Her work represents the essence of what she wants to show
us. My words may become part of this representation. Inside I
find rougher versions. The bodies are mostly dilapidated and
they show their round forms as a skeleton, even if they are fat
and saggy. The style of painting is scant and unpretentious.
Knowledge of the anatomy is not necessary and, in fact,
would be superfluous. The colours remain faded, the eyes are
always bleached out. I see combinations of blue/white, yellow/
black/white, blue/black/white, pink/ black/white and pink/
blue/black/white. The richness of a full colour spectrum is
intentionally avoided.

These female bodies are not repulsive, but they certainly do not
attract me. The knuckles stand out, they are white, not because
of hunger or some physical problem, they stand out because
they contrast with the body. They seem to be a counterpoint for
the lewdness of the flesh.

In Osborn’s archive, preceding these paintings is a series of
landscapes. In a way, these are bodies too. Heavenly bodies,
you could say, that show themselves in both pleasant and
unpleasant ways. Osborn’s flowers don’t stand firmly, but seem
to be slightly drooping. When I mention this to her, she tells
me it’s because she turned these canvases upside down. Osborn
becomes Georg Baselitz, images as a clear result of previous
weather conditions. Silence after the storm. The sea has been
tumultuous too, but now the breakers arrive calmly at the shore
again. Velvet shows itself. The day is over. What comes is the
quietness of the early evening.

Everybody is nobody. Everything is nothing. Upside is down.
Good is bad. Peace is war. Is that so?

It is true as long as the world is ruled by the following
dominating principle — a notion an old friend once tried to
explain to me. Only later did I learn that he was right. “Scholte,
you don’t understand! when they say ‘all the others’, that
doesn’t mean everybody.” and so it is.