Gallery opening Sep 26 of the new exhibition Bouchaib Dihaj: Eternally Nearby.
Introduced by Els van der Plas, Former Director, The Gate Foundation and the Prins Claus Foundation; Current Director, Allard Pierson, Amsterdam.
Followed by a presentation by Dr. Marja Konstantinovski, Physician and Microbiologist, Reiner Haga Medical Diagnostic Centre, The Netherlands.
Introduction speech by Els van der Plas (English translation):
Bouchaib Dihaj is a true painter. He paints and he looks. He loves looking—looking at old and new masters, at what is happening at the Venice and Dakar Biennials, into his own inner self, or simply outward at nature. He does not merely look; he also sees things. In nature. In his body. In art. He speaks enthusiastically about the work of Ansuya Blom and views the paintings of Markus Lüpertz and Georg Baselitz with admiration.
These two German painters, Lüpertz and Baselitz, inspired him when he was studying at the AKI Academy in Enschede in the early 1980s; the artists were close by, just across the border. They were known as Neo-Expressionists.
Lüpertz also introduced another term for his own work: dithyrambic—meaning something akin to wildly enthusiastic, fervent, spirited, and frenzied in tone. The word derives from the dithyramb, an ecstatic and tempestuous hymn of praise from ancient Greece honouring Dionysus. Dihaj’s work could also be described as dithyrambic; he adopted the expressionist approach and open attitude of the Germans.
At the AKI, he was also taught by Alphons Freijmuth, Reinier Lucassen, Theo Wolvecamp, and Henk Visch—artists who helped shape him. Dihaj’s work reflects not only the neo-expressionism of the Germans but also the abstract expressionism of Freijmuth and Wolvecamp.
Wolvecamp, a member of Cobra, dedicated his life to a number of the Cobra group’s core principles: a style of painting characterized by freedom and spontaneity, in which improvisation and experimentation play the leading role. Wolvecamp’s strength lay in the intuition and spontaneity he brought to his work.
Bouchaib adopts this same approach—experimentation, improvisation, intuition, and spontaneity. He also embraces chance; for him, there is nothing better.
For instance, he applies heavily diluted oil paint to the canvas while it lies on the ground. Then he stands the painting upright so that the paint slowly runs downwards, creating an unplanned composition that he then incorporates into the work. In this way, he allows for chance—for the spontaneous and the unplanned.
But to return to the point: how did a young boy from Morocco end up in the Netherlands—and, more specifically, in Enschede?
For one thing, the Akademie voor Kunst en Industrie (AKI) in Enschede enjoyed a strong reputation abroad. According to Dihaj, its directors—first Joop Hardy and subsequently Sipke Huisman—were visionaries. Hardy served as director of the AKI from 1968 to 1981, followed by Sipke Huisman from 1981 to 2001.
Hardy’s approach to teaching was associative and stimulated his students’ imaginations. He often referred to André Malraux’s concept of a musée imaginaire—an ‘imaginary museum’—in which traditions from every corner of the globe and every era coexist simultaneously. Hardy fostered an atmosphere of democracy and freedom at the AKI, attracting artists from all over the world—including Morocco. These artists, in turn, told others about the excellent academy located in that sleepy town in the eastern Netherlands, right on the German border.
Dihaj himself came from a classic, traditional French art academy—the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Casablanca. Drawing from nature. Still lifes. Artistic techniques such as anatomy, perspective, and color theory predominated. A solid classical foundation—important for his subsequent development in Enschede and later at the Rijksakademie.
It was his mother who inspired him to draw and paint. His father loved him; while perhaps not keen on having an artist for a son, he did not stand in his way either. Dihaj arrived in the Overijssel city on a scholarship from Morocco. With limited means—the dirham is not the guilder—the artists there relied primarily on one another, the AKI, the instructors, and the art itself.
In 1984, after completing his studies, Dihaj moved to the Rijksakademie van Beeldende Kunsten in Amsterdam. He describes how he was awakened at the AKI and was able to further develop his practice at the Rijksakademie. There, he could continue experimenting, test a wide range of possibilities, and consult with international advisors—including the aforementioned Ansuya Blom. Yet, he always remained true to his first love: painting.
In the 1990s, Dihaj’s work was expressionistic, featuring dark tones. His exploration delved into the relationship between abstraction and reality. Freijmuth described this style as the depiction of abstract ideas through figurative elements—a technique also evident in Dihaj’s work. This is still recognisable in his paintings today. They are lighter, more transparent, and perhaps more optimistic than before. Yet, one can still spot figurative forms such as flowers, leaves, and female shapes, even though the work appears abstract as a whole.
A few years ago, Dihaj underwent a difficult lung operation. He watched the doctors operate and saw the images—the magnified microcosm that was his own body. He became fascinated by biology, medicine, and the beauty of microscopic life. This is reflected in the work of his currently on display here; nature and the microscopic world blend together organically. Yet the emotional roller coaster he experienced during his hospital stays is also evident in this work, which now reveals a more sensitive side.
During my conversation with Bouchaib, he said several times, “I am an optimistic person. I love the Netherlands, the painters I have met here, the painters this country has produced—like Rembrandt—and the development I have undergone here. But I also love the lessons I teach, and the experience I can now pass on at academies and in workshops—perhaps in much the same way Hardy advocated.”
The work hanging here is titled Metamorphosis. This refers not only to the transition from microcosm to macrocosm, or from figuration to abstraction, but also to the shift from the classical painter to the seasoned contemporary artist he has become. The metamorphosis from illness to recovery, from naivety to worldly wisdom, from Moroccan to Dutchman and cosmopolitan.
Yet one thing he always remains—and will remain throughout his life—a painter.