Synopsis
My work is a visualisation of an ongoing investigation into the essence of natural pigments from (local) stones and earths. Painting for me begins and ends with the earth.
The process of searching for raw materials and making paint comprises a large part of my work as an artist. As I observe a new landscape, I always look for raw materials.
The paintings and drawings I create with the soil reveal the subtlety and natural appearance of the Earth's colour palette.
In my work, I strive to capture the genius loci - literally, ‘the spirit of a place’. The memories and stored images of my exploration of the landscape are reflected in the works I create. They are markings and notes that reveal themselves through the paint on the canvas.
Layer by layer an imaginary landscape is created. I try not to force the landscape, but to let it come to me through the paint.
Each region's earth colour is unique and one of a kind. Working with only local materials and the restrictions of the colour palette is key. I believe that working with scarcity and rarity contributes to a better connection with our planet and its resources.
Through the succession of different layers of paint, structures and textures form. This transforms the canvas into a landscape in an almost physical way, rather then just creating an image of it. The landscape is literally created by layering different types of soil. This creates an unique landscape that refers to the location where the earth pigments were mined.
The paint film that I’m looking for is often matte and expresses the subtlety of self-made paints, like casein and punic wax. The final image shouldn’t be too focused. This diffuse representation creates a poetic character.
For me, the landscape is always the subject of my work, even in abstract works. Rather than a backdrop of a tableau, it is a defining dimension; it is nature itself that is the main character in my work.
A Pigment pilgrim
In a sense, the process of searching for pigments is a pilgrimage. It's a way that allows me to feel connected to the sublime. The pigments I mine from the "everyday" material of earth never cease to amaze me.
The process of searching for pigments and making paint from it is an age-old phenomenon. I see this method as a major component of my work as a visual artist. It evokes feelings of respect, ritual, connection with the Earth, and original purity.
It fosters a sense of reverence, long held in pre-colonial cultures, for the mineral ‘being’ - the inextricable interconnectedness of everything around us.
Embodied landscape
My work is all about landscapes, their atmospheres and their interaction with our feelings. I like to create spaces on canvas where the observer can go into a place of silence, of stillness, reaching a space of connection beyond the confines of temporality.
The landscape confronts me with an experience beyond material comfort, status, and ego. It connects me to true presence, a homecoming. Home to the elements we open out of our ‘space suit ego self’ * and regain access to natural knowledge. WE ARE NATURE.
Within a landscape everything is what it is. Our human drive and our pursuit for 'more' dissolves within it.
As a child, I loved to wander around in nature, and being in nature still evokes a child-like sense of wonder in me. I love to collect and observe in the landscape and in doing so I come into a state of flow. This flow is a different perception of time passing by, the same flow which may arise during the painting process. This inner time experience, the more authentic time experience, presents itself when I let go of the ‘persuing’ and become more aware of the ‘being’. I just love that feeling, being taken by nature’s flow. These close
moments of merging with the surrounding offer me comfort and remind me of the non-dualistic.
For me the land embraces everything, the dark and the light, all duality it played out to connect you to the deeper understandings and teachings of nature. ‘The forest knows where you are’ * It connects us with it all ; to our larger being ; our larger belonging.
In Western cultures nature has no mystic sense anymore. We have positioned ourselves above nature and behave almost as if we are opposites. Repositioning our understanding of our relationship with nature, seeing ourselves as one big organism of life, is the quest that we are on right now.
As an artist I try to paint places that contribute to a feeling of oneness with nature. In the process of making a landscape I work with a loose paint touch, so new irrational things can happen on the canvas. I do not know in advance what a painting will look like.
Gestures emerge in the layering of the paint, which I accentuate, gradually creating more figurative elements. Layer upon layer, earth-pigment over earth-pigment, the landscape is formed. In this way, my paintings are a collaboration with the Earth’s pigments.
Colour
The oldest paints used by human beings were made from earth pigments. Earth pigments have been used in body decoration, rituals and painting since early humanity. Rocks and
minerals were an important way to connect with Mother Earth.
In my work the material Earth is the main character. The colour range that the earth provides absolutely fascinates me. I love the subtle nuances of natural colours in contrast with the colours of our flashy society.
It’s only since the industrial revolution that colours are made artificially. With that the history and knowledge of the material of colour is completely gone.
Nowadays we live in an environment of synthetic colours. Daily we are confronted with an immense amountof manmade colours and on top of that, the colours of our screens.
Our perception and sense of colour have changed due to the abundance of chemical and digital colours. Bright colours, once so valuable and full of stories, meaning and spirit, are now easily available. They used to be made out of gemstones or using difficult procedures from plants and animals. We seem to have become so used to the cheaply abundant synthetic colours that we have come to overlook the more nuanced earth tones.
Red nowadays is only red when shiny and bright. But there is a wide window of reds going on in the earth colour spectrum. Our eyes are designed to perceive the subtle colour differences of nature. For centuries, this way of perceiving has enabled us to read our surroundings, and I think the observation of these natural tones of the earth evokes a sense of stillness and softness because of this. We are brought back to a perception of colour that feels so natural to us. I believe that the perception of natural colours appeals to something truly human.
For me there is a deeper metaphor in the beauty of earth pigments. It all starts with the process of slowing down, looking for natural pigments and gathering them on-site. In my atelier I have to work with the restrictions of the scarcity of colours. This allows me to take a more minimalistic view on working with the material. With that comes the awareness about reducing my need for more, brighter, bigger.
Around 2017, pushed by my need to create more tangible interactions with colour, I started to mine my own pigment. Colours gained a deeper meaning and value for me because of this new intimate way of collecting them.
It feels very different working with a self-collected palette. I have built up a story with them; from finding them on-site, to taking them home and processing them myself, and finally the magical moment of seeing them as paint on a canvas. This way of working gives me so much joy, comparable to foraging in the forest - the taste of meals made from self-picked ingredients is always full of the whole experience.
Over the years I have become more and more receptive to the sensitive differences of the earth tones, and therefore more amazed by colour itself. I hope I can somehow contribute to a wider revaluation of these natural colours.
Something in me wants to restore the unique value of colour. Every mined pigment is unique in its kind. An ochre from a specific place in France will never have the same amount of oxides as another ochre 50km away. The colour is dependent on the place where the pigment is mined and is therefore site-specific. This place-boundness gives me the opportunity to represent the place in its own colours.
The genius loci ‘spirit of the place’ can be represented by its own pigments, ‘matter and spirit’. To me, it feels like a round story, a coherent circle.
Paint
Making my own paint brought me closer to the material. I find it regrettable that most people nowadays don’t know what they are actually painting with. What is the consistency of the paint? What is the colour made of? These are the questions I like the ponder and which inform my work.
Paint has a long history marked by rarity, trade, and status. A painter before 1850 used to know and had to know how to make their own paint. There was no ready made paint available in the stores. Many recipes and different binders were used to obtain specific optics. Some artists are still known for their secret, undiscovered paint recipes.
Across all industries, there seems to me to be an increasing distance between the consumer and the materials used in the products with which they are interacting. We are consuming more and connecting less.
I believe that we should be looking for a return to an emotional relationship with materials; a healthier relationship in my opinion.This is fundamentally why I started making my own paints.
In my search to get closer to what paint actually is, in 2015 I decided to study old painting techniques. During that study I learnt about recipes and experimented with old paints in new combinations. I discovered many paints that I never knew of before, like tempera grassa, punic wax and temperone.
The search for the perfect paint is still an ongoing and experimental path. It can be frustrating sometimes but mostly it is very satisfying to be a paint maker.
The process of adding certain binder to the pigment and mixing them is a lovely feeling. Every student that I teach to make paint is impacted by this satisfying sensory experience. It has been there throughout all of human history, I think it is probably in our DNA.
Sentence from the poem ‘lost’ from David Wagoner
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Publications
This is COLOUR
“Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty if only we have the eyes to see them.”
― John Ruskin
Can the color of a rock in the alpine range match with that of the volcanic stones of Tenerife? When does brown becomes red? How many gradations of yellow our eyes are capable to appreciate? Are they endless?
Scientifically, color is understood as the visual translation that a human brain makes of the electromagnetic waves reflected by a corporal element. For Marloes Meijburg, colors are matter and dust, nature and landscape. A traveler, geologist and collector, the Dutch artist gathers stones and rocks and then grind them into powder that she carefully stores in glass tubes. In "This is color", she investigates the spectrum of local colors from Les Guilleries Natural Park. On the canvases, we find sandy tones that go from yellow to vermilion; mahogany, copper, sienna, cuttlefish and orange browns, blue, whitish and ashen gray.
Marloes Meijburg limits the chromatic range to observe its infinity and thus discover that, as soon as you gaze a color, it seems to be multiplying. If the rapid movement of the screens smudges the colors, soil and stone pigments are opaque and dull, as if they still remember the rock they once were. And it’s in that heaviness where, as spectators, we find the placidity of the return to nature and the beauty of moderation and aridity.
Painting is more than painting: it is an act of devotion that completes a cycle begun millennium ago. As if with this transcendent gesture, Marloes wanted to say: "I promise that everything will be fine. I'll take you to a better place. To the place of art, to the place of poetry. With me you won’t be a simple rock anymore".
Gisela Chillida, art writer and independent curator 2019