WILL

« It’s raining. The water trickles down and rushes into the overflowing holes. His oilskin is dripping. He walks up his street, painfully, his shoulders heavy with water and life. The droplets crumble from his beard. The thunder scolds him for his meager day. His net is quite empty.

The rooftops do not smoke, the small port town has fallen asleep forever. No more holidaymakers in recent years, no more work sites for children on the beach, no more trenches for the castle moats. The shovels and buckets were left in the sand. Lightning encircles the lighthouse, a flickering candle. His bed will be empty. Formerly, when his wife was still there, together, they used to run the fish and chips place.

The lock creaks, his boots creak. He throws his three catches on the table. Through the net, wide eyes stare at him. His cracked and sticky hands open, empty, rinse, rub. The pungent smell scents the room. Same ritual, indefinitely. Skins full of mirrors shine. His knife blade shines. It is decided, tomorrow he will not go back there either, he will never go fishing again. » (Nastasja Caneve)

Antoine Van Impe jointly uses various mediums and techniques to study and question the relationships between the different phenomena and experiences of being. More than the exposition of facts and effects, these works are propositions made to an imaging consciousness.