Triennial art parcours Beaufort alters its act for fifth edition
Not wanting to seem stale, Flanders’ seaside art triennial Beaufort has radically altered its format this year, with three permanent group shows and other installations coming and going
The art of improvisation
A Jew who survived the Nazis, Friedman went to Israel after the war, where he studied architecture while working in construction. The practicalities of the job influenced everything theoretical from that point in his young life, and he has spent the last 70 years improvising – in every situation.
Now 92, he won't be on site in Ostend this summer, but his influence is the guiding force behind the fifth edition of Beaufort, the Flemish coast’s arts triennial.
Beaufort has taken a radical new direction this year. The large-scale installations found up and down the coastline by the careful following of your map have given way to three central locations and a sort of malleable project called Musée Promenade along the length of the coast and dipping here and there into the cities.
Works will appear and just as easily disappear – sometimes washed away by the sea, sometimes moved to another location. Musée Promenade is being entirely staged by art collective A Dog Republic.
A dog’s life
But don’t let Nico Dockx hear you call the group a collective. Made up of the Antwerp artist – whose massive archive of all manner of documents and photographs informs much of his work – Helena Sidiropoulos, with whom he often collaborates, Friedman, long-time Friedman collaborator Jean-Baptiste Decavèle and Flemish sound artist Krist Torfs, A Dog Republic has staged exhibitions around Europe, including at Ostend’s Mu.ZEE.
Beaufort will question structures and consider whether museums should just be in the streets
“We are interested in acting as a complementary working group, but not as a ‘collective’,” Dockx explains. “A collective gets branded as one entity. For us, it’s about coming together as free agents. We have no obligations to be part of the group.”
And Beaufort is under no obligation to provide you with a static, three-month exhibition. Outside of the three locations where groups of works come together, Beaufort will ebb and flow like a tide. Visitors must ask at any given city’s tourist office what they might expect to find that day. And it could be different from what you’ll see there a week later.
Aside from the obvious draw of the ability to improvise at this Beaufort, A Dog Collective was also encouraged to take part because of an on-going discussion in the government of Flanders about the ability of the provinces to control their own culture policies.
“From 2016 or ’17, the power of West Flanders – and every other province – to programme their own artistic and cultural activities will disappear,” says Dockx. “Mu.ZEE, for instance, is a provincial museum, but they will lose their funding. A lot of smaller museums will get absorbed by bigger structures.”
So A Dog Republic is concerning itself with how art can be presented outside of those big structures. “Musée Promenade will question structures and consider whether museums should just be in the streets and not between walls. What if that were to happen? Beaufort was interested in how this whole thing would unfold, to see how it works.”
Beaufort’s programme gives you many options for exploring, then, and setting out from one of the three permanent sites is a good way to get started. Each of them – Het Zwin in Knokke, Raversyde in Ostend and Nachtegaal in De Panne – are protected nature areas. Each site has an info spot with a map and can also let you know what else Beaufort-related is going on in or near their city that day.
Nature first
A Dog Republic is also part of these permanent exhibitions, and its “Bamboo Towers” at Nachtegaal is a prime example of the nature of adaptation. A web of connected bamboo poles weaves in and out of the surrounding trees, filling a clearing in a lovely forest that sweeps around inland dunes.
Animals adapt to the natural context; humans always have the need to manipulate it
The piece gives the impression of being organic – like some mythical forest creature could have made it or it could have sprouted up all on its own. Dockx recalls Friedman’s philosophy: “Developers have an idea of conquering a space, putting down urban roots in which everyone has to fit. Yona thinks this is totally backwards. Animals always adapt to the natural context, while humans always feel the need to manipulate the environment and make it adapt to them.”
Also at the Nachtegaal site is a tree constructed by American artist Oscar Tuazon, with water flowing out of the top and down its long trunk. It’s somewhat poignant, like it’s crying, but it also suggests a fountain. Perhaps this human intervention is the future of nature?
At Raversyde, meanwhile, you’ll find among the many installations German artist Thorsten Brinkmann’s “Kista del Sol”. You’ll have to squeeze a bit to get through the small opening and narrow hallway to get to the room inside – intimately decorated with timeless elements that recall refuge, relocation and flight.
Of course, every new endeavour has its growing pains. A Dog Collective had to remove a temporary drawing painstakingly made in the sand with a group of local children with special needs and thousands of mussel shells after just 48 hours. It seems one resident didn’t like the smell of the shells and complained to the city, which had either forgotten – or not been informed – about the project.
But oh well, sighs Dockx. “We improvise, we adapt. That’s what dogs do.”
Until 21 September, across the Belgian coast
Pictured top: A Dog Republic’s “Bamboo Towers” at the Nachtegaal site
Picture above: A Dog Republic’s installation “Iconostatis” on the breaker at Blankenberge will catch seaweed and other surprises that wash up at high tide and display them – just like a museum
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