Ellen Meers’ ceramic tiles are like tablets inscribed with hieroglyphs, seemingly right at home in the Queens Brussels mansion, whose staircase is adorned with an early 20th-century mural depicting ancient Egyptian scenes. Placed side by side, Meers’ symbols tell a story. Underlying them are anecdotes and memories from her own childhood or stories of friends and family. Folkloric stories too, often with a Limburg twist, as that’s where her roots lie. Her great-grandfather was a marble painter there. Meers’ childhood was steeped in stories about him—tales passed down orally through generations, which the artist, listening with fascination as a child, quickly and simultaneously wrote down. In the process, she gradually developed her own rebus-like language composed of all kinds of colourful symbols. A red theatre curtain refers to stories, a football goal or pitch to Meers’ father. But the openness of her symbols invites you to construct your own narrative as well.
The speed with which Meers captures her stories stands in stark contrast to the slowness inherent in the ceramic process: shaping a tablet, engraving it, bisque firing at 1,000 degrees, applying glaze, and firing it again at a higher temperature so the glaze melts, fuses with the clay, and reveals its true colours. A matter of layering, just like Gillon’s work’.
A motley mishmash, as in a cosy messy nursery, brimming with fantasy. This is how you can interpret 'méli-mélo', which is the title Dona' Gillon has given to the duo exhibition showing some of her own work and work by Ellen Meers. Numerous mysterious motifs pop up in the expo, recognisable but somewhat elusive. They take you on a colourful journey along memories, dreams and stories, mostly from childhood.
The childlike naïve depiction of objects floating in a timeless eternity is what connects Gillon’s and Meers’ works. Motifs from one body of work occasionally echo in the other. Archetypal symbols that seem to be shared by all our stories? They appear to speak directly to our subconscious.