fog which is shrouding an obscured landscape. The quietness is interrupted with suggestive koto

sounds and the almost perceptible rhythm of the fearless warrior's panting. As if the whole

universe had stopped to recoup, the only movements are the synchronized dance of the branches

black acrylic and inks to construct exciting and highly dynamic visuals. Confidently relying on the

familiarity with tools, materials, and the dynamics of the process, adding paint and going darker

emerges as the only way to rectify. Such a one-way route turns the untouched white surface into

the artist’s entry point to the work as well as a getaway out of it. Emphasizing the universal

symbolics of the light and making it that much more precious and fundamental, the technique is

underlining the tension that can at any point tip over.

Fascinated by the power of a few bold gestures on a picture plane, often employed by the

traditional Japanese landscape painters or calligraphers, Christensen's process is founded on the

balance between having control and having no control at all. In that regard he is using specific

materials and preparation methods that require him to work with quick and intuitive mark-making,

fearlessness in the mark-making and the looseness in the brush, scale, boldness, or any given

element that couldn’t be calculated or preplanned. In the end, the limitations of such an approach

confidence and determination, becomes crucial to the work. Disregarding the fear of "messing

things up", the work carries the scars of the process as its distinctive features, accepting it in its

entirety.

With Light in the Fog, Christensen is directing his own ensemble of fantastical theater performers

Kurosawa's movies, Ukiyo prints, as well as traditional Japanese theatre, Kabuki, or Butoh dance.

Treating the sitters as collections of features from which he is sculpting new models on a flat

dynamics. “To me, better than applause is the middle finger,” Christensen states as he

approaches the canvas with a “hit and run” attitude, using the ambiguity of the visuals to reveal his

commitment and confidence. Simply observing the additions or damages of his process and

responding to them by finding ways to turn them into part of the image, he is walking a tightrope

stretched between the limited, almost rudimentary tools and an exclusive palette. And in the

harmonious, highly evocative picture that is ready to either burst into a fierce action or slowly fade

into the backdrop.

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Creative platform The Curators Room is a living, breathing ecosystem that is continuously

developing and molding with each exhibition, each performance, each space, both online and

offline. Committed to encouraging conversations, challenging and questioning the boundaries of

art, and exploring the visions of the art world-to-come, it is a constantly evolving community with

many different, intergenerational, and cross-disciplinary voices. Voices of artists, curators,

thinkers, art lovers, and collectors that act and grow together. On the 7th of April, Nik Christensen:

scale, powerfully atmospheric, black and white ink drawings and paintings. Exploring the friction

between the real and imaginary, he looks for new interpretations, deconstructing and reconfiguring

that which looks familiar. Executed in black sumi ink, a wide range of Japanese brushes and

airbrush. Of working in a medium that morphs as it dries, he has said, “It’s that slight loss of

control that captivates me.”

Over the last 10 years he has spent long periods of time in Kamiyama, a small mountainous town

in Tokushima, Japan, where he keeps a studio. This has allowed him to further research the many

different Japanese materials he uses; brushes, inks and washi papers, all of which have become

increasingly more specific to his practice. Christensen’s work is held in the collections of

Gemeente Museum Den Haag, Stedelijk museum Schiedam and the Dutch Ministry of Foreign