Meet W, Wed. 3:15pm, in front of the Foam
- Sorry, 10 minutes late! Read More
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Everything is changing
Typically a bird who watched too much tv. Read More
Nothing to worry about
A few days ago, I helped my friend to take care of her son.
There was no work to be done. Read More
Shit art
Last week I received an e-mail from my father.
The subject: shit-art.
The message: During my daily walk I noticed this extraordinary mark on
the pavement. It’s from a heron that took a shit and tried to make a
self-portrait. Regards, your father.
The picture: (see attached picture). Read More
Cursiefjes
I visited Edie Peters from photoq a couple of years ago, Hans Aarsman suggested I should write columns for photoq on a regular base.
The only thing I had to do, was to write three columns in advance to
have some kind of continuity.
At the same time I was finishing my masters at St Joost in Breda;
The only thing I had to do, was to write three columns in advance to
have some kind of continuity.
At the same time I was finishing my masters at St Joost in Breda;
too busy, too much cold feet, too little confidence about my work, so it
never happened.
Last week I was asked again.
Still cold feet.
I know I can write, and I have got something to say.
So what the heck, why not.
By the way I’m not going to write columns but cursiefjes.
Columns are supposed to be sharp and critical, cursiefjes are
friendly,gentle and at times a bit witty.
Last sentences are most of the time horrible so there is none this time.
never happened.
Last week I was asked again.
Still cold feet.
I know I can write, and I have got something to say.
So what the heck, why not.
By the way I’m not going to write columns but cursiefjes.
Columns are supposed to be sharp and critical, cursiefjes are
friendly,gentle and at times a bit witty.
Last sentences are most of the time horrible so there is none this time.
Photo: Autoportrait Don Sars (a couple of years ago)
Doing nothing
Entering the carriage feels like interrupting a congregation. A middle-aged man is loudly talking in front of his laptop, an elderly woman next to him is chatting on the phone. Read More
“Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them.” (by David Hume)
Last week I visited Charleroi for a couple of days, together with 7 photographers/artists of Föhn kunstenaarscollectief.
If I have to be honest Charleroi isn’t a very pleasant city; it was chosen as butt ugliest city in the whole of Europe.
For a reason, it’s “gris” and dirty, poor and shabby.
Fortunately there is a bright side of Charleroi as well, its inhabitants the Carolos.
They are friendly, hospitable and even have enough patience trying to make conversation with me, in French (which is difficult).
I was walking from the city-centre to the outskirts of Charleroi, just going North without a map but with a compass, when I met the man in the picture above.
I have to admit that I have a predilection for old men with big bristly eyebrows, deep wrinkles and a friendly glance in their eyes. He was standing in front of his house in a little paved court, just waiting for people to pass by and have some kind of social interaction. We talked for a bit and I took some pictures. When I showed him the pictures all he said was “bien” in a heavy Charleroi French dialect, combined with a big smile.
Back home I browsed trough the pictures I took and the little movies I made.
I was happy to see the image of the old man again and at the same time I worried. What if I wanted to share the picture with the rest of the world? What if people would laugh because of his hair coming out of every pore? What if they wouldn’t see what I saw. What if the eye of the beholder is polluted with pictures made by, or in the manner of Martin Parr?
“What if?” should become “What if.” or maybe even “Whatever”.
There; done.