Le Chauffage
Artwork
Editing & Curating
Writing
CV
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felixgrapp@gmail.com
instagram: @felixarapp
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Collaborators:
Ali Bosley
Antosh Cimoszko
Amanda Crain-Freeland
Al Razutis
Natasha Katedralis
Emile Rubino
Evi Olde Rikkert
Francesca Percival
Graeme Wahn
Julia Dahee Hong
Level Five
Marisa Kriangwiwat Holmes
Maya Beaudry
Vijai Patchineelam
NIGhT HoUSe, 2022
Solo exhibition at Telephone Gallery. 293 E 2nd Ave, Vancouver, BC V5T 1B8
Do jump scares count as memorabilia? Thinking about black and white night vision footage from security cameras positioned in the corner of horror-themed escape rooms – I see: customers flailing and patting around in the dark knowing some… thing... is there... That’s what they paid for, naturally, and I the watcher watch the paid NPC in a burlap sack dress orbiting behind, threatening to touch. “This is the last time I ever buy front row seats!” someone next to us pouts as I turn around to face the silver screen. Nobody’s even been killed yet and my neck is already feeling jacked up from tilting my head back so much. Not to mention that when I’m sat this close to the screen I can see all the pixels that make up the movie and all of a sudden the magic vanishes. I come here to be transported, not reminded of fabrications.
I expect three basic things: cold sweat, heart palpitations, and a genuine, acute fear. But I will accept unease; at the very least, a sense of it. Though these images infer an intent towards terror, they equally infer the slow burn/boil afterglow of the feeling – laughing, shaking it off, a coy sense of knowing what is and isn’t. And, well, the zombies have brought about the apocalypse but it’s been 5 years and our group of libertarian survivalists have managed quite well. Swiping and clawing at boarded up windows and chain link fences day after day, I can’t help but feel sorry for the zombies. I too am zombified after another day hunched over at my dead-end desk job. Unlike my managers and the heroes of this movie who putter around their fortresses wielding their weapons and contradictions, I can tell you exactly what the zombies want: flesh and brains. It’s always flesh and brains. Zombies don’t betray or abandon one another and they certainly don’t try to dock anyone’s pay.
Exquisite Corpse text by Ali Bosley and Felix Rapp
NIGhT HoUSe, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass (60cm x 88cm)
Guardian, 2022
Found lamp parts, scrap wood, fastening hardware (180cm x 75cm x 40cm)
NIGhT HoUSe, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass (60cm x 88cm)
Guardian, 2022
Found lamp parts, scrap wood, music stand, fastening hardware (180cm x 75cm x 40cm)
Guardian, 2022Found lamp parts, scrap wood, music stand, fastening hardware (180cm x 75cm x 40cm)
GIVE ME YOUR EYES.., 2022
Silver gelatin print, silkscreen, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Bodyhammer, 2022
Rust toned silver gelatin print, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Eliza, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Fever, 2022
Silver gelatin print, crayon, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
GIVE ME YOUR EYES.., 2022
Silver gelatin print, silkscreen, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Bodyhammer, 2022
Rust toned silver gelatin print, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Eliza, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Fever, 2022
Silver gelatin print, crayon, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
GIVE ME YOUR EYES.., 2022
Silver gelatin print, silkscreen, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Bodyhammer, 2022
Rust toned silver gelatin print, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Eliza, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Fever, 2022
Silver gelatin print, crayon, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
NIGhT HoUSe, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass (60cm x 88cm)
Guardian, 2022
Found lamp parts, scrap wood, music stand, fastening hardware (180cm x 75cm x 40cm)
GIVE ME YOUR EYES.., 2022
Silver gelatin print, silkscreen, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Bodyhammer, 2022
Rust toned silver gelatin print, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Eliza, 2022
Silver gelatin print, retouching colours, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
Fever, 2022
Silver gelatin print, crayon, plexiglass, screws (60cm x 88cm)
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Agenda 202021, 2021.
Silver gelatin print ~ copper ferrocyanide (200cmx127cm)
Agenda 202021, 2021.
Silver gelatin print ~ copper ferrocyanide (200cmx127cm)
Agenda 202021, 2021.
Silver gelatin print ~ copper ferrocyanide (200cmx127cm)
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Clone, 2021.
Silver gelatin print (310cmx107cm)
Clone, 2021.
Silver gelatin print (310cmx107cm)
Clone, 2021.
Silver gelatin print (310cmx107cm)
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Stadium, 2021.
Warmtone silver gelatin print (250cmx107cm)
Stadium, 2021.
Warmtone silver gelatin print (250cmx107cm)
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Hollow Ground, 2019.Plaster relief (300cmx260cm)
Verso of the staircase at the entry of deSingel
Desguinlei 25, 2018 Antwerp, Belgium
Hollow Ground, 2019.Plaster relief (300cmx260cm)
Verso of the staircase at the entry of deSingel
Desguinlei 25, 2018 Antwerp, Belgium
Hollow Ground, 2019.Plaster relief (300cmx260cm)
Verso of the monumental staircase at the entry of deSingel
Desguinlei 25, 2018 Antwerp, Belgium
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Fragments Found in the Garden, 2019.
Discreetly installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
While preparing dinner yesterday evening, I received a long awaited phone call. I missed that call, however, so I phoned back immediately. It didn’t even ring once, just a confident greeting on the other end. With clammy hands I began my pacing around the room. He was a doctor, now retired. I suppose he isn’t a ‘real’ doctor, however, as his professional life was spent largely teaching anatomy to painters and sculptors at the Academy. His number had been given to me some weeks ago while asking a few pertinent research questions to the teacher who had now replaced him. I hesitated to call for some time because speaking on the phone makes me nervous — perhaps it’s the intimacy of my ear, pressed against his, mediated by this metal and glass device. I’m much more comfortable writing e-mails.
**In my left ear the kitchen timer on my phone goes off**
Doctor says, now that he’s retired, he’s away more than he is around. He prompts me to ask what I’d like to know as I fumble with my phone to disable my quinoa alarm. I asked him about bones, real ones, which I’d found in two old cardboard boxes — one larger, ragged Evian box and a smaller bankers box with a magenta office supply logo on the long side which reads “EVOLVE” — resting on the bottom shelf of a locked steel cabinet in the Academy. I didn’t mention it to him, but the way these remains had simply been thrown inside felt more like trash kept in an attic than fragments which once made up the bodies of real, living people. He opened with “I don’t know the exact sources but...” and then proceeded to unpack stories with extreme accuracy. From his tone, I could tell it was a light topic; or perhaps he was just enjoying reminiscing on the dead.
“Once a psychotic student of mine called the police!” He laughed.
The kitchen towel I had wrapped over my shoulder perched there patiently waiting to pull the roast vegetables out of the oven. Unaware, he continued. An anecdote, with wavering credibility, about punks in the Groenplaats of Antwerp who, during excavation of the square, paid a contractor 100 francs for a human skull and begin playing football with it. “The whole attitude has changed.” He explained. “You know, there’s legislations now.” Doctor alludes that these wrongdoings are far less commonplace than during the days of anatomical theatres and body snatchers. Perhaps things have changed. And yet, the inklings of these practices have been buried by other debris accumulated over time to become the foundation upon which much of science and academia is built. To be clear: these are not conspiracies covered-up by abstract authorities. Closely followed, the traces of these near and distant pasts lead simultaneously in converging, diverging and parallel directions — sometimes to histories which have been stratified by the empire of knowledge. These traces are to be found both here, and over there, hiding in-between the lines of this text.
Punks playing football with a human skull.
Discreetly installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
While preparing dinner yesterday evening, I received a long awaited phone call. I missed that call, however, so I phoned back immediately. It didn’t even ring once, just a confident greeting on the other end. With clammy hands I began my pacing around the room. He was a doctor, now retired. I suppose he isn’t a ‘real’ doctor, however, as his professional life was spent largely teaching anatomy to painters and sculptors at the Academy. His number had been given to me some weeks ago while asking a few pertinent research questions to the teacher who had now replaced him. I hesitated to call for some time because speaking on the phone makes me nervous — perhaps it’s the intimacy of my ear, pressed against his, mediated by this metal and glass device. I’m much more comfortable writing e-mails.
**In my left ear the kitchen timer on my phone goes off**
Doctor says, now that he’s retired, he’s away more than he is around. He prompts me to ask what I’d like to know as I fumble with my phone to disable my quinoa alarm. I asked him about bones, real ones, which I’d found in two old cardboard boxes — one larger, ragged Evian box and a smaller bankers box with a magenta office supply logo on the long side which reads “EVOLVE” — resting on the bottom shelf of a locked steel cabinet in the Academy. I didn’t mention it to him, but the way these remains had simply been thrown inside felt more like trash kept in an attic than fragments which once made up the bodies of real, living people. He opened with “I don’t know the exact sources but...” and then proceeded to unpack stories with extreme accuracy. From his tone, I could tell it was a light topic; or perhaps he was just enjoying reminiscing on the dead.
“Once a psychotic student of mine called the police!” He laughed.
The kitchen towel I had wrapped over my shoulder perched there patiently waiting to pull the roast vegetables out of the oven. Unaware, he continued. An anecdote, with wavering credibility, about punks in the Groenplaats of Antwerp who, during excavation of the square, paid a contractor 100 francs for a human skull and begin playing football with it. “The whole attitude has changed.” He explained. “You know, there’s legislations now.” Doctor alludes that these wrongdoings are far less commonplace than during the days of anatomical theatres and body snatchers. Perhaps things have changed. And yet, the inklings of these practices have been buried by other debris accumulated over time to become the foundation upon which much of science and academia is built. To be clear: these are not conspiracies covered-up by abstract authorities. Closely followed, the traces of these near and distant pasts lead simultaneously in converging, diverging and parallel directions — sometimes to histories which have been stratified by the empire of knowledge. These traces are to be found both here, and over there, hiding in-between the lines of this text.
Punks playing football with a human skull.
Preserves, 2019.
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Preserves, 2019.
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Preserves, 2019.
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Preserves, 2019.
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Preserves, 2019.
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Seven sand cast copper objects (variable sizes between 15cm - 30cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Brussels Earth, 2019.
Sand, bentonite (50cm x 25cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Sand, bentonite (50cm x 25cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Brussels Earth, 2019.
Sand, bentonite (50cm x 25cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Sand, bentonite (50cm x 25cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Appendix, 2019.
Plaster relief (94cm x 100cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Plaster relief (94cm x 100cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Appendix, 2019.
Plaster relief (94cm x 100cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
Plaster relief (94cm x 100cm)
Descretely installed in the boiler room of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts
Mutsaardstraat 31, 2000 Antwerp, Belgium
email: felixgrapp@gmail.com instagram: @felixarapp