Floating Worlds by Henri Haake — Or The Nowhereland of Becoming 

 

 

Henri Haake’s “Floating Worlds” invites us into a space where reality cinematographically becomes fluid, continuously reshaped by the soft edges of memory and the hazy frontier between the tangible and intangible. In today’s so urgent ‘digital ecosystem,’ where we’re zapping through life or an imitation of it, the sense of the present and memory becomes anxiously blurred between what is, what was, and what will become of us. So, at the heart of Henri’s work lies a truly an intimate zoom in, in a true protopian vision—"Floating Worlds" offers a philosophical exploration, not of a perfected utopian future or a dystopian past, but of a present in constant motion. It inhabits a world always in a state of becoming, where every moment is both fleeting and enduring, rooted in the sensory yet transcending the material, as he pays homage to his personal and intimate experiences and reflections. 

 

Haake’s canvases, with their textured, grainy layers and subdued tones, echo this sense of desirable, almost palpable, lingering memories. His use of water, steam, and mist is not merely aesthetic but conceptual—a metaphor for memory and perception. Particularly in the center panel of the triptych “The Fountain of Youth,” and in works like “Night Swim” and “Whirlpool,” water becomes a recurring metaphor for this fluid state of being. It is both a connector and a separator; it reflects and distorts. In Haake’s work, water is a medium that reveals and conceals—a lens through which we see the world, yet a veil that hides it. This duality is central to the “Floating Worlds” concept, where reality is never fully formed but always in flux, much like liquid reflections that distort our sense of space and time. 

 

There is a dream-like quality here—a state of suspended reality that allows a deeper engagement with the self and the moment. In Haake's vision, the dream-state is not merely an escape from reality but a return to a more primal, unfiltered way of seeing the world. It calls us to remember that our perceptions are inherently subjective, shaped by the interplay of light and shadow, memory and imagination. What if we allowed ourselves to linger a little longer in these in-between moments? What if we embraced the ambiguity, the not-knowing, as a way to reconnect with the deeper, more intuitive aspects of ourselves? 

 

This dynamic is brought to life in Haake's triptych —a meditation on the cycles of existence and perception, where the mundane and the mythical coexist in delicate balance. The triptych unfolds like a visual poem, where each panel represents a distinct yet interconnected narrative: 

• The left panel speaks of intimacy and embrace, where bodies meld into one another, suffused in warm, almost visceral hues. 

• The center panel, “Fountain of Youth,” is the triptych’s focal point, capturing a scene of vibrant life and 

playfulness. Haake uses the theme of eternal youth as a metaphor for life and memory's fluidity. The figures, emerging and submerging in cascading water, occupy a liminal space—between joy and shadow—reflecting on the fleeting nature of time and our desire to hold onto the ungraspable, perhaps suggesting that even joy carries the shadow of impermanence. 

• The right panel introduces a different atmosphere, evoking the transcendental and enigmatic. With references to Bosch’s “ascending of the souls,” it meditates on visibility and invisibility, on what is known and what lies beyond perception. This panel shifts from the physical to the metaphysical, where the imagery becomes more abstract, representing a border between worlds—between the interior and the exterior, the corporeal and the spiritual. The airplane interior, clouds, and windows play with notions of confinement versus expanse, grounding versus flight. It raises questions of mortality and the afterlife, prompting us to consider what lies beyond the material world. Are we witnessing an ascent, a departure, or a return?

Not having an answer only reinforces the liminality of the dream-state—a space where the conscious and unconscious meet, where memories are not fixed but malleable, shifting with each recollection. Take “Space Odyssey,” for example. Here, Haake plays with cosmic and childhood motifs to reflect on contemporary obsessions with exploration and escape, conveying escapism as something perpetual. The painting is not just a nod to sci-fi aesthetics; it questions our desires to transcend earthly limits and reconnects us to child-like wonder. Are we still playing, imagining, inventing? Can we recognise ourselves as products of that enduring sense of wonder? 

 

 

I truly don’t see these paintings as seeking to document; they aim to evoke. As you walk over Nave’s glorious tile flooring, they create a dialogue between the seen and the unseen, the remembered and the forgotten, suggesting that our understanding of reality is shaped as much by absence as by presence. This perspective aligns with Haake’s exploration of the soft edges of memory—how moments linger, overlap, and dissolve, creating a continuum that defies linear time. In this continuum, the notion of a "floating world" becomes an apt metaphor. Borrowing from the Japanese concept of Ukiyo, or "pictures of the floating world," Haake reimagines this idea in a contemporary context, where memories are both elusive and omnipresent, where what is solid becomes ephemeral, and what is forgotten resurfaces with renewed clarity. Consider “Achilles Heel”—that ephemeral yet eternal glimpse of desire that might resurface in dreams as a singular, moving instant turned object of desire. This fluidity, this shift between visibility and invisibility, is what gives his work its haunting, almost spectral quality. 

 

Within this framework, Haake’s art becomes a meditation on perception and existence. The notion of Protopia in his work suggests that there is no singular truth—no utopia or dystopia—but rather a perpetual unfolding of truths, a constant becoming that is neither fully realised nor entirely incomplete. It is in this in-between space that Haake’s “Floating Worlds” reside, inviting the viewer to dwell in uncertainty, to find beauty and meaning not in what is fixed but in what is fluid. A lingering present, a perpetual “no-where-land,” offers gentle resistance to the frenetic pace of contemporary life. Haake's art invites us to slow down and reconsider the value of the transient, the fleeting, and the ungraspable. For all time, always. 

 

 

Ana Sofia Castanho

Lisbon, September 2024