Lieuwe van Gogh: "Knallen, knallen en de rest boeit niet"

He is not an artist of nuance or neat inner lines. His work is explosive, his stories as uninhibited as his brushstrokes. Lieuwe van Gogh (Amsterdam, 1991) on grief, recklessness, the untamable urge to create… and the resemblance to his great-great-great-uncle from Brabant. “Admittedly, I am not ginger, but we have the same high jawline.”

The shadow of November 2nd

Is the name Van Gogh more of a gift, a burden, or a task for you?

“In the Netherlands I live in two shadows, in the rest of the world in just one. At first it was a burden, because people are quick to put you in a box. In the beginning, I was sometimes criticized online. That also served as a drive to work extra hard – Fuck it, I'll show youBut now I also see the advantage of the name: in the art scene, it is more than good PR.”

What do you remember about November 2, 2004?

In the classroom, I heard the shots fired at my father. But I try to think about it as little as possible, because it only brings up aggression. The way of commemorating him then becomes picking fights with people on the street anyway.

How has the loss of your father shaped you?

I think I actually became stronger because of it in the end. And my shins are really dead from blowing it out. Kickboxing is good for anger, so that goes hand in hand.

Can you cycle along Linnaeusstraat without the past intruding?

I was recently at a new fling's place who lives nearby. After a great night, I walked past the spot the next morning, feeling pretty drained and tired, and I did think, 'What a mess.' But I don't really go there anymore, to be honest.

What is the most beautiful memory you have of your father?

“One time it was my birthday, he organized a sleepover – all the friends from my class could stay. At the time, he was having a falling out with the headmaster of a nearby school. He had brought all kinds of spray cans, and we were allowed to spray the entire school with fucking junk. 'What are you doing!' the neighbors reacted. He gave his address and said: 'Let them call, you know.' I love it."

What did you dream of as a boy, even before there was any talk of art?

I wanted to join the army. But that didn't happen.

You don't strike me as the type to dig foxholes.

No, but I'm not really a pacifist either.

After art school, you moved to Southeast Asia to practice Muay Thai. Tell us about it.

I’ve never been happier than I was then. Training six to seven hours a day in a fighting camp like that is really great. There’s a very strange positivity: you beat each other to a pulp, but with a sort of mutual respect. Wonderful, man. paradise! I can't wait to go back. Until then, I have to make do with my punching bag in the garden behind my studio. In between painting, I do six steps every now and then.”

After returning from Southeast Asia, you went to work in the hospitality industry. You kept that up for ten years.

“I had no goal in mind. And from your twentieth to your thirtieth, none of it really matters – you’re like: This is forever, really nice, everything will be fine. Smokes a lot too. Every day wake and bake, blowing the future forward. Then you turn thirty and the harsh reality suddenly sinks in that you have a shitty job: throwing rotis in the microwave all day… At some point you think: this isn't going to work.”

Squirting in colors

What were your first practice runs with painting?

In the kitchen, I worked with those squeeze bottles to put sauces on the food. squirter“I had a good grip on those things, they felt good in my hand, and suddenly a eureka moment popped up: let me fill those little bottles with paint. Because with a brush in my hand, I shake like some sort of Michael J. Fox. I started experimenting with that technique. If I hadn't been in the kitchen but had been behind the bar, chances are it wouldn't have become a success story and I would have ended up on disability benefits.”

During the lockdown, you had all the time to work on your own painting style…

“The hospitality industry was in a slump at the time. First, I started a handyman business with a guy I know. When we were laying a ceiling in Kudelstaart at five in the morning with the radio on, it dawned on me: this isn't going to work out either. At that moment, I decided to throw myself entirely into painting. I was living in a 42-square-meter apartment. I converted it into a studio. That was quite a thing, because I was living with my ex. And it’s not exactly conducive to a relationship when you push all the furniture aside.”

How long did it take you to develop your style?

Well, a few years. In 2018, I started experimenting with those spray bottles, and in 2022, I dared to step out with my work for the first time with a solo exhibition at De Hallen Studio's in Amsterdam. It was a step-by-step process. For example, at first, I could never manage to make a woman look feminine; she looked more like a broad-jawed orc. I also struggled with clothing pleats; they always looked messy out. And I am still making progress.”

If you look back at those first works now…

My painting shows progress, but the first works also sold well. They were a bit cuter than what I make now: apparently, fewer people want a T-rex with big pupils above the sofa. I do like things that are a bit edgy to be. I already had that as a child.”

Besides demons and dinosaurs, aren't you also inspired by politics, given the titles of some works: As a wise president once said, Atomic republican, The pessimistic adventures of Captain Welfare…?

I am still trying to kiss Donald Trump's ass as much as possible, because the plan is to go to America. It is time to show the whole thing to the general public. Getting out there, you know. And Americans are also more inclined to reach for the credit card. The name Van Gogh does really well there, of course. Just like: 'His dad got murdered by a terrorist!' For example, a doctor in Missouri purchased a work through our website. The painting now hangs in his waiting room. PTSD in the forest: Bambi with an M60 machine gun, like Rambo, to take revenge because his mother was murdered. A patient of his, a war veteran, saw that work hanging and wrote me a letter asking if I wanted to create a portrait using his delusions of the war as ingredients. That is Warface He became: someone with a severely burned face saluting. He was totally happy about it and said I understood his trauma. He flew all the way to Amsterdam especially for it! We started drinking together and even ended up in a massive brawl with taxi drivers. The next day I woke up with a bruised jaw. It had been a fun night, but really heavy shit, you know, that guy. He’s scarred for life. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t join the army after all…”

From titles like *Rhinoceros without a septum* and *Horsing around*, I deduce that drugs also serve as a source of inspiration?

“I’m a night owl, sometimes I use a bit. I can’t go 100 percent Wibra. I can be absolutely certain that none of the customers at the Gebroeders Winter stationery store have ever used drugs – they’re too busy erasing there. That’s no life either. It’s a fine line between Gebroeders Winter, Wibra, and jumping off the Hilton.”

Is there anything of your father in your work?

“Yes, there is a spoonful of ash in every painting, hahaha! That is why they are all so incredibly expensive (ranging from 4.000 to 12.000 euros, ed.). No, no, no… my father doesn’t really appear in my work. At most in a painting of a zombie, that I Night of the Living Dad have mentioned.”

To what extent is painting also a way for you to live with grief?

[His dog seeks attention] “Benji, take it easy, Dad is talking about art. Do I paint away my sadness? Nah… I do get emotional sometimes, but that has more to do with the music that is always blasting when I am painting. Especially when I work through the night and certain songs come on, I sometimes tend to get sentimental. But more often than not, it gives me energy or sparks ideas.”

You must have needed energy for the assignment you received from Corendon: painting the Boeing standing in the garden of Corendon Village Hotel Amsterdam.

“It’s a sticker, mind you; I didn’t paint on the plane itself. There is also a ten-meter canvas hanging in the hotel lobby. The very largest work I’ve made is one that is 20 x 2 meters. That one hung in a gallery that has since closed down. Now it stands rolled up in our warehouse. In case you happen to know anyone with a really big white wall…”

A boxer's punch

Art historian Jhim Lamoree called your work 'the punch of a boxer': vitalistic, energetic, direct. Do you recognize yourself in that description?

I get his point. Personally, I have absolutely nothing hanging on the walls at home. When I compare my work to a white wall, it really overwhelms you. In any case, it doesn't bring much feng shui with it.

How would you describe your work yourself?

“I usually start stammering at that question. That’s why I asked Chat GPT the other day. He came up with a whole description: ‘The dark undertones stem from his childhood, the use of color reveals the child in him…’ Well, *that* is a selling point, ha! Better than my stammering. I’m a bit too intense to be a good salesman.”

Your work has an explosive quality. Is that controlled power, or are you actually allowing onto the canvas what has no place in everyday life?

It is somewhat controlled, though. Every work starts with an idea and then a sketch. I project that sketch onto a canvas using a projector and make it large. Then I begin. First, I apply a base layer with a brush, and then I let the autism take its course. When everything works out in one go, that is the chillest feeling ever. However, often halfway through it turns into something completely different, and then I am a seeker on the canvas. Sometimes there are several works in a single painting. But you can't keep going too often. tweak“Once it’s fucked up, it’s really fucked up. Then I’m just cursing all the time, I lash out like a little kid, and Benji crawls scared into the corner. Then I have to go for a walk.”

You are not a quiet, reserved artist…

Far from it. And it is a physical challenge too. I work sixteen hours a day, and all that time I am bent over the canvas – it can’t hang: otherwise, the thick paint I apply to it splatters right off. That posture really kicks you in, though sometimes I get back pain. At first, I laid the canvas on the floor, but that was disastrous for my knees. Now I work on a table. It is a wonderful obsession, but I won’t be able to keep up a workout like this every day until I’m sixty. I’ve been in an abnormal amount of pain for the past three days, and a toothache on top of that. A friend came in and asked how much ibuprofen I had taken. I had popped those things down like Smarties, two full strips. Apparently, that wasn’t the intention.”

The plan is to go to America. It is time to show the whole thing to the general public.

Do you still have a social life when you are painting sixteen hours a day?

I’m working in the hospitality industry again on the weekend, precisely to be around people for a bit. Because you do go slightly crazy after a few days. riding soloThat is my social life. And if I have nothing to do, I go do a bit of exercise, walk Benji in Vondelpark, and see what people are complaining about online.”

In de Volkskrant, Eric Sauers called you 'an unguided, sweet projectile'. Do you recognize that?

Somewhat, somewhat… I am busy non-stop. The trailer for the Disney movie Peter Pan that I saw at the age of five pops up in my head at least once a day, and a few hundred more of those images – a constant stream of unnecessary informationIt is quite tiring, I can tell you. It will probably insanity to be."

Vincent: kinship and resistance

As a great-great-great-cousin, do you recognize something of Vincent van Gogh in yourself?

Maybe his obsession, his work ethic – go for it, go for it, and the rest doesn't matter. And I'm quite a bit like him. Admittedly, I am not ginger, but we have the same high jawline.”

How does his work affect you?

Very little. I like a few paintings, such as almond blossom, and then more for the story behind it, how he worked. But otherwise… Post-Impressionism isn't really my thing. I'd rather see the detailed ballpoint pen drawings of a dystopian Tokyo by the Japanese artist Shohei Otomo. Very cool!

You were invited to the Van Gogh Village in Nuenen, where Vincent van Gogh worked. What was it like walking around there?

The whole village was in a frenzy, I was welcomed like a pope, young mothers wanted me to bless their babies… Yes, how was it? We were offered a tour of the museum and the mills. It was nice. I was just under the impression that I could hang my paintings there. The rent is dueSo, a nice little project wouldn't have been bad for me. But it was more of a gesture than business. And during a tour like that, the ADHD really kicks in, and I find it hard to keep my attention on the guide's explanation. It drifts off quite quickly.”

Has the Van Gogh Museum not called yet to include a work of yours in the collection?

“No, not yet. Other museums aren't calling either. However, my work has been bought by private collectors in China, America, Germany, England, Belgium… And, of course, by Dutch people with good taste!”

Vincent sought out cafes and brothels later in life. Do you also have an edge where things chafe?

“I’m not really into brothels. I went to the Red Light District once for a blowjob, but I came as soon as the condom was put on. And I find pubs a bit sad. Always the same regulars telling the same story to each other at the bar every day. I do go to a coffeeshop occasionally. Recently, I was painting a dragon, and all those scales needed a dark spot and a highlight. That’s when a joint is a godsend, because after the umpteenth scale, you realize it’s actually quite nice to be in the right rhythm.”

Does an artist need disruption to create urgent work?

You do have to be a little bit crazy, yes. An artist who isn't a cloud in the sky cannot be trusted. You always need to have a bit of the broken souls.

Are you someone who seeks balance, or does it only get interesting when things go a little off the rails?

I’m just blasting straight ahead the whole time. Blast, blast, blast, man.

To what extent are you an artist of life?

“I create my own theater, my own drama. As acquaintances and friends, I pick out one borderliner after another, hahaha. Birds of a feather flock together. One big pot.” fucking idiot. I can say that with certainty.”

A rough day at the office

What is the ultimate goal of your art?

It offers me the chance to travel all over the world, I think so fucking Nice! Money doesn't interest me. At the beginning of every month, I get a new pair of sweatpants at Zeeman to paint in, I buy steaks for Benji, and occasionally a joint.

When does success become dangerous for an artist?

"Once the hookers are gone, hahaha! No, it could be several things: if the joy is out, if there is far too much fucking is dope in the game and especially if you start seeing it as a job – a rough day at the office. "

Are you working on becoming freer or better?

Get better. I am already free.

What do you still want to achieve?

My own studio in LA. Diving into the sea in the morning, then getting some work done, walking the dog, and then back to work.

What message do you want to convey to our readers?

For all your impulsive purchases, you can go to www.therealvangogh.com – I repeat: www.therealvangogh.com – there are seas of magic where you can launder all your black money.