diverging curves and around delicately minute details. Whatever
has been cut away may serve to cover something during the spraying operation,
but it may also form an opening in the stencil through which the sprayed paint
finds its way to the canvas or the carrier. The stencilling of Kaagman, his
technique, style and choice of subjects are blended entirely. With each and
every cut the very first question is: what is essential for this visual element,
from what does this ordinary picture derive its specific visual power? What
makes it a strong icon, where is it reduced to a mere cliché?
The
power of concentration mustered by Kaagman during this fully synchronised manual
and brain activity is enormous. Alternating Jamaican Reggae, computer versions
of it, Tante Leen and Johnny Jordaan bring Kaagman closer to the roots
of the motifs that he is working on at that moment. Hands-on
spirituality.
Depending
on the eventual work-in-progress, a number of seemingly less intensive actions
ensues. The exact place of each visual element must be determined. This is
attained by turning them this way and that, especially with repetitive motifs
like a circular decorative edge.
Apart
from rare exceptions Kaagman sprays his own work. For a canvas of several square
metres he does not need any assistance. For the five recent murals that each
covered twenty-five square metres in Sarajevo, scaffolders and an assistant were
contracted. Even then it remains a three-week struggle at a height of twelve
metres with temperatures rising above forty degrees Celsius.
Hugo
Kaagman has drawn from his earliest childhood on. He has great dexterity with
graphic computer software. Still, he usually prefers sampling,
collecting existing images. The true creative process comes after this. In his
work Kaagman bridges the gap between low
culture and high art. There are
no meaningless images and everything has a message: both the clandestine mural
on the famous Zebra house and the free work exhibited in galleries as well as
the commissions.
If
there is one thing the artist does not want anything to do with, it is the
official art history of the 1980s and 1990s. It is about the self-generating
aspect of art and has nothing whatsoever to do with the visual perception of the
world. There were exceptions: Rob Scholte has given a fair share of ironic
comment and Keith Haring cleared the way for good graffiti.
Otherwise it is mainly older, already deceased colleagues that appeal to
Kaagman: Dali with his brilliant humour and Escher with his ingenious aesthetics.
If Kaagman had been born earlier, art history would probably have classified him
under Pop Art. He does with Delft blue what Roy Liechtenstein did with printed
media: have another very close look at it, establish that the phenomenon has
degenerated to absolute kitsch and detach the bogged-down visual means from the
old medium. High art.
The
history of Delft blue is not finished with this, however. Kaagman has liberated
a stagnating phenomenon from its restrictions. Anyone who monitors this part of
his oeuvre will see that the development is by no means over. Other sections of
his work (computer graphics and animations, paintings and graffiti, ceramics and
installations, polychrome murals and industrial applications) also testify to
the expansion of the visual arsenal. Through his stencilling technique Hugo
Kaagman has added Delft blue to the universally usable visual means.
Nevertheless one can still recognise the Netherlands in it.
Ron
Miltenburg
Prof. Malcolm Mc.Lulhan says:" This is the time to let the man do his thing !".
Enrich your life, by enjoying art,, enjoy your environment, I change the most poor place into a palace !! Don't hesistate, Phone now: 0(031)651483623