Deelstra: ‘Due to Bolsenaro’s climate-destructive policies , the beautiful Brazilian jungle gave way to industrial zones, livestock farming, and palm oil plantations. I couldn’t ignore the images and news feeds. The result was Progress and Prosperity (2020), a series about the effects of economic gain on nature.’

The title references the words on the Brazilian flag. Although Deelstra is tormented by concerns and pessimism, he strives to make this series appear alluring. The artworks are approachable, inviting viewers to engage with them. However, those who carefully absorb the depicted worlds quickly realise that the works are saturated with warnings. This unexpected contrast between childlike optimism and profound darkness is another characteristic element seen in Deelstra’s work.

Deelstra has witnessed the untouched forests as well as the seemingly endless livestock farming and plantations with his own eyes. The precarious relationship between the pristine and the man-made is a theme that the artist enjoys working with. Deelstra: ‘In the Netherlands, I’m confronted daily with the apparent manageability of nature. Nothing grows wild or spontaneously; everything

is premeditated. I find the urge for control fascinating. By using geometric frameworks,

I translate the need for control and break away from spontaneity.’

‘The catastrophic predictions of our policies can be surreal. Now, I’m at a stage in life where I might want to bring children into the world, but like many others, I’m unsure if I should be within this environment. Is this planet becoming increasingly uninhabitable, or will humanity come up with clever ways to escape ecological disasters? Should we, as humans, increase our control, or do the opposite, and let natural processes take their course?

In 2017, Deelstra’s path crossed with that of Brahim, a devout Muslim and employee in

the vegetable department at Albert Heijn.

The encounter between Deelstra and Brahim blossomed into a friendship, shaped by their frequent conversations and coffee moments by the vending machine in the store. It is precisely Brahim who plays a crucial role in the creation of the paintings in this meaningful series.

The You in Me (2018) came to light during

a time when the Dutch populist Party for Freedom (PVV) was the second-largest political party in the Netherlands. The political landscape was permeated with a tendency to cast specific population groups in a negative light. The sharpness and inhumanity with which some politicians, even on the highest governmental level, made their statements filled Deelstra with disgust.

Deelstra longed for a deeper, more nuanced portrayal of identity and its flexibility, especially during times of polarisation. Instead of being dragged into the division, he decided to seek reconciliation. With this goal in mind, he turned to Brahim and proposed shadowing him for a period, aiming to gain a deeper understanding of the complexity of similarities and differences among people. Brahim agreed, and for the following eight months, Deelstra embedded himself in his life.

Deelstra: ‘During those months, I often visited his home and got to know his wife and daughter. I followed Brahim closely and immersed myself entirely in his personal world. And all

of this while we both live in Amsterdam, are the same age, both identify as male, live in the same neighbourhood, and shop at the same supermarket: yet our lives are miles apart. With this project, I confronted my own prejudices.’

Using sketches, Deelstra documented his observations, creating a sort of diary of the eight months spent with Brahim. Deelstra: ‘By talking to him, spending time together, analyzing his life story, and ultimately painting myself into his world, the gap between us grew smaller, and stigmas disappeared. Although the paintings themselves reinforce stereotypes because, with the images I select and shape, I idealize the world of the other. I have not yet found the most sincere and objective way of connecting.’

Sculpture & Assembly

These sculptures started out as an escape from my painting. When I’m too afraid to continue painting, I start working on new techniques to ease the mind. I counld’t help but fall in love with working three-dimensionally. Just ‘messing around’ in materials I don’t fully control is a blast. I’m quite content with the results.

The figures in ceramic clay are hatching the next generation. Their upcoming parenthood weighs heavily on some, others take it lightly. In any case, they are having a meeting how the world should look like for the next generation. What will be their values? What will we teach them, in an ever-changing world?

Mexico y Muerte

Early November, Mexico City. It's Dia de los Muertos. The rubble of the earthquake is still scattered in some streets. While the altars are bright and the Mezcal is flowing, it might be the perfect time to think and learn about death. 
The markets are filled with statues of creepy saints holding money and skulls. The witch markets are equally fascinating. When I arrive at the National Museum of Anthropology I notice that Mexicans are quite occupied with the afterlife even in Pre-Hispanic times. The Mayans and Aztecs seemed nonchalant about death, and see it as a part of life. This life we have is just a phase, followed by some more. So why worry? 
I lived in Mexico for almost two months. My impressions can be found here.