Julie Van Kerckhoven

ça roule
Het Rad in Anderlecht, 2022

At the place where 'the wheel' used to stand, there is now a laundromat with a pink facade. The floor is tiled black and white, the walls are painted in blue.

I always choose machine 22, because I was born on the 22nd. The first time I put the detergent in the wrong container. Fortunately, it came out well. I saw bags from Aldi, Action, Delhaize and Ikea. Is it impolite to look at someone else's dirty laundry?

Sometimes I stayed and waited, sometimes I went out. The laundromat was my entrance to the neighborhood. I collected images of the ends that are tied together, the little delineations in the landscape of Het Rad, La Roue, The Wheel. Human tinkering is everywhere. I look at machine 22, she swishes my clothes around evenly. 12 minutes to go.

Together with writer Arno Boey, for the celebration of 100 years of garden districts in Brussels.

A departure here, means an arrival somewhere else
Metrostop Bourse in Brussels, 2022

I live in the Anneessens neighbourhood in Brussels. Every day my attention is drawn to large numbers of bags being loaded by men, in and out of vans. Bags of all shapes and sizes, wrapped with tape and plastic. What would they contain? Where are these objects going? Who is sending them?

Every day, hundreds of packages leave Brussels for Morocco. An intensive work that for many escapes the eye, because they don't know it or don't need it. An invisble route in and out of the city. I decided to stop regularly on my way home, to photograph the packages. For me, these packages turned into symbolic objects for a world where leaving and arriving has become so common.

Part of the exhibition Areas of Greens and Greys. A self-curated exhibition together with Izra-Marie Jans, Inca Garnica and Sepideh Farvardin. Coached by Pieter Delfosse. Invitation by Zinnema and MIVB, for Qartier.

Onder het dak
Stokveldewijk in Bruges, 2021

While walking in the Stokvelde area, I became fascinated by the 1970's architectural style that characterizes some of the houses. A striking feature here is that the roofs sometimes seem to cover the entire house, from the ground up.

What is hidden under those large roofs? What used to remain invisible? I photographed the interior spaces of these houses, and by lifting these roofs out of the neighborhood as an element, I also respond to another element that fascinates me. After all, in my hometown of Brussels, I am overwhelmed every day by a multitude of images, neon lights and posters. Here, everything is more serene. By declaring these roofs to be "sculptures" and exhibiting them publicly in the neighborhood, I provide a response to this.

Part of the residency and exhibition organised by KUNSTENPLATFORM PLAN B and Uitwijken.

Maria, Koningin des hemels
Vaartkom, Leuven, 2021

At the back of a large billboard with car advertisement, my Maria is hiding. The billboard is located at the foot of an abbey on the Keizersberg. The patron saint of this abbey is 'Maria, Queen of Heaven'. A giant statue of Maria looks out over the city from the top the mountain.

I claimed the billboard to make my own interpretation of the Virgin Maria. I looked for photographs in my archive that could refer to the female genitals. In this way, I wanted to engage into a dialogue with, on the one hand, the glorification of the pure, eternal virginity of women and, on the other hand, with the oppressed position of women in public space.

Part of the exhibition LABO#5.

Human for scale

Harbor of Bruges, 2021

A ship arrives at the harbor. The ship is full of new cars. Inside one of the cars, there sleeps an insect who got in by accident. Around the harbor are berms where so called 'weeds' are growing. Piles of quick construction bricks seem left behind. When I look up I see a track of an airplane that slowly disappears. Yesterday I ate tomatoes from spain.

Part of the exhibition of KONVOOI Festival

If we don't carry the house, it will fall

a work in progress

I have radical hope that settler relations based on violent hierarchies and concepts of property do not have to be all there is... We can have radical hope in a narrative that entails not redeeming the state, but caring for one another as relations. How do we live well here together? The state has and will continue to fail to help us do that.

— Kim Tallbear

How can the home be part of liberating yourself? If we don't carry the house, it will fall exists at the thin intersection between being stuck and reclaiming, between the forced need to built a different type of home and dreaming of one. How does the home take shape according to the relationships we engage in and the values we do or do not pursue? Can cooking for others, eating your weeds or sharing with neighbors be a form of activism? 

Bringer of life — About corn 

a work in progress

Corn is one of the edible crops that lives together with humans the longest. Human hands have been touching the plant for already six- to ninethousand years.

I sowed corn myself to observe, to take care of, to get to know the plant. What does a plant tells us if we are attentive and curious? While my corn is growing I'm trying to uncover the stories, routes, perspectives, situations, ... that corn carries within her. She asks me critically what stories I want to share. How honorably American indigenous peoples once treated the plant, so badly today's food system exploits her. Corn is everywhere, she has brought us so much, how come we know so little about her?

This artistic research started as part of Vruchtbare Grond 2023, a residency I did at Het Bos in Antwerp.

Exhibition view, picture by Amber Cnaekpkens