From New to Renew

I don’t make anything new. Everything I do have already been done. Maybe even for a 100 years. Maybe even for 1000 years. Maybe even for 10.000 years. Maybe even for 100.000 years. I sure hope so. If what I do have been already done for 100.000 years I know I am on the right track. What I do comes through my hands. What I do comes through my mouth. I speak and make. Through my arm I fit into the world. Through my mouth I communicate with the world. I speak though my hands and make through my mouth. My mouth make much moist too. My hand is usually dry. What does it mean to make something that already has been done? Actually, it depends how you define it, New. I am not interested in any definition. My mind is much wider when I see my gestures as in a line of gestures. Inheritance, shared imagination perhaps. I mean, how else would it be possible. I re-do, re-imagine, re-think, re-enchant, re-discover, re-fit, re-new. Continue. Continue. Continue. Continue.

“3 2 1 zero and beyond” (2017), silkscreen prints, 45 x 60 cm. Solo exhibition at Lokaal 1b, Amsterdam.

Transparency

Transparency. Shatter the surface! Splash the surface of the water too see what lies beyond. Darkness, wetness, not afraid. Maybe. Need it. Mould, earth, deep waters. Lying there floating, can neither go up or down. Floating in the North Sea, horizon only sea and sky. Water and air meeting on your spine. She sees the sea. Last sentence, strange origin.  Depth, deeper, very deep, dark. Turn off the lights. Then you can see what is hidden from sight. Too see what is really hidden from sight. What a strange thing to say, because it is always there. Life is born out of darkness. Like the seeds. Am I dark inside? Small cells glowing, gleaming, so the others can find the way. Glowing veins. Light from inside to outside.

“3 2 1 zero and beyond” (2017), mono-print on textiles, 260 x 380 cm. Solo exhibition at Lokaal 1b, Amsterdam.

Meganisoptera

“Meganisoptera” (2015), mono-print, textile, wood, 2,2 x 2,5 x 2,7m. Part of the exhibition, A Supernova, VU Hortus, Amsterdam. Photo: Kristina Benjocki.

Because of the many fossils we know that the dragonfly have barely changed for almost 350 million years. This unchanged creature represents something mysterious and unknown form a time I cannot grasp. The dragonfly’s short life-span as flying about a summer season seem to not matter within the confines of it’s timelessness.

Where Can I See It? is a beautiful film essay made by artist and organizer Sara de Campos and filmmaker Jasper de Bruin for this special exhibition.

Migration

“Migration” (2016), indian-ink and paint, ca. 175m² including sidewalls, height 12 meters, for the exhibition Shifting Spaces at W139, Amsterdam.

I can see the sea from here

“I can see the sea from here” (2012 – ongoing), silkscreen print, silk and cotton textile, 90 cm x 110 cm.

What is very liberating with thinking about metamorphosis, is that it is nothing new. Creativity in relation to change is claustrophobically associated with the new. I don’t understand what this new is supposed to be. Something pops out of the Black hole? How can I think something that is not already here? So therefore, I think everything. The potential for metamorphosis is right in front of my eyes. The question is then not how far I can see, but how close.

wind / water/ waves

“Weaving a word / weaving a world” (2012), textiles, embroidery and digital print, various size, KABK Academy gallery, The Hauge.

The folded and unfolded work. Unveiling the words and story.

The word window, carries the meaning “an eye to the wind”. Wind-eye or vindauga in origin. A photo and image is like a window, to look out, but to stay separated and protected from the wind. For the being of folds, the wind is inseparable. The textile folds. It is very very windy. The folds of the earth would be it’s sand-dunes perhaps. The folds of water it’s waves. A folded textile work. Thoughts ready to travel or be unfolded. Or perhaps stay folded from sight.

Making the words and images inseparable from it’s form. The thoughts being a thread stitched with a needle into the textile. At the moment the form was given to them, the images and words, thoughts and notes, they grounded and became. A line from a text became a pattern, a color, an image, a shape, an open book, a tale.