Arteles Catalogue 2023-2020
Arteles Creative Center's residency artists and their projects 2023-2020
Arteles Creative Center's residency artists and their projects 2023-2020
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Silence Awareness Existence program / FEBRUARY 2022<br />
Manon Leneveu<br />
Belgium<br />
About<br />
Manon Leneveu (°1998) is a multidisciplinary artist working<br />
and living in Ghent, Belgium. Her work includes drawings,<br />
paintings, installations, and photographs along many other<br />
media. In her drawings; small creatures exist both in both<br />
figurative and abstract forms, alternating between positive<br />
and inverted styles of drawing. In all her work, she tries to<br />
generate a certain intimacy. Some works physically require<br />
taking a closer look (like nose-rubbing or opening a fortune<br />
cookie and eating it afterwards). She processes personal<br />
experiences and emotions by enlarging symbols or creating<br />
a metaphor she finds to represent them - combining elements<br />
from literature, tactile materials, etymologic descriptions,<br />
existential cinema, literature, humour and found objects For<br />
Manon, a simple sentence can inspire a myriad of objects<br />
and drawings after studying the endless web any one thing<br />
carries. Her visual language is inspired by resting her head<br />
on soft objects, dreaming, Astro Boy (1980), the witching<br />
hour and her punk boyfriend.<br />
Crayola beeswax bonanza<br />
It feels like I did nothing but try to let go - or maybe the ice just<br />
wobbled over me as I did on her. I walked in the forest and<br />
cried, read too much Thomas Bernhard which made me sad<br />
and cried a few times more alone, other times with people<br />
just met. A squirrel passed by my tiny room window and lakes<br />
leaked from my blood-shot snow painted eyes. Trees grew<br />
black and sometimes grey. I wanted to bark at the forest - or<br />
spit - to make it spill more than thaw. I thought about burning<br />
the sauna - but other people were already doing that. One<br />
night I cried over the stars with my back towards the Northern<br />
Lights. Rolled over in bed and bumped against its intimate<br />
nook. Scars on trees; like fishbones and moss and soupy<br />
legs. Wiggling on ice felt like an overall exercise in attuning<br />
to slow silver winter. And my room heater lent itself very well<br />
to beeswax molding. My stove room carries my Bernhard<br />
sadness - that is someone else’s now.
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