“Beauty is something that does not exist.
It's the name I give to things
in exchange for the pleasure they provide me.”
Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935)
Beauty - to use an almost disused and often condemned term here - lies in Alida Everts' (°Hoogeveen, 1951) works to a large extent in their fragility, in the potential, in the possibility of, in what could still emerge upon closer inspection. That fragility is precisely the charm of her work. By the way, frailty is not here as an antonym for strength. Just as a flower bud that has not yet blossomed announces the full power of the fully grown rose and already contains it, the vibrant juices of life are, so to speak, present in Everts' works.
Without wanting to go too far, we can speak of a vitalistic art in which life is celebrated, but at the same time the transience is also discussed. Alida Everts translates this eternal cycle of life into a fascinating visual language. One would be inclined to look for reference points in this oeuvre, in order to have something to hold on to in naming this art. Because that's just how people - and certainly the art critic - are: looking and examining, comparing and analyzing, cataloging and finally placing them in the supposed correct box... In vain, we are really looking at a very original oeuvre here. For the time being, we will have to go through life without that comfortable box.