For a little girls' first birthday
Friday, December 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
SOLO
Monday, November 15, 2010
SOLO: the maker ain't so lonely as before
For my first solo exhibition after the end exam I had agreed on making a commissioned work to be exhibited for only two hours during a musical performance in the Kleine Zaal of the Concertgebouw. After struggling to live up to the expectation of my commissioner, I forwarded my assignment to an Italian craftsman in the form of an open invitation. The letter sent contained almost no indications of how the object should look or feel. The only specific requirement mentioned when I wrote: 'The object is not meant for the celebration of a particular event or happening, but it wouldn't hurt if the object shows a certain sensitivity. A lot of people may find themselves lonely, if a work in space would have no reason. '
The object finally presented was delivered one day before its exhibition by the Florentine maker Fabrizio Tani. The letter sent was published in a dedicated brochure for the exhibition (see images). That day on the stage of the Concertgebouw the commissioner, the artist, the maker and the sculpture itself, finally met each other for the first time. The work called: SOLO: the maker ain't so lonely as before
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Wednesday, July 7, 2010
No Country for Old Men
An experimental glossy magazine about making dough. Consisting of a photo shoot where I asked two young fellow artists to knead dough in the bakery before the dawn. Zooming in on the physical aspects of making as moulding and re-moulding material. Reflecting on the time of preparation of the academy which would eventually lead to the professional side of "making dough" known in the English language as making money. These photographs spanned the timeline (beginning to end) of the magazine which was further filled with text contributions from close friends about making, craft and loneliness. The enigmatic title meant to propagate non-conformity to any given age, any given trade and any given place.
20.0 x 18.0 cm 40p. Edition of 500 free editions presented at Gerrit Rietveld Academy 07/2010.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
My name is mine, 2009
ENSCHEDE – From being to becoming. About an act of necessity. About poverty and boredom but most of all about myself and what I don't understand. That one little less lonely day I purposefully vandalized the garage doors of my neighbours. On five of seven doors, which ungracious letters I had written my name since I could not find another word with meaning.
What while writing on every single door something in me changed. The very first letters being drawn were a little small but in a few strokes became bigger, abitious, blind and wild. Till I reached the fith and not the last door and atopped. When out of breath and with pain in my chest I realized the irrversibillity of my actions.
The meaning of my name is the consequence of my name. Thats why the neighbours hadn't take long to approve someone guilty. But see also that I was the first expression where I had shown myself five times larger than myself.
It was as if I had given away my name, for it to become something vulgar and hard and it resembled creases more than sings. And so I was confronted for the very first time with the temporality and value of art when my parents received the bill for repainting the garage doors.
And I do not now if I held myself responsible because I was convinced I was totally alone. Strangely capable of looking at myself with the nakedness of an object. That is my name.
What while writing on every single door something in me changed. The very first letters being drawn were a little small but in a few strokes became bigger, abitious, blind and wild. Till I reached the fith and not the last door and atopped. When out of breath and with pain in my chest I realized the irrversibillity of my actions.
The meaning of my name is the consequence of my name. Thats why the neighbours hadn't take long to approve someone guilty. But see also that I was the first expression where I had shown myself five times larger than myself.
It was as if I had given away my name, for it to become something vulgar and hard and it resembled creases more than sings. And so I was confronted for the very first time with the temporality and value of art when my parents received the bill for repainting the garage doors.
And I do not now if I held myself responsible because I was convinced I was totally alone. Strangely capable of looking at myself with the nakedness of an object. That is my name.
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