finding clarity in ambiguity with romy buquet
Romy Buquet is a painter based in Ghent who also works with sculptures, installations, drawings, and collages to create paradise-like landscapes that reference the human body.
Almost all of Romy’s works arise from the tension between matter and illusion, between what is made and what seems to appear without intervention. Her use of fluorescent paint and lacquer coating gives her pieces a bold and distinct personality, but the figures she depicts are often blurry, almost ghostly. Everything and everyone is ambiguous and in the making.
Perhaps this duality is a mirror of her personality. As a visual all-rounder of our team, Romy is expressive but grounded, imaginative but pragmatic. Joining us on board, she dug through her archive and picked eight works that best represent our moods in store.
discover romy's interpretations
I dedicate this painting to my twin sister. We go all the way back in the womb. All the magical things that have happened there I have never really forgotten. My body still remembers it, like a dream. So how do I escape the dream and enter reality? I sometimes cut into my paintings. As I cut into my painting, I cut my way through my dream reality, until a new one appears.
I dedicate this painting to my twin sister. We go all the way back in the womb. All the magical things that have happened there I have never really forgotten. My body still remembers it, like a dream. So how do I escape the dream and enter reality? I sometimes cut into my paintings. As I cut into my painting, I cut my way through my dream reality, until a new one appears.
Is the paradise made by human hands a construct or is it an almost immaterial image that was not created by human hands? The archaic figures in combination with the spray paint make my work a little ghostly. Something that appears and disappears throughout history.
Is the paradise made by human hands a construct or is it an almost immaterial image that was not created by human hands? The archaic figures in combination with the spray paint make my work a little ghostly. Something that appears and disappears throughout history.
We’re walking into the jungle of Colombia for three days now. I sit next to you on a rock, all wet from taking a swim. Suddenly a gigantic leaf is falling all the way from the tops of the trees and then it finally meets the water. We’re both silent for a few minutes. I ask you if you’ve seen it. Of course you did. That leaf is still falling through my work, and I am waiting for the right moment to ask you whether you've seen it.
We’re walking into the jungle of Colombia for three days now. I sit next to you on a rock, all wet from taking a swim. Suddenly a gigantic leaf is falling all the way from the tops of the trees and then it finally meets the water. We’re both silent for a few minutes. I ask you if you’ve seen it. Of course you did. That leaf is still falling through my work, and I am waiting for the right moment to ask you whether you've seen it.
Cutouts and stencils enter, mark, and leave my paintings in a very spontaneous way. They show the painting as a result of certain actions and they clearly indicate the steps that have been taken throughout the process. As a cutout repeats itself, it changes meaning. Just as a cloud can also be a pool of water, everyone and everything is ambiguous and in a stage of becoming.
Cutouts and stencils enter, mark, and leave my paintings in a very spontaneous way. They show the painting as a result of certain actions and they clearly indicate the steps that have been taken throughout the process. As a cutout repeats itself, it changes meaning. Just as a cloud can also be a pool of water, everyone and everything is ambiguous and in a stage of becoming.
I often refer to bathers in my painting. The water in which they swim is the same wetness of my paint. I like to work with this wet material. It's so different from all the dry material we're surrounded with on a daily basis. In paradise, there is also always the water. Life descends from this water.
I often refer to bathers in my painting. The water in which they swim is the same wetness of my paint. I like to work with this wet material. It's so different from all the dry material we're surrounded with on a daily basis. In paradise, there is also always the water. Life descends from this water.
My paintings are sometimes nothing more than stains, spots, and smudges. Somewhat like the Vera Icon or the Shroud of Turin. Their arrangements result in an image of a utopian world. Following the darkest blacks in this painting feels like you’re running in the field by yourself.
My paintings are sometimes nothing more than stains, spots, and smudges. Somewhat like the Vera Icon or the Shroud of Turin. Their arrangements result in an image of a utopian world. Following the darkest blacks in this painting feels like you’re running in the field by yourself.
When I am on a boat, I always get carried away by the shadow play of the sailors. I think we must never forget that even our own shadows have no defined shape. Just like our history, it changes all the time.
When I am on a boat, I always get carried away by the shadow play of the sailors. I think we must never forget that even our own shadows have no defined shape. Just like our history, it changes all the time.
The composition of this painting makes your eyes wander around, just like how I imagine the swans to move around the body of water. The edges of my paintings are of great importance, especially to this one, where it’s the center of the painting. The line captures your eyes and holds them for a moment. This leaves space for introspection.
The composition of this painting makes your eyes wander around, just like how I imagine the swans to move around the body of water. The edges of my paintings are of great importance, especially to this one, where it’s the center of the painting. The line captures your eyes and holds them for a moment. This leaves space for introspection.
