Archivist Regan Elena’s epistemological approach reflects upon the essence of an archive — digital and physical — in anticipation of the culmination of project, Radicale1924.

The archive of Radicale1924 goes beyond that of cultural conservation in its attempt to draw from the eternal and elusive artistic essence that has permeated the medieval village of Saint-Cirq Lapopie for over a century. How best to archive such a mystery ? The collection will not be merely retrospective, possessive, nor chronological. Rather, the archive that unfolds is one that is reactive,  future-oriented and suffused with the imagination (and the people) that made the project possible in the first place. It may be considered among other “liberatory archives”, spanning multiple temporalities and realising the power of shared cultural heritage.

Elena chose not to negate all that is “transient and un-archivable” (Ernest, 2004 and 2010), particularly through automatic prose ‘Archivist Reflections’ inspired by exchanges between the artists involved and art writer and historian, Tamara Beheydt. These interventions, in turn, become part of the ever mutable selection. 

Conversation between Samyra Moumouh, Hans Demeulenaere and Tamara Beheydt in Samyra Mouhmouh’s studio.

19 March 2024

How did you first come into contact with Radicale1924 and how did your collaboration start?

Samyra Moumouh: I’ve known Chantal (Yzermans) for a long time. In 2019, she discussed the idea of starting a residency in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie with me and invited me to the village. That’s the first time I was there, even before Radicale1924 was an operational project. In 2021, the year of the first Parade, Chantal asked me to contribute. I knew I couldn’t be present during the Parade itself, so I proposed a work that she could easily install herself. However, I don’t consider myself an artist – I am an exhibition architect and designer. When it comes to artistic concepts, I prefer to collaborate. So, when Chantal invited me back, I suggested to invite Hans Demeulenaere, with whom I had already had several collaborations in the past.

Hans Demeulenaere: Chantal and I didn’t know each other yet, but Samyra spoke to me about Radicale1924 and vice versa. We had a videocall, and decided that Samyra and I would collaborate on an artistic project for Radicale1924. Indeed, I think our collaborations have been very fruitful. It is interesting for me, who defines myself as an artist, to work with someone who does not. It opens up my practice and gives both of us a sense of freedom. Some works we created together in the past question the conventions around ‘sculpture’, ‘furniture’ and ‘object’. However, we don’t call them ‘furniture’, as they don’t have a large-scale production. They are unique and have an autonomous existence. They can be shown in an exhibition or be a part of an interior.

 What were your experiences of Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, and of the Parade?

HD: I have to say I don’t really feel a connection with the village itself. It feels a bit stifling to me. The first time I was there, my wife and I stayed in a house owned by an American lady who wasn’t there herself. It was very generous of her to let us stay there. Apart from that, we didn’t have that much contact with other inhabitants. With the group of artists, it feels a little bit like a school trip. It’s to be together in a large group, but there is also space to be alone. I don’t have much need for late-night gatherings and things like that. I know there is a photo of that year, 2022, with all the artists together, but when that was made, I was already gone. It reminded me of the residencies at Frans Masereel Centrum in Kasterlee, Belgium. The location itself is a bit isolated and you are there with a group of artists, yet all can choose whether you spend together of focused on your work. 

SM: I have a similar experience. At first, I was a bit weary that we would have to be together as a group the whole time. That is not the case. There is time together, and time apart. Everyone decides for themselves when they take time to work.

What was the first work you created together for Radicale1924?

SM: We created a video as a registration of a performative gesture, inspired by Edward Krasinski, who did several interventions with lines of blue tape. Hans tracked one room in Maison Breton with blue tape, while I filmed. The tracing of the space with one continuous line speaks about (re-) claiming a space, both physically and in art.

HD: It was a statement, a conceptual artistic intervention. I think the museum staff might have been a bit suspicious. Anyway, it made sense for us, to use a limited time-frame to claim a space. We did an intervention, but removed it again and no one saw the action in itself. What remained, was the registration of the action, in the form of a video installation. During the Parade that year, in 2022, the video was shown in Maisons Daura, because Maison Breton was still in the process of being renovated. We thought the connection between these two artists and their houses was interesting.

Then, for the Parade of 2023, you created a completely different work, but also with a certain connection to both of these artists, Breton and Daura.

 HD: I had noticed some chairs at Maison Breton. Not everything in the museum is authentic, but they have some original chairs that belonged to Breton. Chantal sent us photos. We created two objects based on one of them. Someone at Maisons Daura saw them and pointed out that one had a square shape and one had a circular shape. That made them refer to ‘Cercle et Carré, the movement of abstract artists to which Daura was associated and which was a counterweight for surrealism. That was an interesting link to us and we decided to continue on this path, rather than working around Breton or surrealism. 

 The work for the upcoming exhibition in 2024 is a continuation of this idea?

 SM: We were inspired by this idea of ‘Cercle et Carré’ – circle and square. We both searched our libraries and marked every image that combined those two shapes. Out of that source material, we selected 13 images that we translated into new objects. The number of 13 is a coincidence – we originally wanted to have 12, one for each month, but ended up with 13 of them.

HD: We did end up with objects resembling furniture again. They are all completely made from the same material, green chipboard. All the parts are screwed or glued together. Samyra made detailed construction drawings. I need to see a 1:1 model to know that it will work as an object. These try-outs are done in my studio in Bruges. That’s where the final designs are assembled.

SM: This year, in May, we will show these 13 objects at Maisons Daura. Afterwards, they will travel to an exhibition in Ghent, in the office space of the architect Bart Dehaene. There, we will also present a limited-edition publication, containing the model drawings of the works.

HD: I think it’s interesting to allow every object to be recreated by the public. In the spirit of Enzo Mari, I like the idea that everyone can put this piece together. We are collaborating with the graphic designer  Pierre Martin Vielcazat to translate each object into a graphic model. We could print them in a publication or as posters, spread throughout the village of Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, that could also be interesting.

Interview between Simona Mihaela Stoia and Tamara Beheydt in the artist’s studio,

31 January 2024

An important undercurrent in your work is the relation between humans and animals, or nature, and a sense of loss concerning that connection. A sense of a ‘lost paradise’. Where does that come from? 

When I was a child, growing up in a village in Romania, I saw my grandmother harvesting the grain. She left part of the harvest for the deer that she knew would come out to eat later. This had a great effect on my life. I grew up surrounded by nature and animals, and on equal terms with them. This was in 1988. We have evolved since then, but did we get better? We have so much more access to knowledge and information. At the same time, maybe my grandmother had a different wisdom. We understand more scientifically, in school we learn more (my grandmother only had four years of school). But there is a wisdom we lost. My grandmother could say ‘oh, it will rain’ because of the direction of the wind, the smells in the air, etc. She could predict it, and it was always true. It was knowledge, not some sort of sorcery. Compared to that, there is a disconnection happening in our contemporary society. Of course we also enjoy nature, but usually only if it follows our rules. 

After leaving Romania and coming to Belgium, you studied painting at KASK and graduated in 2019. How did you know you wanted to paint? 

From early on, although I knew very little about art, I felt that painting was the only medium that allowed me to ‘see things’. I knew I could create the illusion of objects, textures, colours, … In the small town where I grew up, the communist mindset lingered on and, for a long time, I didn’t have any access to art except social realism. So, when I wanted to become a painter, everyone around me seemed to think it was stupid. I first finished law school and started working as a jurist in a small company. A lot of my official documents and files had drawings on the edges. All the time, I had this need to put something out there. When I came to Belgium I was painting every day. I was just painting nonsense, I had no plan, but I felt the need to work. Finally, I visited KASK, and it was the first time in my life that I felt at home. The smell of the studios, the people, how they dressed, how they behaved, everything felt normal. So, I dived into it. 

From the very beginning, did you want to explore the connection between humans and animals or nature? 

It was always there, but I was working on other things. At school, we start from to do life drawing, still life, etc. Toward the end of my education, these themes showed themselves to me. It was subconscious. It was a form of unrest. Something was there, even if I didn’t understand it completely. If I understood it, I wouldn’t paint it. That why we have visual arts. There are things you cannot grasp with language and other communication. I like to leave room for questions. Like a good poem: you understand it at the age you read it, but later you understand it differently. It grows on you.

How did you get into contact with Radicale1924 and how did you travel to Saint-Cirq-Lapopie for the first time? 

In the beginning of 2022, I had an exhibition in Antwerp, as a part of a series of shows curated by Hans Theys. Chantal (Yzermans) visited the show and contacted me afterwards. Our first contacts happened through video calls. She told me about the project and it sounded fascinating. I went to Saint-Cirq-Lapopie for the parade in September 2022. 

What was your experience of the village that first time? 

The village was very impressive, there is a medieval atmosphere, it’s like you step back in time. I stayed for about five days. The first two or three days I just walked around, learned about the local history, etc. What impressed me, was the combination of medieval buildings, but also modernity: there are lots of renovations happening, facilities being built. By walking in the smaller back streets, you realize that the main streets are re-conditioned. It is tricky. All over the village, there are signs of modernity. I visited the church, I think it’s from the 13th century, and went to the river. Two things impressed me a lot, that still haunt me today: this, and the light. And for the piece that I sent over the following year, for the Parade in 2023, I worked around that light. 

You have created two works for Radicale1924 so far, one in 2022 and one in 2023. They are both different from you normally do, they are not paintings in the strict sense. Does that have to do with the effect of the context, of the environment, making you want to create differently? 

There are several reasons why Saint-Cirq-Lapopie triggered me to do things I never do. Firstly, I didn’t carry with me any materials or canvas etc. Secondly, the place has so much impressions. When I was walking on the streets that were not renovated (and you can hardly walk there), I felt like I was walking in the footsteps of who came before, people 100 years ago, also artists. It is a kind of mirage, it has a power. Thirdly, as a child I was always collecting things I found. I still collect things when I walk and I see an interesting shape. For me it is a way to interact with the environment. Comfort, the work I created in 2022, was an installation. I didn’t have much time. I created the work while being there, in the days before the Parade. 

For me, the work was like a painting, with found materials, from everywhere in the village. It is about Saint-Cirq-Lapopie being in constant transformation. We add all kinds of things to it – canalization, electricity – to make it more complete for our era. It becomes like a body. And this work functioned in the same way: it had m&ms, stones, pebbles, figs, etc. There was life in it. I wanted the viewer to experience the installation like the whole body of Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, and it didn’t make sense to make it just with lifeless things. I also weaved plants into it. When I go back, I will have to add to the work – the village will have changed, so the work must too. 

Comfort II, my work for 2023, was based on the light. There were moments in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie when I felt like I was on the seaside, because of the colours. There is a particular light ocre colour on the rock that the houses are built with, and then moments later, it can all go dark, greyish. That impressed me. The light is glowing and disappearing and coming back again. Above Maison Routier, there is a sort of garden. From there, you can see the whole Lot valley. The green becomes spring green. And in another moment, it can become a foul green.

This piece was a kind of automatic drawing. I made it back in Belgium, so I couldn’t see the light as it was in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie. I thought it was best to let the subconscious speak, the feeling that I had in my body when I experienced it, which is even better than memory. I allowed it. I experienced the power of the subconscious without caring about a certain aesthetic. There are two important elements in this work: there needs to be light, and the viewer has to have a certain position. Since I could not be there myself, it was up to Chantal to show it properly, and I think she did, even though the work is impossible to capture on photos. 

Why did you choose the title Comfort for both works? 

I was thinking about the state of the houses and their transformations. For me now, it is almost inconceivable to go to the toilet outside in the middle of the winter. But when I think about it: hundreds of generations did that. They had good lives. Everything we do and add to the village is not essential, it’s comfort. If you talk about essential, then it was good the way it was. I don’t judge that, it’s an observation. We are occupied with much more than our basic needs and it costs much more. My thoughts around this also have to do with Romanian villages, when I was young. The generations of my grandparents, they found a piece of land, maybe given by their parents, and all their friends came together and built them a house, that could stay there for hundreds of years. However, there was no electricity, plumbing, etc. That’s the difference. 

You live in a smaller town in Belgium, and you mentioned you felt like coming here because of the village context you grew up in. Here, an artist might be an exception in the community. However, small village of Saint-Cirq-Lapopie has always attracted artists. How does it feel to be there in a community of artists? 

Being in a village makes me feel balanced, complete, safe. I believe we have chaos and we have order. For me, to have order I need to be in an environment where I feel safe and the calm of the village gives me that. I can be in a city, but it makes me tired and leaves no space in my mind to be creative. 

In Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, you immediately feel you belong. That is also the merit of Chantal, who knows how to put something together, and invited all the artists – all of them were kind people, we had amazing conversations, maybe even more deep than we could have had here in Belgium. Maybe it has to do with an energy of the past, when artists came there and created together, maybe helped each other, found the same safe place. They left their ghosts behind. Maybe that’s the reason the artists today feel good there. I felt in a safe space. Everyone was there to create, to transform. There was a kind of magic. The Parade felt like a pilgrimage. To experience every work and give it time, felt mind-blowing. It’s not like in an exhibition when you are surrounded by works. Here you can experience one work at a time, and as a part of the village, so it gives it power. 

Maybe it was like this for André Breton too: a kind of refuge, a place to be safe, be with his art, have a perspective, literally. It’s quite an isolated village, it’s small and on top of a rock. It’s attractive because it’s secluded. At the same time, Breton constantly invited friends. There is a dynamic between getting away, creating distance, but at the same time the generosity of sharing this experience. 

Well, think of it as a really good cake. It’s better when you share it with others than when you eat it by yourself in a corner. I think that’s the case for Breton and also Radicale1924. They invite everyone else to experience this. Saint-Cirq-Lapopie was at some point considered the most beautiful village of France with a reason. There is a kind of magic there, you don’t have to be an artist to experience it. Everything is built on top of each other, everything is in layers. The buildings on the hill, but also the vegetation against the stone, etc. It’s almost a fairytale. There is also an artificial side to it, yet the magic is still there, and it makes me wonder, what will it look like in fifty years? 

What is surrealism to you, how close is it to what you do? I could see some surrealistic elements in your painting, but at the same time it is very easy to call something “surreal”. 

Before going to Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, I never questioned surrealism. I knew about it, and it interested me, but I was rather coming back to baroque, expressionism and abstract expressionism. My artistic career hasn’t been very long yet, I graduated in 2019. But Saint-Cirq-Lapopie gave me so much. I read Breton’s First manifesto of surrealism before going there, and I was intrigued by some things in it and by his presence in the village. 

I can see or feel that your works are not purely rational thought-out compositions. The work is not cerebral. Isn’t there always a level of the subconscious in your work? Like you are painting something that was always there, in a sense? 

The work that I created for Radicale1924 in 2023, as an automatic drawing, seemed natural It was triggered by surrealism because by that time, I was looking at surrealism. And then more consciously, I started looking at my work in general and seeing things that maybe I didn’t see this clearly before. For example, this sense of lost paradise comes with a sense of escapism. This world with all the wars and capitalism is not necessarily nice to look at. 

The other important thing I found in my work, is the subconscious. When you have ideas or inspiration, it’s usually voluntary thoughts. The subconscious consists of involuntary thoughts. I have that a lot. Breton speaks of that. It’s like being haunted. Images are formed in my mind and I am triggered by them and other images follow, but I don’t know where they come from exactly. Certain shapes come together, but you can’t trace it logically. This is what I see and experience myself as a level of surrealism in my work. 

I go outside, I see things they generate something else. I don’t know why. And then I have to go back out in the real world, and search for subject matter, to actually put on the canvas. That’s the challenging part. The idea is so pure, but when you put it out, it starts to diminish. How do I keep it as sharp, as vivid, as it was in my mind? There is a transparency, an abstraction in my work that is connected to the subconscious. The experience in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie made me see this clearer. I didn’t fully grasp this before. For my art practice, and my awareness of what I’m doing, being there has been extremely important. 

What was your experience meeting the other artists who visited Radicale1924 during the Parade?
Firstly, I discovered that most of the artists there struggled with the same things I struggle with as an artist. They have the same questions, or had answers to my questions, which means they experienced this themselves. For me this is important, I often feel like I’m by myself. I felt like I was in a community there, there were people that went through some steps that I was going through at that moment. Being there in a group, in a network, meant a lot to me. It gave me confidence. 

What do you have planned for the exhibition project in 2024? 

I treasure the experience I had during my first stay in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie. Now it is transforming, and I look forward to it. I would like to paint there. 

Apart from my studio here in Ottenburg, I only paint in Romania, when I go there in summer. In part, I paint there because it is inevitable. When I don’t paint for a while, I become anxious. The first years that I went back, I couldn’t paint there, but now I confront what is there for me, I can engage in my past. It is like playing also, I feel like a child, thinking ‘what happens if I do this, if I do that?’ There are rivers there, I can swim, bathe my feet, walk around. It gives me peace and a sense of belonging with nature.

There is something in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie that makes me feel similar, because of the general surrounding and the way everything is built manually. Everything there stays local, local-made, not ‘touristic’ is a visibly consumerist way. This is something from my childhood: walking around a village with local manufacturers. There is a sense of pure life there. I walked to the castle and the entire road, I thought about all the labor that went into it: bringing all the stones, the materials up there, etc. When I say I want to paint in Saint-Cirq-Lapopie, I’m thinking about the experience of paint and colour there. I don’t have a specific painting in mind yet, but using the brushes and paint there will be different, will be an experience, I want to feel that.