Vlla Op Vrijdag

The promise and the mistake

Vlla Op Vrijdag is an arts event celebrating the works of art collective Kulter, who will be taking up residence at Vlla, an open space often used to hold clubbing events.  Kulter is a collective that focuses on creative cross-overs between art, performance, music, and prose. The collective is officially "homeless" and takes residence in different spaces. This event was to last from 6pm until 3am and advertised itself as an experience that would satisfy both the visual and auditory senses. The event promised a collaborative art activity, poetry readings, music artists ranging from electronic to acoustic, and surprises throughout the night—a wonderful smorgasbord of different art forms. 

The Vlla is tucked away, hidden in a sandwich that consisted of the ingredients in this exact order: park, small supermarket, Vlla, abandoned lot, gas station, more trees. Bite into this sandwich and, compared to the bustle of Amsterdam city center, you will sense you are in the middle of nowhere. It's located in West Amsterdam, most practically accessed via bus or tram. Take the bus 18 from Centraal station for 18 stops before arriving at Jan Tooropstraat/Postjesweg, which drops you off right in front of the venue. After half an hour the Vlla comes into view; it's a modest-sized two-story building with a bold mural of black and white striped-thatch pattern and a promising sign: "HARD TO FIND EASY TO LOVE." This was the promise.  Then, there was the mistake. 

As an individual who rarely parties, I made a rookie error: never show up to a party on time—god forbid before it's dark outside. I arrived at Vlla at 7:45pm; however, when I stepped inside the silence told me that it wasn't late enough. It was still bright outside. The sunlight shining on the walls created a bright white ambiance that underscored the emptiness. Without the presence of any other bright colors in the event space, the white walls felt sterile. There were a few male musicians on the bottom floor setting up the stereo system, three female sketch artists on the balcony floorspace on the second floor, and me.

Vlla facade. Mural and sign: "HARD TO FIND EASY TO LOVE"

Playing with space

The lack of energy in Vlla at 7:45pm drew attention to the venue itself. Despite being a venue used often for clubbing or as a bar, the interior was very sterile, very simple. The contrast between the blank interior and the fun-spirited cross-hatch patterned exterior was slightly jarring. Vlla consists of two stories. The first floor has a few tables, a small stage, and a lot of space for standing. The second story consisted of a balcony platform from which onlookers view the small stage below. The blank walls made the loudest statement: white expanse stretching from all sides, interrupted by hooks for hanging art, holes where hooks once resided, and peeling paint that made the venue feel rather shabby. 

On the one hand, this white expanse was like a blank canvas that allowed the venue to be transformed by the artists who present there. There were already a few on the second floor balcony hanging their artwork. A projector projected a white rectangle onto the wall. The idea of "dressing up" a place for an evening, eventually hiding the blemishes and shabbiness with art, could be considered an art performance in itself.

On the other hand, this venue could benefit greatly from a more lively interior. The blanks walls are well suited for large-scale murals of color and pattern. As a club it caters to a younger, "hip" generation of Amsterdam party-goers; colorful art murals could be a welcome complement to the electronic music activities there. 

Playful art or child’s play?

There were two main art exhibits being set up. On the second floor, three artists hung up modest-sized abstract art pieces onto string stretched diagonally from wall to wall about two feet above eye-level.  One artist focused on the interplay of scribbling lines and solid shapes, and the repetition of marker strokes. Another artist created minimalist drawings suggestive of a woman's breasts. The third artist mixed watercolors to create lines and circles whose borders became indistinguishable as the watercolor inks spread. The repetition was satisfying, as was the interplay of negative and positive space. The artists had unique styles but also complemented each other well. The pieces were all abstract. Most were bold and colorful, relying principally on fully saturated primary and secondary colors.

Unfortunately the presentation lacked sophistication. The art pieces were hung amateurishly with either binder clips or tape, which implied little forethought. Art is impacted greatly by its context and environment: for example, the frame it’s mounted on, the gallery space, descriptions on plaques, and the artist's statement. These artworks, around fifteen in total, were simply hung in sloppy rows from string. While this could be a simplistic, intentionally humble presentation of artwork in order to draw attention to the art itself, these pieces were too modest for such treatment. The artwork seemed to beg for something that validated their artistic worth, whether a frame, a backing mount, or a typed description explaining the pieces. Furthermore, some of the watercolors were still wet, and the process of drying had caused the paper to wrinkle (a classic sign of someone who had used low-quality sketching paper that wasn’t designed to handle wetness.) Without more context to guide the viewer, the art seemed to have been created haphazardly. Indeed one of the artists confirmed, "We just finished making these quickly in the afternoon."

Art certainly does not require fancy supplies or opulent framing to make it appealing; however, the simplicity and small scale of this particular artwork leaves the viewer longing for something more in the presentation. Hanging from a string, the art seems more like decor. Hung up two feet above eye-level, they are reminiscent of Tibetan prayer flags or holiday decorations, pretty, but insignificant. There was even one artwork that dangled precariously from its upper-left corner; the upper-right corner had slipped from its binder clip and no one had bothered to fix it. The presentation was sloppy and amateurish, like child’s play.

Noticeable wrinkles from the watercolor wetness in the bottom-most art piece

Interplay of grotesque and beautiful

Hidden around the bend on the first floor was a set of three collages mounted on canvas painted black. These compositions, by artist Stefan Yordanov, consisted of cover girl magazine cut-outs pieced together to form a face that was warped and grotesque, yet beautiful in its texture and its flow of lines. It evokes the younger, clubbing demographic most likely to attend this event later in the night, because it speaks to vanity and the media’s obsession with body image. The collages are comprised of lead the eyes from top to bottom; the lines imitate the striations of muscle, as if skin had been stripped away form these models' faces. The process itself is interesting to consider: in these artworks, the grotesque and the mutated are formed from cover girl models' faces—what had been the "epitome of beautiful." The emergence of the bizarre from the beautiful is especially compelling. 

Two of Stefan Yordanov's collages that were on display in Vlla

A promise still far, far away

Despite the scarcity of art and the lack of an audience, it was still possible to imagine what the venue would look like around 1AM: dimmed lights, performers, chatter, and beer. Poetry, music, film, ambiance, exquisite corpse collaborations, interactions, abstract paintings—the event seemed like a wonderful combination of the arts. Alas, it only took a second for the bare walls and silence to instantly bring the dreamer back to reality.