In the beginning there were horses: prone, fighting to rise. They have succeeded. And more so: by the fierce vitality of the movement they have crossed the divide into birdlike beings on slender legs, like dancers loose themselves from the ground. Everything reaches out, to space, where the battle unfolds - flickering valiantly in the wind. Wind is not apparent, wind is to the touch. The skin, the hair. Wind is the breath of space. An ancient symbol of the spirit, the soul - it is the unseen that brings to life the visible.
And whoever views these forms is aware of this wind and the very tension before the leap. Space is wind, is motion in the creations of Evert Arensman. They mock gravity, they cast themselves into the wind. They want to fly, bracing themselves. The tension calls into being many associations: is it a gesture of liberation? Or an unveiling - as though wind tears the clothes? Or maybe the dynamism of the instant which Nijhoff describes in his poem 'The dancer', the force that
…compels the birth of gestures whose
controlled haste and restrained grace
tighten the pace before liberation.
They are always intriguing to see. Even static, upright, like his warriorfigures inspired by the Masai, their posture challenges. Confident, with the knowledge of their means, they tempt space…they may ascend…