By Marvin Hokstam
PARAMARIBO, Suriname, CMC – Don’t get Erwin de Vries going about topics he considers cliché – like the fact that he has themed much of his prized artwork erotically. At 82, Suriname’s master artist may appear frail and like a relic from a distant past as he sits at his personal table at ‘T Vat bistro, but he’s still got that quick wit that will keep you on your toes.
“Why does the subject of erotica come up in each and every interview I do? It’s like sex is taboo, while we all do it … we all came from it,” he snarls.
The answer to his question may be obvious: de Vries, or Uncle Erwin as he is lovingly called, did devote quite some time during his lengthy career to producing sexually under-toned artwork. A “de Vries” is easily recognizable by the seemingly incoherent, colourful lines that come together to form a woman – or a man – or both, engaged in pleasuring each other.
Erwin has done it all: from the near pornographic paintings that adorn the walls of art-minded people and companies all over the world, to the gigantic erect penis – with equally oversized testicles – pointing upward in a courtyard in Amsterdam.
“I love the human body in all its forms, and am not ashamed to declare such,” he says. “People should be honest. We are all erotic beings. Just say the truth. If you know people are having sex in the room next door and there’s a peephole, won’t you be tempted to peep through? Why are people ashamed to admit that they masturbate from time to time? Who doesn’t enjoy the occasional porn film? We’re all engaged erotically on a regular basis. Anyone who is not should put themselves through a medical test.”
He then steers away from erotica, obviously bored with the subject, and he’s right, because his body of work does include many non-erotic pieces. He sticks his hand in his bag full of unfinished drawings of women-like subjects and pulls out a colourful catalogue that was printed a few years ago, narrating the story of his life and his career. It takes the reader around the world, from Europe, to New York, Jamaica and back, where he has exhibited his work and where his work remains on display permanently.
“I am the only non-Caucasian whose work is in the Royal Museum in Amsterdam. I have 30 sculptures all over the Netherlands. Name any other non-Caucasian who does (and) there are not that many white artists who do either. Most have four or five. Not thirty!” he says, proud of this achievement but still honestly realistic about the fact that his talent would have taken him much further had he been white – or had The Netherlands been a bit more accepting of non-whites.
“That’s just how it is up there. At first they resisted giving me my accolades, but they couldn’t get around the fact that I had talent,” he says.
And the accolades poured in. Erwin has been named Honorary Citizen of Amsterdam, is Suriname’s Ambassador of Art, and has received the highest decorations from Suriname, The Netherlands and the Caribbean. And then to think that his father, the well-known Surinamese businessman H.J. de Vries, was a bit sceptical when the noted artist Wim Bos-Verschuur spotted talent in young Erwin.
“Wim Bos Verschuur advised my dad to send me to Holland to study art, and my father at first said, “why, he can’t even count!”
I didn’t ask Erwin whether he proved his father wrong and learned how to count when he set off to Holland. Probably because I figured that any artist who has sold as many pieces as he has must know how to add and subtract. He probably wouldn’t have dignified a question about his earnings with an answer anyway, because while he has collected a six-figure sum for his signature piece, the Slavery Monument in Amsterdam, the payment is not what he is most proud of.
“That I was chosen (from) among 30 artistes who submitted designs for the job was great. But to hear about people who literally cry when they visit the sculpture is heart-warming. It means that piece stands for what it is supposed to stand for. It’s a great compliment to an artist to know that he has achieved what he was supposed to with his art,” he says. “It was an emotional sculpture for me to produce because I am a child of slavery, too. My great-great grandmother was a slave. Those were horrific times,” he says, describing his attachment to the slavery sculpture as dignifying.
Still, despite all he’s done and achieved, simplicity seems the aging artist’s trademark. He sits inconspicuously at his painted table at ‘T Vat every night, chain smoking, his beard bushy and white, wearing the same faded batik shirt over the other, his feet stuck in worn-out sandals.
“Many people don’t know what I have done … that i have exhibited together with the likes of Picasso and other big names. That doesn’t seem to mean that much here,” he says.
But it’s not like his days of “doing” are over.
“I still work, and will continue to as long as I can. I got a few contracts and I am thinking of doing a bust of writer Clark Accord who recently passed away because I think he was a great countryman. And I enjoy sitting here at this table that I got from the owners of ‘T Vat, under the open sky. And, yes, while I still can, I also continue to enjoy erotica,” he says with a grin.
CMC mh/jg/2011