Designblog

I chose a word (with the limitation of this website’s tagwords) and then I found an image which I connected to the word. By repeating this I created myself a collection of images. I have organized the words in categories by the logic of their images. The word categories you are seeing below are like poems and also like spells, I think.

1. hyper hybrid, fragile, personalized, unseen

2. all-round, narration, hole

3. perfection, endless

4. disturbing, comment, white, poem

5. symmetry, craft

6. still, choreography, conspiracy

7. body, invisible, real

8. concept, conversation

9. metaphor, control, ghosts

Romantic                                                                                                                  Young

                                 Super cool             Naive                               Dominant

        Glacial

          Sneaky

                 Punk                                        Plastic

           Hidden                                        Oversized                                                  Old

         Removable                                                            Fragile

        Bloody                                                                    Revolutionary                                   Immaterial                                                    Pink                                                                      Homeless

     Small

                    Heavy                                         White                              Monumental                                                     Attracted                                                                Blank

              Tiny                                                                                       On-time               Slow

                  Eatable

                     Dreamlike

    Old-fashioned                                                                     Evil                      Digital                          Tijdloos                                                 Shiny

     Superficial

          Material                                                                       Playful                                             Basic                                                      Sorry                                                     Smoking

                                 Temporary

    Joyfull                                                                    Mad                                          Simple

            Grey

                      Porcelain                          Content                                    Extraordinary                                                          Insecure

      Sublime

         Ice-cold                                                    Dew

                    Unseen                             Stuck

                                                                Adaptable

   Cross                                                    Fluffy       Childish                             Primal                        Tacky

        Blue                                                                     Cliché

 Learning and being confronted to new languages this year, I noted funny and intersting bridges inbetween languages. These are homonyms or linguistic loans interpreted differently ; nice coincidences, attesting of the different ways that each language deals with its reality. Here I propose to relate English, French, Dutch and even German, according to different homonyms that I was confronted by this year.

Understand what you want
or what you can.

Hier
[bijwoord]

Op deze plaats: van hier tot ginder (of: gunder), van hier

tot Tokio heel ver, heel groot; hier en daar op sommige plaatsen

Hier
[adverb]

1. a.Räumlich; hinweisend; an dieser Stelle, an diesem Ort, an

dem der Sprecher sich befindet oder auf den er hindeutet
b.Bezieht sich auf jemanden, etwas in unmittelbarer Nähe, auf

den bzw. worauf der Sprecher ausdrücklich hinweist
c.zur Verdeutlichung einer Geste, mit der der Sprecher dem

Angeredeten etwas überreicht, erteilt
d.in dem vorliegenden Zusammenhang, Fall, Punkt
2. zu diesem [genannten] Zeitpunkt, in diesem Augenblick

Hier
[adverbe]

(latin heri)
1. Le jour qui précède immédiatement celui où l’on est

(dans  le discours direct).
2. Il y a peu de temps, à une date encore récente ou proche.

Fast
[adverb]

kaum noch von einem bestimmten Zustand, Ergebnis, Ausmaß, einer Anzahl, Größe o.?Ä. entfernt; einer

genannten Angabe ziemlich nahekommend; beinahe, nahezu

Fast
[adjective]

1. Moving or capable of moving at high speed.
2. Predicative or as complement (of a clock or watch) Showing a time ahead of the correct time.
3. Firmly fixed or attached.
4. Photography(of a film) Needing only a short exposure.
5. (of a dye) Not fading in light or when washed.
6. Engaging in or involving activities characterized by excitement, extranvagance, and risk-taking.
7. West Indian (of a person) Prone to act in an unacceptably familiar way.

[verb]
Abstain from all or some kinds of food or drink, especially as a religious observance.

[noun]
An act or period of fasting.

Faste
[nom masculin]

(bas latin fastus, luxe)
Étalage de magnificence, déploiement de tous les signes extérieurs

du luxe : Le faste d’une cérémonie.

Gift
[Substantiv, Neutrum]

In der Natur vorkommender oder künstlich hergestellter Stoff, der nach Eindringen in den Organismus eines Lebewesens eine schädliche, zerstörende, tödliche Wirkung hat (wenn er in einer bestimmten Menge, unter bestimmten Bedingungen einwirkt).

Gift
[noun]

1. A thing given willingly to someone without payment; a present.
2. A natural ability or talent. 2A natural ability or talent.

[verb]
Give (something) as a gift, especially formally or as a donation or bequest.

[noun]
Medicine Gamete intrafallopian transfer, a technique for assisting conception by introducing mixed ova and sperm into a fallopian tube.

Ziel, das

[Substantiv, Neutrum]

1. (a) Punkt, Ort, bis zu dem jemand kommen will, den jemand erreichen will

(b) Sport Ende einer Wettkampfstrecke (das durch eine Linie, durch Pfosten o.?Ä. markiert ist)

2. etwas, was beim Schießen, Werfen o.?Ä. anvisiert wird, getroffen werden soll

3. etwas, worauf jemandes Handeln, Tun o.?Ä. ganz bewusst gerichtet ist, was jemand als Sinn und Zweck, angestrebtes Ergebnis seines Handelns, Tuns zu erreichen sucht

4. Kaufmannssprache veraltend Zahlungsfrist, -ziel; Termin

Ziel

[meervoud: zielen]

1. (de; v(m)) het niet-stoffelijk gedeelte vanwaaruit de mens leeft; (religie) onsterfelijk deel van de mens: ter ziele gaan

(a) sterven;

(b) ophouden te bestaan; God hebbe zijn ziel gezegd van een overledene; met zijn ziel onder zijn arm lopen doelloos en zich vervelend; zich methart en ziel aan iets wijden met zijn hele wezen; iem. op zijn ziel trappen hem krenken, beledigen

2. (de; m,v) persoon, mens: hoe meer zielen hoe meer vreugd hoe meer gasten hoe prettiger; zieltjes winnen bekeerlingen maken

Soul

[noun]

1. The spiritual or immaterial part of a human being or animal, regarded as immortal.

2.  Emotional or intellectual energy or intensity, especially as revealed in a work of art or an artistic performance.

3. The essence or embodiment of a specified quality.

Soûl, Soûle

[adjectif]

1. (familier) Qui est ivre, qui a bu avec excès d’une boisson alcoolisée .

2. Qui est pleinement rassasié de quelque chose, qui en a eu au-delà de ses désirs.

3. Qui est grisé, enivré, étourdi.

* False-Friends

Writing for the sake of writing

Make a blog post about nothing or whatever

Here are random connections to random posts on a blog that everyone is obligated to update. Why? Just because. Do you ever read anything because you have to? When does it happen mostly?

School? Aren’t you studying what you like? Aren’t you supposed to study what you like?

Work? Yh you had to work somewhere. Those readings are probably boring but you need to eat and pay rent so here we go. Capitalism. Sigh.

Government mail. Can’t read those though, they’re all in Dutch. “We killed the tree now it’s your turn to struggle. Folded in half. Eight fold. Figure it out somehow. Or don’t. Whatever. Couldn’t care less. Careless.

I am sorry if you’re reading this because you have to. I wish you didn’t. But bear with me. We can power through this together. We will come out of this different. We will learn something.

I am not going to teach you though. You can only learn yourself. Ask yourself questions. Or don’t. Don’t ask questions if you don’t feel like it. Listen to your body. That pressure you feel on your chest? That fire you can’t put out, your back burning, pay attention to it. Relax. Use this moment to listen to yourself. It is hard, Everything could be hard. Sometimes its hard to leave your bed, I know that way too well. Sometimes working two shifts in a row is not as hard as making yourself some breakfast or picking up that paper from the floor, that has been there for a month.

Don’t be hard on yourself. Accept your weakness. You don’t have to love yourself. Its great if you do, but don’t be hard on yourself if you don’t. One day you will. You don’t have to love yourself in order for someone to love you. I love you. Just for you. For you fears and struggles. For your carefree attitude. Or absence of it. It’s ok to care. Its hard but you’re gonna be fine. You’re special. You’re unique. You’re so cute when you laugh. I don’t have anything funny to tell you right now, though. Kinda feel guilty for it, sorry. But I will learn to accept it. One day. One thing at a time. Or after ten thousand times. Lets change together. Its ok if you don’t want to. It’s ok if you did. Every thing is different. Every day is different. Every day you’re different and the same in a way.

All the bad and good is in you, you don’t have to look for it anywhere else. Just take a look inside. You also can take a look at someone else. Its fine to look up to people. You’re someone’s hero too. Somebody looks at you and realizes they could be better. Sometimes they don’t believe it because of how awesome you are. They should read this post too. But only if they want to. It is also ok if they have to. I hope they feel better after reading it. I hope it could make you feel more at ease. It’s ok If it couldn’t. Sometimes we can’t help but worry about things. This world is stressful enough. We just have to navigate through it. Do you know that just looking at you could make somebody’s day better? You look so radiant when you feel inspired! It’s contagious! Its ok if you feel shy for people looking at you. Don’t worry, they are in their own heads. It’s ok if you feel shy anyway. It’s ok if you don’t want people to look at you. I respect your desires. You’re a great person. But you don’t have to be great to be respected. You deserve love. You deserve peace.

It’s ok if you like when people look at you, you deserve to be the center of attention. You’re such a fun and outgoing person when you feel like it. Sometimes you don’t and I appreciate that. Everyone needs time for themselves. Some people probably don’t. But you do you! It’s important to recharge from time to time. For you it may mean all the time. Maybe you need to reach out for support. I hope you have your support system. It sucks if you don’t! Let’s try go through this together then. I am so glad we met like this. Through our eyes. Or ears. Maybe fingers. I hope you are having a good day. Or that it’s a little bit better now that we spent some time together. I hope you know your worth. It’s ok if you don’t yet. It could take some time to get there, especially living in the system that is thriving from you not knowing it. Remember it when you feel like you’re not enough. You’re more than enough, you have everything you need to be you. I am sorry if you don’t! Please, reach out for the support. You deserve every bit of it. Please, do. You are valid. You make this world so much better. I love you.

Didn’t I see this before?

Have you ever had this strange, but uncertain feeling that you have experienced something before? An overwhelming sense of familiarity? A moment you are not sure if something similar or the exact same thing already happened? Then you belong to the majority of people who have had a déjà vu. Scientists are still unsure how to explain this phenomenon. Some try to link it to memory functions, claiming that familiar events can trigger memories of forgotten information. Some say it’s a more like a “memory check” of our brain: a signal that there is a conflict between what we think we’ve experienced and what we actually did experience.

There are other interesting theories as well that try to explain a déjà vu:

Precognition: We have the power of foresight. A déjà vu is the evidence that we are actually able to predict the future.

Reincarnation: We have lived before. A déjà vu is the surfacing of a hidden memory, evidence of a previous existence.

Higher dimension: Our consciousness actually exists outside of our physical bodies in a higher dimension, and when a déjà vu occurs, it’s a brief moment when that separation becomes clear.

Parallel universes: There are other versions of ourselves, living in parallel universes. A déjà vu is a moment we share a memory with an alter ego of another universe.

Precognition: A déjà vu is the evidence that we are actually able to predict the future.

In a web app I created for iPads you can move along stories told by various images and collages of hands. Sometimes you end up at a point you think you have experienced before. But is it really the same, or does it just familiar? You might just have a déjà vu.

When browsing through the internet, we often experience this feeling of familiarity. Links and tags create a confusing net of intertwined information, often taking you back to a page you have been before. But because of the information overload we are exposed to, we are often not sure. Maybe you experienced it while surfing through the Design Blog, using the various tags. And you asked yourself, didn’t I see this before?

What effect does our mood have on what we read? If we read something, for example on DesignBlog, does our mood have something to do with it?

Your brain consists of two systems. Your system 1 is fast, automatic and requires little or no effort and you cannot control it. System 2 gives conscious attention to mental effort, is rational, takes care of your self-control and keeps track of the impulses of system 1 to suppress them if necessary. System 2 (almost) always has the last word.

Take a pencil and clamp it between your teeth, with the eraser to the right and the point to the left. Now put the pencil in your mouth with the point to the front and the eraser between your lips. You probably were not aware of anything when you did this, but with the pencil horizontally you got a smile on your face and with the pencil point to the front you had a little frown. In an investigation, students had to watch cartoons while they were having a pencil in their mouth, the students with the pencil horizontally (smile) found the cartoons to be funnier than those with the pencil point to the front (frown). The people with the pencil point to the front were shown photos of starving children, arguing people and victims of accidents, their reaction was way more emotional.

This shows that your mood definitely affects your ability and the way in which you process things. For example, research was conducted in which respondents were brought into a good mood or into a sad mood. The respondents who were brought into a good mood became more accurate and the respondents who were brought into a sad mood were unable to perform the intuitive task properly. Our mood affects the functioning of system 1. If we feel comfortable or sad, we lose contact with our intuition (system 1). According to Herbert Simon [x], you can see your intuition as a recognition. It’s like this: a situation gives a clue, this clue gives access to information in your memory and this information leads you to the answer. This makes clear that sadness affects your intuition and thus your knowledge.

So, it turns out that you become more accurate when you are happy while processing information. Well, I’m very forgetful and I’m wondering if I am more aware when I make myself extremely happy.

It will surprise you, but I can guarantee you that the list of words is always more than I would have written if I did not have laughed.

A day of observation ; visiting a museum.

To see, watch, perceive or notice

Visiting a museum always end for me daydreaming about other artists. Influenced by the atmospheres of the art and people visiting the museum. So I wrote down my observation and daydreams of an artwork in the exhibition of the Kunsthal te Rotterdam.

Cars, motorcycles, egg, hamburger, portraits and colorful vanitas. Walking into a hall full of pictures; was my first reaction of the exhibition of hyperrealism in the Kunsthal te Rotterdam. Coming closer to this images; amazed by the fact that these where paintings.
In front of a painting there was a man saying to his wife; ’Yes, you can really see that this is a painting, because the artist did not paint it perfectly.’ Pointing out all different kind of lines and spots which where not perfect according to him.
My observing of these paintings was also absolutely triggered. How is this possible? Is this a picture painted over? Is it really not a picture? Also searching for spots to confirm that it are paintings.

Rod Penner 

Passing all the work I noticed all the American subjects. Especially the landscapes of Rod Penner ; painter. Staring at his work I found it very intriguing how he translated the light so beautiful in these paintings. Every shade, light stripe and reflection he paid attention to. He is not only painting the landscape itself but also the atmosphere that is connected to the landscape. Not only the houses/signs are giving a clue to the American landscapes but also the atmosphere itself is very recognizable.

The beautiful light and atmospheres of Rod Penner reminded me of two photographers ; Gregory Crewdson and Tod Hido.

 Tod Hido

Tod Hido is photographing landscape/houses in America. He got a amazing series of photographs called ‘Homes at night. Tod is using long exposure and most of the time the only light source is the light from inside the house. He is also searching for very specific moments and houses that are making this series so great.

Gregory Crewdson

Gregory is photographing cinematic landscapes in small towns of America. He is making beautiful images where he is influencing the light and the scene. It is very interesting how he and his team are building up these scenes and you can see that in his documentary Gregory Crewdson : brief encounters.

Inspired by a day of Kunsthal te Rotterdam
Hyperrealism ; 50 years of painting.
Exhibition from the 25th of January till the 5th of June 2017.

Words are magnets. Put two random words together, and they will enter in an (unintended) relationship. Of course in some cases it works better than others, in one case the result will be poetic, in the other criticism or humor will enter the stage.

As I was experimenting with this, using the tag words from DesignBlog, I noticed something. While combining the random words, they also started connecting to my surroundings, which were in that situation: the objects in my room.

Can random words and images enter in a “poetic threesome”?
I decided to do an experiment.

First I thought that maybe I should combine imagery from Google Image with the words, to make everything as random as possible. I tried this, but it didn’t really bring me any further. Of course some nice things happened, but it felt too general to me.

I liked the personal, intimate side of my first observation.
I made up two guidelines for myself:

1. use 26 tagwords from designblog starting with an “a”

2. use personal objects from your direct environment

I wanted to know what would happen, combining the random with the personal. The personal intertwined twice in the process: combining the random words.
I think I unconsciously made choices according to my own taste. Even though I tried hard to combine the words randomly, I couldn’t help seeing the connections that might happen. In the end, I’m a person, not an algorithm, and I decided to embrace this.

Also, the objects are personal. I chose objects that were personal because I got them from someone important to me, because they were mine for a long time, or because I use them daily.

I made may own small home-studio and started making the words and the objects literally interact.

Some interesting things happened:

– The impersonal words became more personal, and more meaningful, simply because they were combined with my own belongings

– The objects, that I’d always looked at in one way, became something else, the words created gateways to other meanings

 I think also the white background allowed the object to break with their original context and start forming new connections.

I found myself looking at my plant in a different way this morning.
Normally I barely notice it.

Am I living an automatic life? Or is the plant living an automatic life?

I wonder if there’s a third personal side to this: the connections we make when we see the random combinations. I make specific connections, someone else as well. We all have different imagery in our minds and different associations to the words used.

What will the objects think of all this?
I don’t think people would like to be put in a random context. I wouldn’t like to be called Amusement or About Absence.

Maybe someone will invent a way to give objects a platform for their opinion. Objects have rights too.
Until that moment, humans will have to give the objects meaning. And I think sometimes it’s good to re-evaluate this meaning.

Why should a fish be food and not amusement?

Can’t avocado’s also be animals?

Why should pepper never be afraid?

And why is Anita no hero when she’s standing in the kitchen all day?

To give my best overview of the creation of the play below is to say a visual campaign was of supplement to a mashed alphabet. Gravity helped me to sit on slow chairs in front of the digital art that was my photo achieve of personal stories, social history and environment. Maybe a dog popped in here or there. It was a process of critical thinking and curiosity to make a personal repossession of the photography. A bit like IKEA did with furniture. I gazed upon the hand in silence, with hidden feelings that I was living the lifestyle of William Chester Minor. My role was a kind of craftsmanship to dye the rules in nature with my own words, words that came to me from simply looking. Some would deem it additive manufacturing, like the work in progress of a futuristic master Azart artist. I was left with a list of words the size of a paperclip compared to the one to the left of me. I don’t disbelieve that if I were to continue my list would fill the human body, now it could fill a large poster made by Jan van Toorn or part of a suit or outfit. Although it would be a never ending process to fill Boijmans van Beuningen. Big here long now I was faced with the problem solving of a typographer, not like Sagmeister but one whose work was fair to say of careless design. The problem was generating a random selection of words to use like animal resources in chaos and order to be the leader and kiss the dialogue. I used a programme that was like some kind of Greek Thonic, that spurted words at me, a surprise selection, which I had to use like a Situationists. On the page the words look like a decoration or embroidery to a narrative surrealism, which imbedded hints of sexuality. To dream like a cyborgian I think I gave the sense of words in animation that in turn has self-made a whole loaf of poetic bread.

“Every word was once an animal.”

 -Ralph Waldo Emerson 

figure 1                                                        figure 2

Argument

In his 1974 essay Espèces d’Espaces (Species of Space) Georges Perec [x] states the following:

‘To live is to pass from one space to the other, while doing your very best not to bump yourself.’ (Espèces d’Espace, Georges Perec, p. 6)

Tine Melzer [x] in her 2016 essay (hand-out) subsequently notes that words are ‘magnets’:

‘A word has two ends and each awaits ties with another word.‘

Furthermore that the poetic ‘charge’ of several words together is based on such bonds:

‘When words meet up, they generate a field of tension, they go together!‘

In his 1958 book La Poétique de l’Espace (The Poetics of Space), Gaston Bachelard [x] points out that our whole perception of the world we inhabit based is upon our first encounters with the first universe of mankind: the house, the spaces we inhabit. He construct his argument by using the tactic of ‘Poetic Phenomenology’, which is to say, a philosophy built up while reading the poets.

Texts are a constellation of words, the same logic applies so to speak. Texts also have a magnetic effect. A late, albeit, useful discovery. They meet up as well, go together, and charge the field with the same sort of tension. And it this very tension that leads met to the following conclusion.

Something happens when we enter a room or when a work of poetry gently leans upon us. Something, to removed to mention, but there non the less. It leaves us tantalized. This is what we could call ‘the oneiric effect’. The tension, the magnetism has a familiar sound. It is in fact a logical extension of things I have referred to previously. Shortly put, I conclude: a word is a room and a room is a word.

Now what are the implications of such a statement? To illustrate further, this means that magnetism of words and text are played out on an even more poetic and fundamental level, for the visual has to be resolved and is dissolved by words and vice a versa. The visual and the language are (and become) then, in term, the concepts, notions, names and words we call upon to name our interior spaces, our inner houses, the room’s of our own.

This tension can even lead from time to time to vibration, think of Kandinsky’s ‘Seelische Vibration’, Think of a Paul Klee picture, think of the last time you drew a straight line, out of the blue. Try to imagine it again and try to measure it by using the corners of your childhood bedroom and you’ll see what this tension, this magnetism, this vibration, the poetic charge produces first and foremost: warmth, heat.

The subject of this research, this article, is informed by all of this, that’s why I called it: Species of Magnets in my house -see figure 1 and 2-  (small reference of course). For I have in my possession three texts that all deal with the design of such things, but all push and pull the same way, that is to say; like a magnet do. For to live is to imagine, is to speak from one magnet to the other while doing my very best not to bump myself. All these texts I wrote while walking in out of my house, while I did my very best not to bump myself  (of course).

Texts

I

I am the translator.

I am the the one who was too late. But I am the one who in time, has to defy and define, a divine straight line, or something in between, a shape and a dream.

Escabeau, 60° 55″ 6,54′

L’été, 51° 33′ 7,43′

II

In 1972, my grand-father left my grand-mother’s house in Strombeek, on the hilly outskirts of Brussels, for the first time. Just before his departure, he poured Pisang on the balcony, sealed off with dead plant leaves and broken pieces of glass, the apertures in which the different rooms were discussed and assembled, made alterations to the provision of shadow cells by taking 100.000 Belgian franks and left a feeling of sultriness and a trail of ashes on the radio, bookshelves and the countable rugs and carpets, making these regions of the house the most fertile for the following thirty years. But it was only during the last act, the act of inserting a silver object into a vexed area of a piece of wood, that he pronounced the terms of condition, while exposed to the strange and morose rendering of the orange light.

They are the following:

Vincent:

A day run astray but not lost. A dried-up carpet stain, a spastic vibration, taken faraway. A closed sometimes, while the sun comes in, anew.

Douffet:
A choice that at high temperatures glows in an environment of nitrogen and/or carbon monoxide and disposes, by means of evaporation a ceaseless flow of microscopic particles, which settle themselves on the inside of the house, whereby the house, in time, dusks.

Honte, La:

It is either a military tactic or an ululation (Klaagzang) that has it’s origin in the first sounds. It is a particular, grievous mode of weather which is converted into language upon its death.

Brasschaat, Belgique:

A form of rain that is neither poor nor stubborn. Theoretically, there’s an occurrence of acuity when approached, but acuity is relative and subbordonante to the songs and the smoke of the sea, plus, lake and the melancholy which is cherished by a diffusing sky.

III

Index of words used in this article:

Act

Albeit

Am

Anew

Animal

Aperatures

Are

Argument

Ashes

Assembled

Astray

Bachelard, Gaston,

Balcony

Bedroom 

Belgian

Best

Bump

But

Carbon

Carpets

Ceaseless

Childhood

Choice

Condition

Corners

Day 

Deal

Dispose 

Douffet

Dream

Dried-up

Each

Effect

Emerson, Ralph Waldo

Environment

Escabeau

Faraway

Feeling

First

Following

Forms

For

Franks

Grievous

Hand-out

Heat 

High

Honte, la

I

Implications

Inhabit

In

Klaagzang

Last

Leans

Level

Magnetic

Military

Morose

Neither

Nipomo

Nitrogen

Notions

Object 

Occurrence

Off

Orange

Outskirts

Phenomenology 

Pieces

Pisang

Poetic

Questions

Radio

Research

Room

Run

Shadow

Shape

Something

Spastic

Straight

Strombeek

Sultriness

Sun

Tactic

Tension

Time

Together

Too

Trail

Translator

Ululation

Universe

 Very 

Vice a versa

Vincent

Visual

Waldo, Ralph Emerson

Warmth

Weather

With

Words

Years

zig zag

I started knitting again.

I’t seem I have found pleasure in monotonous work.

Gradually I have become quite go for it.

Two times front, one behind, two times front, one behind.

My fingers do the work for me.

Two times front, one behind.

I knit and knit.

The hours fly by and I levitate with them.

I never knitted with wool like the common kitter. My wool is not shaggy and doesn’t scratch my cheek.

Even though I am pretty new in the field of knitting, I knit with thoughts.

The thoughts are merged into one another and create this perfect third.

Two times front, one behind.

They create an invisible blanket that I warm myself under.

The blanket has a few holes, some irregularities and even some loose ends here and there.

But I made it myself.!

And if I do say so myself, It actually looks  quite nice.

As I sit there and let your fingers glide through the fine material: two times front, one behind, two times front, behind. I discover a piece of blanket is missing.

It was stolen from me.

I immediately get more thoughts out.

Suddenly more and more of the blanket starts to  disappear. Bit by bit.

The sweat coming from behind.

Two times front, one behind,

I knit faster.

Two times front, one behind.

I try to bring more thoughts out, but soon there are no more of the good ones left.

So thoughts about him, slipping into the pattern.

And wupti! Just as suddenly as he becomes a part of the pattern, it disappears.

Faster and faster I knit now!

Two times front, one behind, two times front of a rear!

Sweat rushes forward and my fingers are cramping.

I panic! All of my work!

All the good thought in my blanket!

Haps!

And the last bite was taken.

With sore fingers, empty of any good thoughts, I sit back, disappointed.

Saddened and Deprived of my own thoughts.

Then I remember that I probably used some of the thoughts about him in my blanket.

You see,

I’ve got a new friend.

The Celptomania is his name.

It’s probably him!

He’s a predator for my thoughts.

But there’s no other way.

So I short the thoughts I have left, although they not all good.

And start over.

But this time with a different tactic.

Because I’m smarter than him!

Just wait! I think to my self and start my new blanket with this thought.

THE DOCTOR OF DEATH

On the 2nd of March at 14:35 I was sitting in the Starbucks at Rembrandtplein, ready to meet the “Doctor of Death”. It may sound like the title of a Blockbuster but in fact the Doctor of Death really exists between us. In Amsterdam. There are many more who have the same job like him but are not willing to talk about it. Believe me, I tried.

I meet Hans S. with mixed feelings. First of all because I was happy to finally find someone who wants to talk about his work and his feelings enrolled with it.

How does it feel like driving a Van filled with tools, make up, a cooling table and 2 big canisters of formalin? Does he whistle when he drives to work?

I was nervous, excited, but mostly curious to find answers to all the questions I had in my mind. It didn’t even matter to me anymore that I was sitting in a Starbucks coffee, listening to jazzy tones and observing the stage, filled with actors

A CALL FROM MY MEMORY

When I was asked to contact a person who’s work we are interested in I saw many pictures in my unconsciousness, but only one was very sharp. It was the picture of a Thanatopracteur. He looked into the camera (it was a scenery of a documentary I watched years ago), commenting: “I am not thinking about the fact that the person is dead. If I would think about his life, I couldn’t do this job as I would loose the focus.” The camera slides back and you see the surroundings of a body, covered by a clean, white sheet which is as stiff as the body under it.

FORMALIN VS. CELL EATING ENZYMES

A Thanatopractuer conserves dead bodies temporary with the help of the conscious use of chemicals. Four minutes after someone dies the body starts to decay. Blood circulation and respiration stops, the body doesn’t get oxygen and starts to release carbon oxides which cause an acidic environment. The low ph level causes cell membranes to rupture, releasing enzymes that would eat the cells from the inside out,……[x]. The “Doctor of Death” slows down the process by exchanging the body fluids, restore or reconstruct body parts in some cases and cover the appearance with make-up.

TO MAKE-UP THE DEAD

Hans S. told me his daughter describes her dad as someone who “makes dead people look beautiful“. In that sense he gives people who are left behind the opportunity to say goodbye on an open coffin in a respectful way. Especially when people die unexpected the left behinds want to get the chance to see the person one last time before the coffin is closed forever. Hans S. said that otherwise you don’t consider someone as dead. You need to have the visual proof, see the dead person to truly understand the consequences.

NASAL FORCEPS, MEDICAL SUCTION PUMPS AND MORTUARY TROLLEYS

My first intention meeting a Thanatopracteur was all about attending a practise. I was interested in the tools he would use and the process itself as I imagine it a strange scenery and atmosphere to see someone working on a dead body.

Unfortunately it turned out it is not possible due to hygienically reasons and privacy rules. Therefore I had to work with the information I get from the talk.

THE GERMAN CODEX

The most fascinating topic for me became funeral rituals as part of a culture and how they see death in the context of life. During my research and comparing funeral rituals from different cultures my own culture became strange to me. It seemed like other cultures like the Mexicans make death part of life and even celebrate it. In Germany funerals proceed a specific codex [x] in which some points can be designed free depending on the way the body is buried.

I have never been at a funeral as I never lost a close person. I can only make assumptions for myself, exploring the territory like a journalist but also as a concerned. One day I will be at a one.

THE FUNERAL AS A MEDIUM

I based my design object now on the idea to figure out what would help me to process the loss of a person and make use of the funeral as a medium. The funeral as a medium has the potential to help the bereaved to let go their emotions and share it. Everyone in the funeral came with the same intention and feelings as they had a story with the person who died. This creates an invisible bond between them which helps to feel no longer alone with your grief.

What if there was a room or space after the burial where you could go alone or together to transfer your emotions to an object and let it go whenever you feel like?

THE RISE AND FALL

The first idea I had was to create an installation with small, handmade objects from different materials that would refer to the person who uses it. Each object would be linked to a ring with a thread and on the ceiling there would be hooks attached. The Thread would go threw the hooks to make the object rise.

However when I was working on the objects I felt there was something wrong with it. It seemed too artificial, too complicated and overloaded. The thread reminded me of a doll house theatre and I felt the technique of rising something would keep your mind rather busy than free.

THE SUM OF 21g

However I still wanted to work with the body and the funeral as a medium to create a ritual, a shared experience for and with people who need to free their emotions.

While I was working on the objects I developed a feeling for the weight of different materials and started to become interested in it. I remembered from my research the story of a Doctor in the early 20ies, Ducan McDougall, who measured the weight of 5 persons just before and after they died. The result was, that their bodies lost 21 grams after the Doctor considered their death.

SCALE IS A BIT__!

I started to fell in love with the number and made it a restriction to create as many objects I can that would weight 21g in a sum.

I became inspired by the aesthetics of weights for precision scales and wanted to make objects that work as rings. Each ring would have a specific weight attached but will be carried by the person who chooses it.

 Immediately I began working on the objects in metal. However I didn’t had a precision scale during that time. When I already created a small metal collection I finally get a precision scale.

The precision scale made me realise to stop working in metal and find other materials instead.

THE UPSIDE AND DOWNSIDE

During the process the way how to carry the object became really important. As a jewellery maker I am trained to see the ring-head upside, on the hand. In Jewellery terms it is so to say the main character of the Design. But do I want to communicate that?

((((CONTENT)))) >  DESIGN

The Design of the objects became less interesting to me than feeling their individual weight. It was like you are holding something fragile in your hand and you want to protect it.

So I stopped considering the objects as rings that would decorate your body but start to explore the content. When the object is hanging from the finger you are more sensitive for the weight. You can close your Hand around the object and feel the shape, the surface, the temperature, the weight and it is energy. You start to imagine what could be inside and take all your time you need to carry it with you during the funeral. You would be free to test the other weights or talk to other people to exchange your experience.

THE WEIGHT OF LOSS

Duncan McDougall was obsessed with the idea to proof that the human have a soul by trying to measure it. For me as a creator it was interesting to work with the restriction of 21g. It became a challenge for me to be directed by a precision scale as it make you operate like a scientist.

The final piece will look like a wooden box on which surface there would be a formula resulting in 21g. Opening the box you would see different handmade weights not only from metal that you can carry with your finger. The box would be a suggestion to  put your thoughts of the dead person into the object and feel the weight of your memories, your thoughts and emotions. They will always stick to this object and you can carry it whenever you FEEL like.

CAPTURED AND CARRIED FOREVER.

Dying is something we all have to face one day.

When it finally happens, we trust on the people closest to us to give our remains a place to rest, playing the right music at our funerals and keeping us from being forgotten, by remembering us, and telling stories about us to our grand kids.
 
But what if a person dies who doesn’t have any close ones to remember them…
Who doesn’t have friends or family to attend their funeral..
 
In Amsterdam it happens multiple times a year.

The Pool of Death

Drug addicts, drunks or abusers rejected by friends and family…

Illegal migrants, wanderers and hobo’s without papers, permits and names…

Rejects and the misunderstood, whose mental disorder kept them living in seclusion… Recluses who cut off all social contacts or lost everyone that was ever dear to them… Elderly who outlived every last relative… Youth, abandoned and unable to survive on their own…

The pool of death is a group of poets, who honour the lonely deceased.

As the sole attendant of a lonely funeral they accompany the lifeless remains to the grave where they recite a specially written poem.

To write about someone, and give their story to the world, a poet needs to learn as much as they can. Like a detective, they look for clues. They visit the homes of those lost, talk to their neighbours, and search through city archives gathering as much information as they can to form a sense of the person that was.

The same week i received the assignment (to meet up with someone that inspired me), I attended a funeral, my second of the past two years. This very present sense of death and mortality made me think of the Pool of Death and the Foundation of Lonely Funerals, a project by artist/poet F. Starik.

Images above by Jan van Breda

 Frank Starik

I had met Starik once before, about a year ago, when he was clearing out his workspace. He was leaving his current atelier to work from home, and couldn’t bring all the things that had come to fill that space. I got a tip from someone very close to me who was helping him sort out what he would take with him from what he would sell, that the rest would be thrown out.

Amongst all the things, I found this big box. Inside it, were all these wooden crosses. They were old crucifixes that all seemed to be missing their christ figures, leaving them to look like movie props for an old Hammer production starring Christopher Lee. When I asked him why he had so many of them, and what happened to their prophets, he addressed me in the solemn but raspy voice of a chain-smoking reverend:

“Well my son, I have dedicated a great part of my life to freeing Jesus from the cross…he’d been hanging there long enough!”

When I later continued my look around, I found an army of Jesus dolls lying carefully displayed on the ground, as if they were all out sunbathing on the beach.

Along with the crosses, I left with some old photo works. Most of them were collages made on old canvas frames, all black and white.

 The Detective

On an early Sunday afternoon I went to my appointment with Starik at his house.

Next to his writing table stood an enormous plant and above his couch hung a note saying: “we are decent and normal”. Some of his work’s consist of a note or message, handwritten on a painter’s canvas. I really like these works. They might seem simple but they work really well.

I was curious about the proces of writing a poem for a person that just died, in total solitude. Somebody you’ve never met: how do you learn about them? Are you allowed to visit their homes and search for clues like a detective?

He told me that sometimes it was very difficult, depending on the situation. He was allowed to go into their homes, but a lot of times these were in total chaos. The anonymous deaths are often discovered when the neighbours call the police to complain about the smell. It can be weeks before they are found, and by then, the bodies are in a state of decay. But sometimes you can find something that can be of use. He confirmed my suspicion and said it was very much like being a homicide detective. He always makes a talk with the neighbours, and if the person still has some long lost family members, searching the city archives can be a big help.

Sometimes people have a strange relationship with public workers, relationships that in a way replace the lack of closeness with anyone else in their lives.

He told me of the anonymous death of an autistic man, who had a special relationship with his plumber. Being extremely parsimonious, he was particularly stingy about his water-heater, and feared spending even a single cent too much. Every day he would blow the flame out, fearing it was burning away a lot of unused gas. Sadly he was never able to reignite the flame, so every day, when he needed hot water, he would call the plumber to reignite it. Because the plumber understood the man’s condition, and knowing this system would actually cost him significantly more than he was trying to save, they worked out a deal. Each day he called, he paid only 10 euros. This was still significantly more than he would pay if he simply kept the water heater running..

He also told me about another man who fabricated the whole of his own history. Among the stories he told people is one about him as an important war hero with the resistance. His long lost family members however, said he had actually been working for the Germans. He kept on with these stories for so long that he came to believe them, and lived on in his own fantasy, in his own fabricated biographies. In the poem Starik wrote for him, he kept those fabricated stories alive and didn’t kill them off.

 The Design

After you die, you sort of live on in marks you’ve left behind..in handwritten letters and notebooks…in old grocery lists…in doodles and scribbles… because handwriting is really someones second voice. Handwriting is personal, has a character that speaks for itself: a voice that is read instead of heard. Reading a person’s script, you can almost hear a person’s voice talking.

I wanted to make a sort of vending machine, containing unopened letters written by somebody that passed, so that the living could receive letters from the dead.
This transformed into the big turning of the wheels, and then to the transfer turning of a scroll from the bottom to the top. Inspired by Starik’s written canvasses, it became a sort of alter, displaying a composition of words.
   
De Dichtkist (translates into “sealed burial box with poems“) is a tribute: a coffin for handwriting, an open casket, a single space for the second voice and all of its marks to collect, and with a bit of turning, display. As it fills up, that turning can lead to a sort of conversation. The second voice can speak with itself. Built from the wood of century old doors, de Dichtkist houses the marked memory of lives that will some day, come to end.

When we have an appointment ahead of us there is all kind of preparation, there is a planning, and there is a lot of expectations. On the other hand the beauty of having an appointment with someone that you do not know, I have to admit, is in the fact that just a little of what you have planned or imagined will happen.

The most important thing the public space means to me is when it allows you meeting something or someone unknown. When we are surprised, it will add to our life an emotion of discovering, and participating. Meeting someone or something that you do not expect, something that you have not seen before. Where does this encounter leave to you?

Many people feel alone in a city, and are living an unpleasant and isolate life.

Why? There are probably several reasons: is it because there are so many impressions that a modern city offers to us and make us feel lost? Or is it because the individualist way of living, where everything is centered on what one wants for her/himself, making people isolate from each other?

I want to participate in creating the feeling that we are creating and using the public space. That means that we ourselves are the ones who can make this space as we want. I start asking my self what and how I want the space I use and I share with the others?

I would like to create something that could connect people through the action. A  kind of action that we are used doing in every day life.

I started by analyzing mistakes or things that I dislike – or in other words those that I was looking for ….

First mistake would be to design something for people without observing what people do or want. I want something that connect people who don’t know each other. Some one asking to a stranger to help him to sit, for instance?

I started to understand that I had to design something for somebody else (out of my personal sphere) and in this case something for any kind of person: something universal

I reached the conclusion that you can not force someboy to do what you want but you must follow the organic situation that is present and that is important to put the subjects in question at the same level to each others.

I went far from the image of an object and I finally started by giving the importance to the fact that “If the actions are what unify people, what about if the actions are the one that tricker something?” so instead of the people having to go and do something to make that happen, it will focus on what they are already doing that will create an external factor. A factor that could be an emotion but could also be an aid.

I started to imagine it in a more playful circumstance.
My elements became the sidewalk floor, and the walking the triggering factor. As I said before there is no better meeting than with a stranger. I wanted to refer to people who don’t know each other… My project consists in a non platform.

This platform will be positioned under the tiles that form the sidewalk and connect only with the three of them. I imagine the Amsterdam Central Station as a starting point, because it is a place were many people from different backgrounds and identities are passing and walking.

While people are walking, tree people are activating a system that generates something. The soap bubble represents a good element for this situation, because it is an element that does not intimidate, and more important does not need to be cleaned up. The element could vary from different situation to different environment: for example if tree people are waiting for the bus and they are standing on the tiles. The tiles can pull out an umbrella for example that protects you from the rain or the sun. This means it can be open to us for many different choices but the goal will remain the same.

I want to give a special thank to Jesse Jorg who inspired me in this project.

‘Strandbeest‘ by Theo Jansen

Large sculptures made out of plastic PVC tubes, able to move on their own. An animal like mechanisms that does not need food, but just the power of wind.
Theo Jansen, a genius that fusions art and engineering, is busy since 1990 with his project called Strandbeests (Beach animals): a new life form on earth, yet unknown for humankind.

A life form looking at another form of life : What it means to be alive.
I always wonder why is it so exciting for me to watch the Strandbeests moving? Perhaps because I can not define at what I am looking at, is it real?
How to define it?
When I look up the word alive in the dictionary, I came across the meaning existing.

But wait, everything has an existence in space and time, so how can you recognize a life form? People may think, the fact that something is not animating is a reason of a non-life form, somehow no definition feels right to me. There is much more to living than having a heartbeat. There is much more to life than breathing and the blood flowing through your veins. You might be living, but are you alive?
What if matter has a life on its own, able to learn, teach and to stretch its ‘lifespan’ beyond humankind? An alien matter that absorbs intelligence and reaches capacities that go far beyond our own.

Inspired, I went to Delft at Theo J. exhibition with the hope I could come across his path and there we go: I was able to talk to him. Unfortunately our meeting was so spontaneous,  that I just got a few minutes. Nevertheless it felt like a miracle, he ended our conversation with the sentence man should get rid of its ego, then he will be able to see the real qualities in life.

I got fascinated by his way of being, how modest and grounded he was when we met. He is not an artist but rather a happy victim of his work which is pure functional. The tubes are the ones making the process beautiful.

As miraculous life is, I decided to adopt a Strandbeest myself, the Animarus Ordis Parvus. First It needed to be born so I assembled 117 plastic pieces together. About an hour, the evolution was finished and I had my own beast at home.

During the process something weird happened to me, something I can not explain. It was like a virus in my head : the beast’s rubber feet.

I got inspired to work with Silicone. Why Silicone and not something else? Something that remains a mystery. What happened to me, at this moment? Perhaps it started to communicate with humans, perhaps it chose me.

Silicone is a synthetic polymer made up of silicon, oxygen and other elements.It is generally liquid or flexible and the rubber like plastic has useful proprieties. From medicine to personal care items.

Sometimes there is a confusion between Silicon and Silicone. Silicon is a naturally occurring chemical, a key element in bricks, cement or glass. It is the second most abundant element in our earth crust, after oxygen. Whereas Silicone is a chemical substance that derives from Silicon.

Silicone often stands as a tool for the use of something else. Maybe it is living, maybe I should threat it as a oneself.

Exploring the matter

I started experimenting and researching on the structure, and I tried to find out some processing and proprieties of the material. I adapt myself to the matter, a constantly evolving process between human and material.

There are different kinds of Silicone and they all have different proprieties from each other. From sticky to stinky.
The Silicone from the hardware shop has never a clear structure, it is really hard to manipulate while it’s liquid. Impossible to work without mask, it almost intoxicates you.

The splintered structure could almost be found in nature.

Birth of Silicone

Silicone organ

colour absorption
I experiment with different kinds of tools such as a pencil, a marker, watercolours , acrylic, ink.

One ting that was completely new for me is that, Silicone can print.
This technique just works with Silicone from the hardware shop, because it is so sticky.
It absorbs the ink while drying and the text or image will appear reflected.

 At the end, it is hard to discover something mind blowing in such a small period of time. Theo Jansen is still researching on the same material since 1990 and he thinks that there is a long path to be done.

In a constant flow of doing and learning, there were plenty of disappointments on the way. But on the few occasions that things worked out, being connected to matter is such an enriching experience.

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