The imposing and colorful works of Lin-Shi Kok (1998) conceal a complicated relationship to artistry. While working, she explores where the limits of the artist's responsibility lie. We spoke with her in her studio.
“In 2016-2017 I took an orientation year at the Rietveld Academy, but at that time I didn't have the idea that I wanted to become an artist. I grew up in Amsterdam and after the gap year at the Rietveld, I chose to study philosophy at the University of Groningen (RUG). During my studies I met people who studied at Academy Minerva, and that made me decide to go to the art academy after all.
at art school you can do anything and the choice of materials is almost infinite.
The special thing about the art academy is that you can devote yourself completely to art for a few years. That's a very special moment in life. At home you are often limited in your choice of materials and quickly end up with things like drawing and painting, but at art school you can do anything and the choice of materials is almost infinite. It felt like a playground.
During the first and second year, I struggled to decide what I wanted to do. I stuck to painting and drawing and was searching for my own style. In the third year, my parents gave me a sewing machine. That was when I decided to experiment with other materials. That was when I really felt I was doing what I wanted to do. That was also the time when a friend of mine was going through a rough patch and I wanted to make something to cheer her up. So I made a little doll as a gift. In that little work I recognized the same expressive thing I saw in my paintings, but now in a different form. The colors matched. It became an obsession, and I started making all kinds of figures that were in my head. This expanded into larger works.
It became an obsession; I started making all kinds of figures that were in my head.
With textiles, I feel a lot of freedom; I think of something and cut it right out of the fabric. The material lends itself well to this, because what you cut out exists immediately. I don't mind if there are some sloppinesses in my work; that gives it character. I am not someone who likes neat workmanship. Besides, textile is a material that invites to touch, and it easily connects with the audience. It gives a sense of security that other materials don't have. For one of my projects, I made scarves with hands attached. This was an investigation into security and how fabric can convey that. People felt embraced by those hands.
In practice, I often don't think about what I'm going to make in advance. I am guided by what material appeals to me and just start. That helps me tremendously in my creative process. As a contemporary artist, you are expected to have a good story. Of course as an artist it is important to know what you are doing, mainly for yourself and your creative process, but I don't think artists always have to have a clear story. What do I have to tell? I don't know everything about the world and don't want to dictate to people what they should see in my work or exploit big topics. For my thesis, I had to work hard to find the right words. To just capture everything in words can make a work very heavy and hinder the creative process very much. I try to use my work to lighten heavy topics and talk about the connection between people and the difficulties that come with it. But I prefer to do that with my work, not with my words.”
Text: Dinnis van Dijken
Photos: Sander van der Bij