Charline Tyberghein: many drops make a puddle
3 December — 1 May 2021

Press ReleaseX
Installation view - Photography by Corey Bartle-Sanderson
Double bluff
Acrylic on wood
150 x 185 cm, 2020
heart full of honey
Acrylic on wood
150 x 122 cm, 2020
Rise and grind
Acrylic on wood
150 x 122 cm, 2020
Small sips
Acrylic on wood
150 x 122 cm, 2020
Faint chuckle
Acrylic on wood
122 x 100 cm, 2020
Double bluff
Double bluff (detail)
Double bluff (detail)
heart full of honey
Acrylic on wood
150 x 122 cm, 2020
heart full of honey (detail)
heart full of honey (detail)
Rise and grind
Acrylic on wood
150 x 122 cm, 2020
Rise and grind (detail)
Rise and grind (detail)
Small sips
Acrylic on wood
150 x 122 cm, 2020
Small sips (detail)
Small sips (detail)
Faint chuckle
Acrylic on wood
122 x 100 cm, 2020
Faint chuckle (detail)
Faint chuckle (detail)
Castor is pleased to present ‘many drops make a puddle’, Antwerp-based painter Charline Tyberghein’s debut London exhibition.

A baseball, pair of pants, a pretzel, the internet explorer logo are just some of the symbols used within Tyberghein’s paintings. In this new series of works, these small silhouetted icons sit in a border framing the floating central motif, perhaps confronting us with some form of code to unlock the piece.
speech bubble + bone = jug
Black and cream checks suggest the table cloth of a local café. A light brown interwoven pattern reminiscent of the chair I recently picked up from a second-hand furniture shop. The curved- topped custard and stained mahogany shapes could belong to the interior of a smoke-filled members club of yesteryear.
rain drop + dice = jug
The first thing you’re confronted with when looking at Tyberghein’s paintings is the surface: whether looking at them from a matter of inches away or via the glow of a back-lit display, it’s hard to believe there isn’t some form of relief coming away from the wooden panel. Executed using a trompe l’œil technique, the forms appear from their patterned surface as if the viewer is standing looking down on a vacuum form machine, where the fabric is sucked tight to reveal a loose essence of the object beneath.
fish + leaf = jug
The relationship between analogue and digital is particularly interesting within these paintings. The symbols hint at elements of our everyday that we take for granted, the patterns suggesting soft furnishings and surfaces around the home. In contrast, the painted drop shadows and the way the glitchy background distorts feel like they’ve been lifted from a photoshop layout. It wouldn’t be hard to believe we were in fact within a computer-generated facsimile of our reality.
tips of thumb and index fingers touch to say everything is okay + telephone = jug
The longer we study the work, the more we might wonder whether Tyberghein is inviting us to unravel a code at all, or perhaps simply providing a graphical key of the comfort in the familiar.

Is that a jug or a cyberpunk robotic lion? Is that other one crying? Pareidolia-fuelled sweats ensue. Is the everyday really so menacing?