Saying goodbye to ALIVE MATTER by Nadine Baldow
Recently, we had the pleasure of welcoming Nadine Baldow, as well as her exhibition ALIVE MATTER in the main gallery. She shares with us various ways in which she has found a sense of equilibrium: diving deep and then stepping back, grounding herself in both nature and the ecosystem she has cultivated in the studio, and challenging herself by managing the seemingly unmanageable.
‘Hi – I am Nadine. I am building large scale-sculptures that come into existence afterextensive Landscape Investigation. I am eager to understand “nature” and “culture” are impacting each other in a certain place. During the residency at Eastern Edge, I had the chance to spent six weeks dedicating myself wholeheartedly to what I love most: walking, observing, collecting, investigating a landscape with all my senses – trying to get to its very core.’
THE HUNT FOR BONES
“My proposal for the residency and the exhibition linked to it was called “ALIVE MATTER” – a concept for an exhibition where I would work with local materials that are alive, such as fungi and plants. The first material I was drawn to where bones. The whole city seemed to be full of it. I truly believe we find in landscape what is already hidden in our mind. Bones everywhere I went. There is something about our perception, that I find highly interesting: If we start searching for something, our focus narrows to that one thing. Everything becomes irrelevant, except of that one thing we are looking for. I never arrived in the studio at the time I planned for, because I would get lost being drawn from one bone to another. It didn’t take long until I understood that the bones are linked to the activities of the birds. Gulls and crows are feeding from the leftovers of human waste. By taking the bones, I felt like the observer of a weird ecosystem, where the activities of birds became entangled with human behavior. Many times I mistook similarly shaped objects for bones. Objects that trolled me where white bits of cable, bony branches and plastic shreds. It was the time of the year that locals call “Dirty Old Town Season”. My fun of searching for these urban bones came to an abrupt ending, when a large street cleaning car arrived one night and took them all away. The Dirty Old Town Season came to an end and I took it as a sign to find joy elsewhere.”
THE CAR
“Usually, I limit the space of my Landscape Investigation to walkable distance around my “base” – which is my studio. It helps that the energy level in my body goes up as soon as I am arriving in a new place. I need to walk walk walk – take everything in like a sponge. In this case the map of the Avalon Peninsula looked too tempting and mysterious – so I
decided to rent cars on and off whenever it was feasible. I stumbled over the advertisement “You click – we pick” of Alamo Rentals, and got so excited about the great price, that I didn’t think twice. When I arrived at the airport to pick up my rental, the guy behind the counter looked at me with confusion: “You are traveling alone?”. I almost shit into my pants when I saw the “car” that I got: In Germany we would call this a spaceship. My underlying fear of driving bubbled up. When I got my driver’s license my mother would tell me repeatedly that I was too confused to operate a car safely. Even though the logical part of my brain refuses to take this as a fact, a part of me believes that I am just pretending to be able to operate a vehicle. This has never proven true, still the belief is hard to shake off. The great thing about art is, that it becomes better, more vulnerable, more brave, more sharp when one operates slightly outside of your comfort zone. With this thought on my mind, I entered my spaceship and slowly left St. John’s airport parking lot with shaking legs. My nervousness quickly transformed into excitement with every windy cliff I discovered. The car would bring me to places that were remote and despite its size it filled up quickly with the materials I collected. In April, the tourist season wasn’t even close and most of the hiking trails near the coastline were not desirable for the average good weather hiker. The coastline presented itself with muddy slopes interrupted by patches of thick layers of untouched snow. I absolutely live for the feeling of finding a remote spot on the map, and then walking until the landscape engulfs you with its vast solitude (…)”
THE STUDIO
“While the studio filled up with all sorts of materials – bones, lobster tanks, branches, salt, feathers, wings – my confusion grew. It is part of my process that while I am on my field- trips, the pressure in the studio and inside of me builds up. One has to endure the tension, the confusion and the chaos in order to develop a vibrant work. A lot of the processes in my studio involved water and salt. The objects had to be moved and cared for constantly. My collection of powerful objects and materials grew every day. It grew to a point that made it almost unmanageable to keep it under control. It was a delicate dance between chaos and order. Luckily, I went to the studio every day – or night. I had tricked myself into taking care for a large collection of mosses. The mosses I found on the Avalon Peninsula need a moist environment at all times – so I had a pet that would lure me to the studio.”
THE SHOW
“Installing the show ALIVE MATTER in the Main Gallery was as exciting as it was exhausting – the whole process was shaped by my desire to expand my boundaries as an artist. I was pretty nervous as I had tested some sculptural ideas in the studio, but I had no idea in which shape the final work would evolve. The only things I knew for sure that I would bring the bones on the wall in a certain order, that I had figured out in countless trials on two fabrics and that the sculpture would need to fill the space. The realization that it was a pretty consuming process to bring all those kissed bones to the wall with nails came quickly. Repetitive. Mentally draining. Physically exhausting- but had to be done. The activity reminded me of my trips driven by my the ambition to see the very last cliff of a remote fjord or the mountain behind the mountain behind the mountain. I was aware that it was a bad idea but I wouldn’t turn around anyways. There is this constant need to challenge myself, that fuels my expeditions and my works. I love to built sculptures that are bigger than me, that almost consume the space. When they give me a similar sensation of “being in a landscape”, I know I am on the right path. So I had both – the repetitive sensation like walking for a long time and the awe of exploring something bigger than myself.”
THANK YOU
‘My heartfelt thanks go to the whole team of Eastern Edge. You have been patient, supportive, disrupted my train of thoughts with your joyful laughters, and gave me the space to be me. I am glad to get to know each of your unique and colorful personalities. I would like to thank Ashley, my wonderful host, who made me feel at home immediately and went on crazy material hunts with me. I truly miss your vibrant spirits and I am sure we will meet again! Thank you Ambre, for showing up at the perfect time, to support my process and to discuss the world with me during our cigarette breaks. I am thrilled that I got to know Pam Hall and her amazing work – thank you for all the powerful objects and the nurturing discussion we had. My brain is still processing! Thank you for everyone whovisited me in the studio, equipped me with bones and your stories.
<3
🙂
…see you soon!”
