You are now listening to the wall text of the exhibition Sarah Smolders – A Space Begins, With Speaking.

Sarah Smolders’ work arises in dialogue with a specific space and its architectural features, which the artist closely observes and annotates through painterly interventions and elements. Changes and additions that are nearly impossible to notice at first glance invite the viewer to slow down and view and experience the space unexpectedly.

The apparent simplicity of this exhibition involves an intensive thought and making process in and with the spaces of M. The removal of the temporary exhibition architecture restores spatial connections and vistas, while patterns and material motifs bring in the story of the museum building.

Precise additions and interventions invite us to look at the corners, edges, folds, tops and bottoms of the exhibition space. These spatial figures encourage us to assess imperfections in the space in a different way.

Here at M, Smolders combines for the first time a new spatial intervention with residues from past site-specific exhibitions. She uses those residues as her own spatial alphabet to read and scale M-spaces. That spatial alphabet includes references to architectural elements such as doors, windows or floors, as well as references to the space of speech, such as punctuation and punctuation marks. ‘Un Signe’ (2022) in 2.B is both a two-part print of a window and a nod to a hook and a dot, while ‘Concrete, Concrete’ (2018) in 2.A is both a floor taking the measure of the M space and a handmade painting of a tiled floor of another space.

This exhibition consists of two rooms (2.A and 2.B), on both sides of the roof terrace.

You are now listening to the seventh and final wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

Fictional art can address pressing societal issues such as culture, identity, gender, politics, and censorship. It’s always uncertain whether opting for fictional artistry is driven by the intention to offer a platform for conveying potentially contentious messages.

The works in this room testify to engagement and the relevance of fictional artistry within the societal debate. Does fictional artistry provide a safe position to create politically inspired (Oksana Pasaiko) or explicit work (NV Panneel)? Does fictional artistry imply a means to disappear as an attempt to be free without being judged or discriminated against (Puppies Puppies (Jade Guanaro Kuriki-Olivo))? Are we sufficiently aware that Western art history is often unnecessarily projected as a reference to artworks that don’t even subscribe to that tradition (Suha Traboulsi)? What form takes a fictional art production created within the context of a totalitarian regime (Charles Rosenthal)?

You are now listening to the sixth wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

Fictional art frequently functions within a framework borrowed from reality; it may encompass historical contexts but just as easily follow the contemporary art world.

Various fictional artists take liberties with the (un)written rules of the so-called art system by portraying themselves as actors from within that art world. Thus, individuals like Leo Josefstein or Hubert Van Es claim to be artists even though they hold very different authoritative roles within the Belgian artistic scene. Alternatively, from a fictional artist like Emily Feather, a desire arises for anonymity and the abandonment of individual authorship.

The anonymous group of artists, Bernadette Corporation, adopts a quasi-corporate identity, to critique a global culture that constructs identity through consumption and branding. In 2005, Bernadette Corporation releases the jointly written novel ‘Reena Spaulings’, which would then serve as the foundation for new artist initiatives such as Henry Codax or the collective project Reena Spaulings, which functions as both an artist persona and an art gallery located in New York.

You are now listening to the fifth wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

Creating a fictional art practice today can also impact the past. By supposedly bringing historically but entirely fictional artists to life with their own context and narrative, a piece of history is corrected. And, although the practices of Justine Frank, Darko Maver or Florence Hasard are figments of imagination, as spectators, we are eager to believe in these stories presented as proven facts.

Their history is brought together by the most diverse pieces of evidence, such as vintage photos and film fragments, press clippings, and documentaries with interviews of those involved, ... Not only the creation of this evidence but also how it is exhibited, and communicated to an audience, reinforces the authenticity of these practices that rewrite the past.

They demonstrate that historiography is not finished but is still in full development. Creating a new version of what the past could have been, often from the perspective of a marginalised social position, undermines the effect of historical distance: as if history is conveniently something from long-gone times that do not concern us.

You are now listening to the fourth wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

Art Keller, Richard Allibert, and Gladys Clover... They are just a few of the many fictional artists collected by the French artists Yoon-Ja Choi & Paul Devautour. Until 1985, both create art under their own names, only to then embrace the complexity and layered nature of various fictional alter egos and roles within the art world.

A portion of the Yoon-Ja Choi & Paul Devautour collection is exhibited in this room. Martin Tupper, who operates as an artist, critic and at the same time is a fictional alias of Yoon-Ja Choi & Paul Devautour, conceived the arrangement of the collection, which simultaneously evokes a showroom, an art fair booth, or the domestic setting of a private collection.

Martin Tupper’s ‘Show Room of the Yoon-Ja Choi & Paul Devautour Collection’ (1992) presents a selection of various artistic movements and tendencies. For example, artist Richard Allibert works exclusively with readymades: simple objects or everyday items left unchanged. Buchal & Clavel question the principle of the artist duo together. Artist J. Duplo, on the other hand, exclusively works with Lego bricks.

You are now listening to the third wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

Much like the names of fictional artists, the personas they embrace are typically not arbitrary designations. How do you create (self) portraits of artists who essentially do not exist?

The (self) portrait is synonymous with awareness and is also intrinsically linked to identity: it breathes ‘I exist/they exist’. Artists literally and metaphorically play out the complexity of what that self exactly entails through signifiers linked to gender, origin, or culture. A portrait can be a feminist critique of the restrictive societal image of what it means to be a woman (Roberta Breitmore). Or it can form a critique of ‘production’ within the capitalist system (Claire Fontaine). A group portrait can visualise within which domains of the art world you will profile yourself (Brian O’Doherty). Alternatively, it can serve as a means for the artist to disappear as an author in favour of the network of collectors surrounding them (Philippe Thomas).

Just like in what we consider reality, there is no singular truth. In that sense, fictional artists’ (self) portraits exhibit an affinity with institutional critique: both aim to reveal aspects of reality behind the representations that conceal it.

You are now listening to the second wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

Artists operating under a fictional alias embrace a blank canvas: a fresh start where everything remains open, including the choice of a name. With fictional artists, this is seldom arbitrary. A new name implies escaping from all forms of predestination, such as a historical identity or psychologically inherited traits. Likewise, choosing a common generic name (John Doe Co., John Dogg) or a political name (Janez Janša Janez Janša Janez Janša) can disrupt the conventional naming system. What is the value of a signature (Ernest T.) or a name stamp (Herman Smit) as a visual sign of authenticity when conceived or placed by fictional artists? In this room, works are shown by fictional artists whose names play an essential role in our experience or interpretation of their work.

It’s worth noting that Western visual art production has traditionally been less inclined to utilise alternate personas, heteronyms, or pseudonyms compared to literature, for instance. From the early Renaissance, Western visual art production shifted from a system rooted in guild cooperatives to individual creativity. The introduction of the artist’s signature coincides with this change, and within this context, few artists deviated from their original names. Since then, artists are expected to create art under their own name and signature precisely because of the significant symbolic value and cultural capital associated with them.

You are now listening to the first wall text of the exhibition ALIAS.

In today’s world of artificial intelligence, fake news, and deepfake videos, distinguishing between reality and fiction has become more pressing than ever before. But instead of strictly delineating between illusion and facts, some artists allow both to coexist by embodying fictional alter egos. They craft artistic personas complete with their own biographies and present their fiction as if it were fact.

In ‘Alias,’ works of artists who operate under one or more alter egos are brought together. By adopting a different identity, artists can break free from gender or cultural issues, the rules of the art world, and the capitalist system that turns names into brands. Every fictional artist has a unique context that defines their work. This context plays a crucial role in determining the utilisation and rationale behind their fiction. What strategies lie behind fictional artists? Do they develop on the level of the artist themselves? Do they touch upon the art world or emerge as a reaction to society?

Please note: Some works in this exhibition may not be suitable for all ages.

These are the words of Geert Goiris, curator of the exhibition.

Fascinated by different modes of interaction, the artist began working with paraffin wax, a pliable material that can be endlessly modified through pressure or incisions. The artist’s experience with malleable substances led her to celluloid film, which is also a sensitive membrane that carries ephemeral images. ‘Corolla’ is her first 16mm film. This silent work consists of seven close-ups of flower petals on human eyelids. The petals are animated by the involuntary movement of the eyes. ‘Corolla’ is screened as a 16mm projection so that the physical medium is integral to the viewing experience. The film has sculptural qualities: tactility, materiality and dynamism. The soft, almost imperceptible touch of petals on the eyelids adds yet another layer to the succession of membranes: skin on skin on skin. We never get to see the full faces, there is little to recognise or identify. Central to this work is the touch of the vegetal on the human and the subtle interweaving at the interface between the two worlds.

These are the words of Geert Goiris, curator of the exhibition.

We see a curved, black, plexiglass panel that reflects an inverted view of the world. It has all the elusive qualities of a shapeshifter: the perspective is unreliable; the materiality is ambiguous. From the side, we can still estimate the depth of the wall-mounted sculpture. Face on, and the work stretches into infinity and is utterly disorienting. It is unclear whether we are staring into a concave or a convex lens. This indeterminate yet extremely precise object is both shiny and transparent, a black mirror that could just as easily be a solid piece of glass. Ann Veronica Janssens’ oeuvre is a quest for the perception of light and lightness. Her works are a fascinating investigation into boundlessness and immateriality.