Dré Devens - 90-F-IV | Geometrisch-abstracte tekening - ingelijst - Sold

Minimalism at its best , that is what visual artist Dré Devens (1946) made with his pencil drawings.
This unique, geometric-abstract drawing of his hand was made in 1990 and is entitled '90-F-IV'. You almost have to face the work to spot the few yellow-green lines. Between the pair of colored lines, the artist has punched a "white" (almost invisible) vertical line into the paper.
The work is signed in pencil in the lower left corner and made on sturdy paper. It is framed in a white aluminum BARTH interchangeable frame with anti-reflective glass. Can be mounted on the wall!
On the back of the leaf the artist has signed his work again and provided it with a title. See last photo.
Note: Photos were taken with different lighting to improve contrast and visibility of lines in photo...
Photos are part of the description.

About the artist:
André Jules Marie Johan (Dré) Devens was born in Heerlen in 1946. He has developed into a goldsmith, sculptor and monumental artist. He lived and worked in Maastricht for almost his entire career.
From 1962 to 1968 he attended art training for goldsmiths at the City Academy of Applied Arts in Maastricht. He then studied for a few years in Amersfoort at the Academy of Visual Arts, followed by a year at TNO (Plastic Workshop) in Delft. In 1979 and 1984-1985 Devens was a student at the Jan van Eyck Academy in Maastricht.
Dré Devens has an impressive oeuvre to his name, his works have been exhibited in countless places in the Netherlands and abroad, both solo and in groups. For more information, see web link below.

Tuur Devens, Dré's younger brother, about the work of his eldest brother:
"A dash is a dash. Or is it? Should I give it a meaning or not? Does it represent something? A division between two planes?, a horizon?, a road? Does the dash refer to something, or is it just a dash without further ado? Does it only refer to itself? Does my brother play with that fact? Is it only the form that counts? And don't you have to look for content behind it?
For me, a straight line in Dré's work remains a straight line. His works are compositions of lines, in colors, in different sizes and thicknesses. Point.

A greenish stripe, with no starting point, no ending point. She touches the list at the bottom of the sheet, suggesting that she can go on indefinitely. A stripe, hanging in an empty space, floating on a surface. The yellowish stripe runs above the green stripe. It starts somewhere on the left and goes up diagonally. This line also has no real beginning, no real end.

Lines often indicate a boundary, demarcate a plane. That is not the case with Dre. His lines radiate an imperfection, sometimes almost invisible, sometimes clear.
I sometimes associate Dré's compositions in 2D with the 'merzen' of Kurt Schwitters from a century ago. Schwitters made collages from cut-out words (such as 'merz' from 'Commerzbank'), from texts, materials, in order to liberate art, in the line of the Dadaists, from traditional materials and techniques. Dré does not cut out letters or words, but stripes, as it were, and makes collages with them, a series that will never end. He arranges and arranges, again and again, to free stripes, traditional boundary-setters, from their predisposition and to give them space, an infinite space. Dré's crayon traits are repeated in countless variations with minor differences, such as the repetitive, minimal music compositions of Steve Reich, Philip Glass, Simeon ten Holt, and all the others. (...) You absorb a work of art by Dré, in delay, in stillness. A calm emanates from Dré's works. I experience the stillness as a pleasure. Again and again.

Dré uses a very special light green. He colors his lines with it, but also gives spatial works or ready-mades that color. (...) I argue, analogous to Yves Klein's special blue, the Kleinblauw, for the introduction of the term Devensgroen.

A stripe, a line, a color, however fine on a surface, on an object, in a space, brings about a metamorphosis. In his series, Dré moves very minimally and again and again with lines. He does not brusque the surface or the space, he gives the often thin stripe a soft tap, makes an almost invisible shift. And yet you get a change, not only in the space, on the plane, on the object, but also and above all in the perception. You watch for a moment, then more accurately, more precisely, differently, you ask yourself questions about the form. Does this line transcend the reality of the plane? Does it perfect reality? Does that little addition of a dash of paint in a basement enhance the space? I repeat myself: Dré's stripes do not close off a space, but open a space, expand the space."

Source & more info: www.dredevens.nl