ECHO, 2024
A solo exhibition (open for public), Amsterdam Court House, April 3 until June 27, 2024.
Within the solemn halls of the Amsterdam Courthouse, where the complexities of justice meet society, the polished stone walls starkly contrast Aldo’s use of humble materials such as soil, cardboard, and wood.
The exhibition Echo is a voyage that beckons viewers to delve deeper into their emotions and experiences. Each piece serves as a gateway into van den Broek’s introspective odyssey, set against a backdrop where the concepts of right and wrong are in constant flux, fostering a sense of engagement and connection with the artwork.
The exhibition encourages viewers to reconsider their roles and the weight of their responsibilities. Avoiding, judging, and embracing are all entangled in intricate gestures that evoke feelings of guilt and shame, intertwining with the daily life within the halls of justice.
The exhibition Echo is a voyage that beckons viewers to delve deeper into their emotions and experiences. Each piece serves as a gateway into van den Broek’s introspective odyssey, set against a backdrop where the concepts of right and wrong are in constant flux, fostering a sense of engagement and connection with the artwork.
The exhibition encourages viewers to reconsider their roles and the weight of their responsibilities. Avoiding, judging, and embracing are all entangled in intricate gestures that evoke feelings of guilt and shame, intertwining with the daily life within the halls of justice.
TAIPEI DANGDAI, 2024
SOM gallery, Booth DG07, May 9 until May 12, 2024.
SOM gallery featuring the works of Aldo van den Broek and Johnny Mae Hauser at TAIPEI DANGDAI artfair, Taiwan.This exhibition is a follow-up to the duo presentation, ‘UNDERCURRENT’, at the gallery in Tokyo late 2023.
Undercurrent, 2023
Duo exhibition, SOM Gallery, Tokyo, Japan. September 29 / October 22, 2023.
Johnny Mae Hauser and Aldo van den Broek converge in the theme of "UNDERCURRENT" by spotlighting the quieter, often unnoticed facets of human life.
Hauser's photography captures the enigmatic realm of emotions with serene and introspective images, characterized by soft and cool color schemes. These visuals invite viewers to explore introspection, isolation, and emotional intimacy, challenging conventional ways of seeing photography.
In contrast, van den Broek navigates societal undercurrents through his textured artworks, often inspired by metropolises, desolate landscapes, and the mysteries of strangers. His choice of materials, such as discarded cardboard, wood, fabrics, plastic, and metals, breathes life into his pieces.
Both artists urge us to take a closer look at the subtleties of our own experiences, inviting a profound connection with the concealed currents of human existence.
ハウザーとヴァン・デン・ブロークは、本展示タイトルでもある「UNDERCURRENT」というテーマで、人間生活の平穏で、しばしば見過ごされる側面に焦点を当てることで共鳴しています。
ハウザーの写真は、ソフトでクールな配色を特徴とする静謐で内省的なイメージを持ち、人間が持つ感情の神秘的な領域を捉えています。
これらのビジュアルは、従来の写真の見方を超えて、鑑賞者に内省、孤独、感情的な親密さを探求するよう誘います。その結果、鑑賞者は、ハウザーの作品を見ているままに感じ取り、経験そのものに焦点を当てることになります。
対照的に、ヴァン・デン・ブロークは、大都会や荒涼とした風景、見知らぬ人々の謎めいた部分からインスピレーションをもらい、質感のある作品を通して、社会の奥底に存在するものを探求します。廃棄された段ボール、木、布、プラスチック、金属など、彼の素材選びは、作品に生命を吹き込みます。
両作家とも、私たちに自分自身の体験の機微な部分にじっくりと目を向け、人間という存在の隠れた奥深さに感受性を持って触れるよう強く促しています。
Vacuum, 2023
Solo exhibition, Vriend van Bavink Gallery, Amsterdam, The Netherlands. May 12 / June 24, 2023.
In Vacuum, Aldo van den Broek explores the fragility of masculinity, examining how men navigate the thin line between emotional vulnerability and societal expectations of strength. Through a series of intimate portraits, van den Broek captures moments of male camaraderie in hyper-masculine environments: from soccer hooligans celebrating victory to Moldavian men in a sauna, naked and engaged in ritualistic acts meant to stimulate blood circulation. These settings, dominated by physicality and toughness, unexpectedly reveal glimpses of tenderness and connection. How does male vulnerability emerge in spaces defined by strength?
Van den Broek draws inspiration from figures like Boris Ryzhy, the Russian poet and champion boxer, whose life embodied the tension between outward toughness and inner sensitivity. Ryzhy’s struggle to reconcile his literary world with the expectations of Russian male circles becomes a central reference in van den Broek’s exploration of men caught between emotional worlds. How can men balance toughness with tenderness when neither seems fully accepted?
Van den Broek’s travels frequently place him in masculine environments, and after a period of introspection in Japan, he realized that his work consistently captures masculine men at their most fragile—moments of emotional exposure rather than displays of strength. His portraits emphasize physical closeness, yet consciously omit accessories or symbols of power—no guns, no objects of aggression—so as not to detract from the deeper emotional layers. How do we see men differently when stripped of symbols of dominance?
The subjects in van den Broek’s portraits avoid eye contact, their gazes averted, suggesting the discomfort men often feel when expressing emotional closeness. Whether in the heat of a soccer victory or the intimacy of a sauna, these men are captured in moments where physical interactionbecomes a socially acceptable outlet for emotional connection. How do men use physicality as a way to express emotion in environments that discourage vulnerability? While these scenes appear steeped in toughness, they reveal men’s need for connection through socially permissible acts—hugs, rituals, or even the rough physicality of sports.
Van den Broek’s exploration of masculinity uncovers the tension between public displays of strengthand the private need for connection. His portraits reveal the complexity of male friendships, where rituals of physicality—whether in sports, saunas, or male-dominated spaces—often serve as substitutes for deeper emotional exchanges. Do these rituals create safe spaces for male vulnerability, or do they reinforce the suppression of true emotion?
A defining feature of van den Broek’s work is his deliberate focus on emotional fragility. By omitting traditional symbols of power, like guns or other objects of aggression, van den Broek shifts the viewer’s attention toward the inner emotional landscape of his subjects. Can men express their fragility in environments that typically celebrate toughness? This emphasis on pure emotional expressionoffers a new lens through which to view masculinity, challenging conventional stereotypes of male identity.
The influence of Boris Ryzhy deepens the narrative of masculine complexity. Ryzhy, who struggled to exist fully as both tough and sensitive, becomes a poignant symbol for the internal conflict van den Broek portrays in his subjects. Can men reconcile these two worlds without becoming emotionally disconnected? Van den Broek’s portraits echo this sense of disconnection, showing how men, even in moments of bonding, often remain emotionally distant.
Vacuum challenges viewers to reconsider how societal expectations of masculine toughness force men to suppress vulnerability, even when they seek connection. By focusing on the physical gesturesof friendship—whether in sports, communal baths, or other male-dominated spaces—van den Broek exposes the hidden emotional complexity within men’s relationships. How does male bonding, often seen as tough or aggressive, become a conduit for emotional release?
Ultimately, van den Broek asks us to rethink the notion that masculinity requires strength at the expense of vulnerability. Even in physically charged environments, men are seeking connection, using rituals of touch and bonding as ways to express emotions that are otherwise suppressed. Is traditional masculinity an emotional facade? Through these images, van den Broek reveals that the strength men display may, in fact, mask the vulnerability they long to express. Can male strength and fragility coexist?
By focusing on these moments of intimacy and physicality, Vacuum becomes an exploration of male vulnerability and the emotional complexities beneath the surface of male relationships. Van den Broek’s work challenges viewers to see masculinity not as a fixed identity, but as a space where vulnerabilityand strength are constantly in tension. His portraits offer a fresh perspective on male identity—one that is both powerful and profoundly fragile.
Komorebi, 2019 / 2023 (Ongoing)
In Komorebi, Aldo van den Broek explores the tension between sensuality and repression in Japanese culture, where desire is simultaneously celebrated and concealed. The title, Komorebi, refers to the filtered light passing through tree leaves, symbolizing the interplay between light and shadow—a central visual and conceptual theme in van den Broek’s work. How does intimacy flourish within cultural constraints, and how does this contrast with more open but regulated expressions of desire in the West?
Van den Broek’s Shunga-inspired paintings are created on self-made paper from his time in Japan. What begins as individual erotic scenes in the tradition of Shunga—a genre of Japanese erotic art—evolves through collage into expansive compositions that dissolve into abstract pink fields. As the figures multiply and blur, the explicit imagery fades, turning eroticism into a landscape of color and texture. This progression—from graphic to abstract—mirrors the ephemeral nature of desire, much like the fleeting bloom of Sakura blossoms. In Western cultures, where sexual imagery is more pervasive in mass media but remains taboo in fine art, how does van den Broek challenge the boundary between what is hidden and what is exposed?
Sakura, Japan’s enduring symbol of fertility and renewal, reappears throughout van den Broek’s work, painted on rice sacks, connecting Japan’s agrarian past with its cultural emphasis on transience. In contrast, Western symbols of fertility often represent more permanence, such as the eternal spring of mythological depictions. These cultural views on the cycles of life and beauty are central to van den Broek’s exploration of impermanence and renewal.
Van den Broek’s architectural sculptures, crafted from waste materials gathered from Japanese building sites, play with light and shadow, evoking how traditional Japanese architecture invites natural light into spaces. As the light shifts throughout the day, these sculptures transform, casting evolving shadows that reflect the tension between public restraint and private expression in Japanese society. In contrast, Western architecture often emphasizes transparency and openness—how do light and shadow influence the boundaries between public and private space?
Rendered in pastel tones, inspired by the colors of workwear seen on construction sites, the sculptures invite a tactile engagement with light and form. As viewers move through the space, their interaction with light and material transforms their experience, creating an active dialogue between the art and its surroundings. The subtle shifts in light create an atmosphere of delicate intimacy, where perception becomes central to meaning. These living shadows mirror the unseen forces that shape cultural and personal identity. Depending on the time of day or the viewer’s position, the works take on new meaning, offering an ever-changing encounter with space.
Van den Broek’s use of repurposed materials reflects the passage of time, echoing the decay and transformation of physical structures—just as desire itself evolves or erodes over time. This idea of entropy underpins his exploration of how both desire and architecture are subject to the forces of erosion and renewal.
Through his reinterpretation of Shunga, van den Broek transforms traditional Japanese erotic art into a modern critique of censorship and expression. By abstracting explicit scenes into delicate, fleeting landscapes, he engages with Japan’s artistic legacy while questioning the boundaries between what is expressed and what is concealed. How do Eastern and Western attitudes toward eroticism and artistic freedom intersect, and where do they diverge?
The contrast between Shunga, Sakura, and architecture allows van den Broek to explore how personal freedom and social norms interact. His work transforms domestic and public spaces into arenas where sensuality and artistic freedom coexist, inviting viewers to reflect on how these forces manifest across cultures. How do different cultures negotiate the balance between desire and repression, and how does this shape personal expression?
As viewers interact with van den Broek’s work, the shifting interplay of light, shadow, and spacecreates an evolving experience. The ephemeral beauty of these moments reflects the impermanenceof life’s most fragile and transformative experiences, prompting contemplation of what remains when desire fades. Van den Broek’s work asks: How do we navigate the boundaries between restraint and freedom, and what lingers after desire dissolves?
Architecture, color, shunga and sakura research, Japan.
Palimpsest Monogorod, 2010 / 2023 (Ongoing)
In Palimpsest Monogorod, Aldo van den Broek examines the decaying brutalist architecture of Soviet-era monogorods—single-industry towns designed to symbolize collective strength. What began in 2010 with van den Broek’s move to East Berlin, where he became captivated by the city’s plattenbau suburbs, has grown into a broader exploration of post-Soviet urban landscapes. Unlike the decaying and unsafe suburbs of cities like Paris, New York, and Brussels, East Berlin’s Soviet-era blocks were surprisingly well-maintained, providing a stark contrast between order and decay. How does architecture serve as both a means of control and a reflection of collective life?
This contrast—between the monumentality of Soviet architecture and the vulnerability it now represents—became the foundation of van den Broek’s investigation. As he traveled to Belgrade, Tbilisi, Chişinǎu, and Siberia, he questioned how architecture once designed to project strength now reveals its own fragility. Can architecture designed to symbolize power ultimately reflect its failure? This tension is not unique to post-Soviet environments; Western modernist architecture suffers from the same utopian ambitions, where bold visions of the future are now crumbling under the weight of time.
Van den Broek’s sculptures are constructed from materials gathered at former Soviet sites—stone tiles, wood, and construction debris—with each element bearing the physical marks of its origin. He works from memory, reconstructing these architectural forms in a way that evokes both their monumentality and their gradual decay. Rendered in muted greytone palettes, these sculptures embody the essence of brutalist architecture, with textured surfaces revealing the vulnerabilities beneath. How do we reconcile the imposing power of brutalist architecture with the fragility of the materials it now embodies? This tension is mirrored in Western brutalist landmarks, where once-bold designs now reflect a similar failure of vision.
In contrast, van den Broek’s paintings shift the focus to the interior spaces of these monogorods—tunnels, halls, and rooms still inhabited despite the surrounding decay. He layers torn propaganda posters into the compositions, referencing the ideological control embedded within Soviet architecture. What role does propaganda play in shaping not just physical spaces, but also the psychological landscape of a society? In Western cities, where advertising and corporate messaging dominate, a subtler form of ideological control is exerted. The ghostly figures in van den Broek’s work, dwarfed by the scale of the architecture, suggest the persistence of life amidst monumental decline, offering glimpses into the human stories that endure within these spaces.
Van den Broek’s portraits of the residents living in these decaying monogorods further humanize the structures. These black-and-white portraits, first sketched during his time among the residents, reflect their resilience and adaptation to life within the crumbling architecture. What do these portraits reveal about the enduring spirit of individuals living within monumental systems of decay? This tension between collective ideology and individual survival mirrors the experiences of those on the margins in Western cities, where urban renewal often displaces rather than empowers.
The transformation of these buildings following the collapse of the Soviet Union is a central theme in van den Broek’s work. In places like Tbilisi and Chişinǎu, residents have adapted these once-uniform plattenbau blocks using materials ranging from marble to scrap wood, creating a patchwork of personal interventions. These modifications, including precariously expanded balconies known as “kamikaze loggias,” reflect the collapse of collective ideologies into acts of personal survival and creativity. How do these makeshift adaptations represent the transition from collective ideals to individual survival? In Western cities, similar adaptations occur in low-income neighborhoods, where makeshift renovations reflect a different kind of survival under capitalist pressures.
Despite the decay, people continue to inhabit these buildings, adapting to precarious conditions. Van den Broek captures this tension between resilience and fragility, reflecting how architecture once designed to project power has become a site of personal survival and improvised adaptation. His use of materials sourced directly from these locations reinforces the connection between the physical structures and the lives within them, grounding his work in the material realities of these monogorods. Can resilience and fragility coexist within decaying systems? This tension is equally present in Western cities, where the failure of modernist architectural ideals mirrors the breakdown of social and economic structures.
Van den Broek’s immersive process is deeply informed by the lives and stories of the people who inhabit these spaces. His sculptures, paintings, and portraits invite viewers to move through the architectural scale of his work, experiencing both the monumental and the intimate human presencewithin. As light shifts across the textured surfaces, new details emerge, revealing the fragility beneath the imposing façades. What happens when monumental architecture is re-experienced as fragile and impermanent?
Grounded in the materiality of memory, van den Broek’s work transforms the remnants of Soviet architecture into metaphors for resilience and the passage of time. His practice questions how monumental ideologies often conceal the vulnerabilities beneath. How do these remnants reflect the fragility of the ideologies they once represented? The parallels between Soviet and Western architectural decline invite the viewer to consider how systems of power—whether political or economic—inevitably give way to decay and human adaptation. As Palimpsest Monogorod continues to evolve, van den Broek offers a profound meditation on the fragility of human systems and the lasting impact of material culture.
Former Sovjet architecture and propaganda research. East Berlin, Germany / Belgrade, Serbia / Tbilisi, Georgia / Chişinǎu, Moldova / Many cities in Siberia.
Kiss and ride / In every dreamhome a heartache, 2018 / 2023
Traveling and the restlessness that comes with it. Exploring love, death and the existential.
Beautiful distress, 2015
In Beautiful Distress, Aldo van den Broek confronts the fragile intersection of mental health and institutional control. Created during a four-month residency at Kings County Hospital in New York, the series explores how individuals navigate the precarious balance between resilience and vulnerability. Granted rare access to the hospital’s most sensitive areas—including the children’s ward and a prison—van den Broek presents an intimate, unflinching portrayal of lives in emotional transition. Can art reveal the human fragility hidden behind institutional walls?
A defining moment occurred when van den Broek met a four-year-old child with severe emotional challenges—the same age as his own son. This encounter forced him to confront mental illness through the deeply personal lens of fatherhood, reshaping his work. How do we process the suffering of others when it mirrors our own vulnerabilities?
At the same time, van den Broek was constrained by the hospital’s bureaucratic controls. The institutional rigidity, with its constant demand for permission, stifled the spontaneity that drives his practice. In response, he began recording a video diary, capturing his reflections in real time, offering a raw counterbalance to the system’s restrictions. How do systems of control, intended to support, paradoxically limit both the freedom to create and the emotional freedom of those they care for?
To maintain his creative flow, van den Broek turned to cigarette packages as spontaneous canvases for experimentation. For a self-taught artist, these small, disposable objects became essential to his practice, balancing technical exploration with the emotional weight of the hospital’s environment. How can the mundane and discarded become vessels for artistic expression and reflections on mental fragility?
His use of discarded materials—from medication packages to pizza boxes—turns the ordinary into potent metaphors for the hospital’s routines of survival. These objects, typically overlooked, are transformed into expressions of both vulnerability and resilience. How can art reframe everyday materials as symbols of endurance and human fragility?
Van den Broek’s portraits leave the identities of his subjects ambiguous: Are they patients, doctors, or passersby? By blurring these roles, van den Broek highlights the shared experience of being wounded, both mentally and emotionally. How do we see the invisible scars people carry when institutional roles obscure them?
This ambiguity invites viewers to confront their own relationships with mental health. Whether through personal experience or observation, mental health touches everyone, and van den Broek’s work challenges the stigma that surrounds it. Can art provoke a more open dialogue about mental illness and vulnerability?
A recurring motif in the series is the tulip, a nod to Van Gogh’s sunflowers, representing the cyclical nature of mental health—from bloom to decay. For van den Broek, the tulips also reflect heimwee(homesickness), symbolizing his longing for Amsterdam, a city he had not lived in for years. These tulips speak to both the fragility of mental states and his personal yearning for stability. How do personal symbols like tulips resonate with the broader experience of mental fragility and displacement?
The video diary, created in response to the hospital’s restrictions, offers an unfiltered glimpse into van den Broek’s emotional response to his surroundings. It captures his personal reflections on the stories he encountered, providing an intimate layer to the project. How does documenting personal experience help both the artist and the viewer process complex emotional landscapes?
Beautiful Distress critiques the very systems that shape mental health care, raising critical questions about how society frames well-being and how individuals must navigate resilience within institutional constraints. Can art challenge the ways institutions define mental health and reframe our understanding of care?
By leaving the roles of his figures undefined—whether they are patients, doctors, or bystanders—van den Broek underscores the universality of vulnerability and resilience. Can we move beyond institutional labels to recognize the shared fragility that unites us? His work encourages viewers to reflect on their own roles within these structures, calling for a more empathetic engagement with mental health.
Through Beautiful Distress, van den Broek invites viewers to contemplate the fragility of the human condition. His use of discarded materials, coupled with his intimate portraits and spontaneous reflections, encourages deeper thinking about resilience, community, and the potential for healing. How can art, in its rawest form, deepen our understanding of mental illness and the shared human experience?
Kings County Mental Behaviour Center, Artist in Residence, New York, New york.
