Realization: Lynda Deutz 2018

On May 5, when we celebrate Liberation Day in the Netherlands, hollow, plastic carp (koi) are tied on poles like streamers (bori) on the roofs of houses in Japan to show the neighbors how many sons there are in the family. The Japanese hope their sons grow up to be fearless men. Sometimes there is a carp from the father, but never from his wife. She remains invisible. She has no prestige. These koinobori flags go back to a samurai tradition to show the strength of their clan.

With her windsock, Lynda Deutz humorously comments on this masculine tradition. A first look is reminiscent of a headless koi with its scaly skin. But if you look closely, you can see that at the other end of the metallic fish body, two Madonna-like female breasts point straight at the earth. They are the symbol of a proud woman who, however invisible and mythical, orientates our eyes by defying the wind. In this way, at odds with the masculine tradition, a mythical image from our own culture is evoked: the mermaid. Though Deutz’s headless creature lacks the classic grace of the mermaid, it is animated time and again by the wind that flows through her.

In the middle of the dunes of the Prince Albert Park, one of the most enchanting places on the Belgian coast that you can still find, a place where you can look around in a circle without your gaze bouncing off the high-rise holiday homes, the headless fish woman shows us the way: straight through the sea.