Family and Friendsseven drawings
Recent Me Too scandals have led to two powerful affects in people: anger and shame. Those two affects are intimately related, because anger is often expressed by inflicting shame on the person at whom the anger is directed, as in ‘shame on you!’ We punish people by making them shameful. (Ernst van Alphen in SHAME! and Masculinity)
PlatitudesDe Gids Literary Magazine
Every artisthood is teeming with platitudes. Repetitive anecdotes, topoi, that give every artist biography the same setup: he or she, always alone; real talent eludes schooling; thousands shouted out, only a handful chosen. Large or small talent, they all put their lives at stake for something that wants to transcend life. Art goes before offspring, reaches beyond death.
Another Erased Drawingdrawing
Much of what I do is hybrid and/or has little focus on the maker(s), but what happens on paper is good old self-expression. Therefore, for years, drawing and making collages did not mix with the rest of my work, until I discovered that you can decide to neglect this separation.
To anyone with a burnout I say: start drawing. Not with a plan, or an idea, or an expectation, or an ambition, but simply drawing. Go back and forth over the paper, with pencil or chalk, like a stroll in the neighborhood. This is how hand, head and heart will reconnect.
I Shot Madonnamedia recycling
When she comes past I click away hysterically. Not even with the intention of getting her picture but I'm in the press enclosure and have to pretend that I'm a photographer. I'm so occupied with the camera and she goes by so fast that I hardly catch a glimpse of her. The print I have made is blurred. Also that night was the first time Madonna showed up with a black hairdo instead of her usual blonde, so nobody recognizes her on the photo.
Bert Luttjeboerdrawing, photo, text
I was intrigued by the fact that I had to work for hours or days or weeks on end and would still fail to come anywhere close to what the camera had seen in a split second. One night, after a long day of working with minute precision and concentration, I went out to a bar and ran into Bert.
Polaroid of the former Polaroid factory in Enschede. I photographed the logo in 2001 as research for 'Wij', an exhibition at Kunstvereniging Diepenheim investigating the cultural identity of the Twente region. The factory closed in 2008 and the text sign has been removed in 2009. Polaroid is an edition of 20, a few are still for sale.
Susan Sontagdrawing, photo, text
I've always thought of photography as something very magical and it is my belief that this is based on a genuine experience: in my early childhood there must have been no sharp distinction between a real thing and its image - in the same way that kids see themselves as inseparable from their mother until the age of three, I thought that object and image were simply two different manifestations of the same energy.
Lauren & Claudiacollage, double sided
Interview covergirl Lauren Hutton was photographed by Francesco Scavullo in 1973. She's wearing Galanos - from his exciting fall 1973 collection. Accessorized by Galanos, makeup by Way Bandy, hair by Rick Gilette. The photo was re-photographed by Anuschka Blommers and Niels Schumm in 2003, with model Uta Eichhorn posing as Re-Magazine covergirl Claudia. She's wearing a black dress by Hermès. Styling by Katja Rahlwes, makeup by Renata Mandic.
Tekeningen 1995 - 1997drawings
Met een zweepje onder z'n oksels geklemd 'berijdt' een naakte man een op z'n kop staand paard. Terwijl hij met z'n anus over de paardenlul glijdt, perst een eveneens naakte vrouw zich met moeite in het poepgat van het rijdier. Om haar daad kracht bij te zetten, duwt ze met haar hand tegen een denkbeeldige muur - een muur die tevens de kadrering vormt van het op papier getekende seksspelletje. (Nathalie Faber - Het Parool 3-2-1998)
Onkenhoutgalvanized bronze, text
Staring at the picture of the garden on the postcard I catch a glimpse of my mother in a version of her life that she never lived, one in which Nico had gotten in touch, after that evening out. Perhaps now she'd have a different surname and be sitting by a different fire drinking wine with a different child. In a moment that feels like an oedipal short circuit, I experience something impossible: that I never existed.