A Lyricism of the Sea
With charcoal images, Joren Van Acker writes a lyricism of the sea.
His drawings, in which elements of past and present converge, flow together in a shared emotional landscape that bears witness to the artist’s closeness to his subjects. Dockworkers, shipyards, control rooms, skippers, vessels, and seascapes are illuminated from within, unfolding what weighs heavily on the heart. Loneliness and melancholy are rendered with gentleness, as though they were fragile soap bubbles that shatter if one is not careful. A cinematic sense of framing and timing introduces a constant tension. Something is about to happen. But what?
Van Acker looks deeply into the images he gathers. He draws them directly from his own professional experience in maritime life, but just as readily from the books and films he continuously studies. The process of selection is endless. He is drawn to desolate images that evoke a personal memory while simultaneously containing something beautiful. Images that bring the inner lives of dockworkers to the surface. Or storm-laden scenes veiled in an atmosphere of impending threat. They are cut, pasted, shifted and rearranged, sketched over and reworked—from the studio wall to the paper itself, where compositions emerge as if from nowhere. Through direct and swift charcoal strokes, the artist carefully animates a play of light and shadow.
The world Van Acker draws on paper lies close to his heart. He translates the impact of a harsh environment from something raw into a gentle emotion, revealing how deeply he understands what is happening beneath the surface. Bodies worn down like fragile machines, standing defenceless against their circumstances, possess a sensitivity that is difficult to touch. A sense of Weltschmerz remains behind glass: visible, yet elusive. Something has slipped away from the people he draws. When resilience breaks, so too does the tension between hope and stagnation. Tired dreams lie buried beneath the dust. Titles introduce a linguistic layer into Van Acker’s work. They linger and circle the studio wall, waiting until the right image grows onto the paper. Among drawings, sketches, ideas, and reference images, strips of tape bearing sentences and isolated words cling to the wall like a poem in the making. They originate from thoughts or from music—fragments that add another layer to the black pigment, steering it in unexpected directions.
For Van Acker, the sea is one vast interconnected world, held together by a cumulative body of knowledge, science, and industry. Everything that was developed and refined in the past has led to the intricate network that exists today. It is therefore no surprise that historical and contemporary scenes meet within his work, like a sequence of dissolving slides that together form a feature-length film. Understanding life at sea is simply the next take. A warm familiarity emanates from the charcoal marks. This is where the artist feels at home. The contradictions of the sea, so recognisable to him, mirror inner turmoil—always searching for action in the hope of finding peace of mind.
Van Acker sees the sea and its industries as a vast organ that silently drives our society from the background, while far from public view much goes awry for those who keep this organism alive. The sea is both free and turbulent. It is endlessly open, yet never offers unlimited freedom of movement. It beckons. It cannot be grasped. It leaves the willing explorer suspended in an uneasy balancing act, one that Van Acker gives form through his images. It is everything.
Yasmin Van ’t Veld
