EXHIBITION THINKING

THINKING while wondering

How to show silence of a feather, while a constant roar shout behind me.
Perhaps light, just what my camera and me see. Perhaps only what the camera sees, working with a tool of light.
Silence is no more, contradiction became a constant.

silence of a feather

What is the aim of the expo? Water? Nature? Drops? A spark off hope for nature?
A whistle in a wing on flight. A drop in the ocean.

 

just a perfect drop

A drop disappearing on the moment of that turn, your turn, your flight. A desperation to hold on what disappears before your eyes.
A pain without words, as nothing can describe it.
Picture vanishing drop, which goes where so many went before.

what you see is not what i see

Vanishing beyond time, as we limit our seeing to now,   later is now, past appearance, all dimensions in 1 moment.
Eyes need to form an fifth dimension, not 3, not past, now, later, add under, above, inner, behind, interaction, interconnection.

see

It hurts to see destruction, so you can stand above, so you can controle, so you can monitor.
I have no idea how to show, what positiveness you let – , we let destroy as we learn every day not to see. We see no inner feeling.

sunrise in a flash

Confrontation will not matter, anything. They will see me as something to ignore, justifying judgement with fire-eyes.
What if i show what is different, yet this has been done over and over, again and again.
I will not show what you can do, been there done that.

It didn’t work.

spelen met licht

Perhaps, therefor, i want to show what you can’t see, as we can’t see the inner pain, the inner connection.
Perhaps i want to show the inner, intimate, hidden, repressed, internal, secret, personal moment.

beauty within

 

I am busy preparing for an exhibition in February 2018, this thinking is the beginning of a process. The aim will be to do something more with photos than just showing framed images.
To see beyond time, beyond dimensions.
You can follow the progress here from time to time.

dabe-art

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I HAVE A MORTGAGE TO PAY, I CAN’T BE AN ARTIST

I HAVE A MORTGAGE TO PAY, I CAN’T BE AN ARTIST
So here we are, feet passing by, feet standing stil, feet in shoes, shoes over feet, touching concreet, not seeing, not feeling.

 

stand still

 

Stripes of past measurements!
There is no need to wait, there is no need to expect, moving feet, talking,  without saying, the popularity of a shoe.

 

FEET

 

passing

 

Talk to me, so glad, so filled with nothing, shadow on the wall, giggle in the air, we say yes, we nod no, catch the moment,  that moment, which always pass. i don’t need you, your talk, your walk, your subdirection, heard it all before, the kind ways of going nowhere, leaving nothing, chasing shadows.

 

shadows

 

Don’t mind unprocessed photoscape, staying, speaking, no meaning inside please buy mine. i don’t care, please pass by,   i can see you, no phone in my hand just a wooden pencil to feel wood to write a moment over feet standing, wandering under no seeing glassed eyes, its nothing to mind.
Lets sit down, its good, no, but its good, whistling back home game.

 

effe zitten ja

 

let me hide hide away from it all, let me, let me HIDE as it becomes much much. Human appetite for being best better best, hunting sadness a sad expression of, what, want to be. The final decision of that one person wearing the shoes, the steel smile of me and me, let me hide please walk, by, the sadness, not here, not there, hide away.

Realisation Fluctuation of art, enjoy what is not there, avoidance becomes a well known factor inside compilation, surrounded corner. So good to see a true smile, a wandering speciality, once again once again.

 

pas die schoen

 

Shut the door with lights in eyes no not again a situation to escape hiding in a glass hollow vision, with blue glow in hair from ten thousand movements. There most be a way out of here, beard attraction, tears in eyes differentiation problems, walking, seeing, get some sure visuality!

taking part in an art fair 

TENDER TENDER

TENDER TENDER

While wandering around the Sculptur-Projecte 2017 in Muenster, Germany i stubble on the most amazing concrete poetry, called Tender Tender by Michael Dean.

love locks

It might be inspired by the many love-locks you find around in the city, but no explanation was given, which makes it even better.  Looking at it from one site or the other site, you see what you want to see, it plays with seeing and reading.

see through

What do you see while you are reading a poem, or a story, or just one line.
The poem is juxtaposed around all over and in the sculpture. At times shredded and than it is crumbled and even painted or hidden behind a wall on the top floor.

hidden words

You can see it from above like organised chaos, but perhaps thats what love is, organised chaos.
Only to shred that idea when you see a printed danger tape with frecksake fucksake. Yet while on your knees you see love.

you can see that no need to say more

butte why than, yes why than, all the fists hmmmmm ok that one goes with the crossed fingers so why.
well one thing shows through it all the meaning of concrete, right there, everywhere, but don’t follow me just see it yourself and go on your knees to see every detail and than go up into the air to see it from that different angle.

maybe tomorrow yes perhaps tomorrow

 

OOOOOh and when you spy through that screen don’t be surprised to see love you should not see.

can you see it

however i just and i mean just LOVE it it made my day and even month finally creative writing a very creative love song butte it is not a love song

poetry printed and printed again and again everywhere

lots of love

and more

more

PRICE OF ART

I woke up with you in mind hearing your shouts, seeing your act art you said art

as i wait for the first bird song you wait for the first embarrassment

you have a name, you have a fame, you teach to earn

scream to act art you say

the thousand fine lines a question the embarrassment

RAIN DROPS IN THE AIR

Looking further into some facts

the aim for the shame

searching for what is lost

inside a scream of silence a scream of taal

en nog eens taal

Vergeefse woorden zoeken naar menselijke mening, menselijke redenering

ik herinner, terwijl de vogel mij niet ziet

een vermenging van woordeloze Beelden

Verbeelding van menselijk gezag

het gezegde van een FLITZZZZ

onderweg van het weg zijn van de

WALKING IN THE RAIN

roaring trucks, zooming first cars

into the silence faling raindrops, rolling of leaFs

circles

somebody else has been here, footprint from behind

shout for what is lost, what will be lost

only without the anger, leaving that embarrassment

a shout of silenced grieving, act silent walking, over a noisy track

should i act this sadden dance to get attention for loosing

perhaps it is the falling of failing

FINGERS

dat ik bewandel na de nacht

een druppel hier            een druppel daar

een gloeiende plaat, in ieder hoek

taal zeg je een vergeten woord van het niet willen weten

stilletjes nat worden voor het zien van dat kunstzinnige moment

kunst waar vind je dat, aan een hangende tak zonder bladeren

het niet weten voelt veilig aan

nee, laat maar     ik wil het voelen

achter de pijn van verliezen ligt de glorie van schoonheid

DIE komt zonder prijs

dansend over een bank, terwijl de bankrekening loopt leeg

genietend van een teer moment, regen valt niet leeg

SEED

treecreeper crawls away vertical movement

now

the rain truly falls

100 1000000

one hundred million

for a piece of skull

money of dead reminder of bulbs 1640

art for few collecting emptiness, no tax on art

10,000 times 10,000

art against reason a silent reminder of what i don’t want

is het een kunst om iets te maken waarvan iedereen zegt wat knap

of

CAMPER IN THE RAIN

is het een kunst om iets te maken wat jezelf niet echt snapt

een vergeten liedje van herman van veen met blijvende gedachte goed

walking back through the rain leaving art well behind

i sell what i create

artinisme off

dripping drops make no difference

i see your anger of lost words

leaf your act of desperation

its all a vague nothing on lendless paper

REGEN WEG

ik ga verder met mijn zin

zinloos dwalen tussen woorden van niets

lege druppels in jouw haar

warme bries in mijn gedachte

verder heeft het geen

ZIN

 

DABE ART

bOw

bOw

do you see that word a silent word
hanging from every stick, from every line, in every circle
it says noting that word of stilte
would it be something you know, something you said, something you saw, while you question your seeing

lijn en line

untrusting minds wander along the glister trail
shimmer movement, no wind, no rain over sunbeams entrance
one site, other site, underneath a drop rainbow arrange itself for your eyes

toevallig

any footstep will make it disappear
unhurry for that tiny moment of seeing, listen to no words
don’t let me show you, don’t let me
be surprised with wandering words, under silent feet, conformation of nothing
the river flows, a drop bows, unpredictable show

goede morgen

als de betekenis van het gesproken woord weg is op het moment het wordt gehoord, laat staan als het wordt herinnerd
ik kan het niet zeggen als jij het hoort

webber

 

ZOEK LOOK

ZOEK LOOK

captured light

believe in Beauty, flashing senses
it takes courage to see sensuality
zoek a look
sensuous sentence, offers a pattern
simplifying simulation every stone in a Bubble
zoek a look

stil 

drop without an ocean, no flow of quadrant
a distant tree, whispering names on your way
zoek a look
across silent breaks
its in your hands, under your feet flowing in your ears
zoek a look

what goes around comes around

there over there
whiteout a whisper following maze
zoek a look
around description
saying nothingness
zoek a look

it hurts

Dottle over a road, of mystery meaningless tread
tired march of stems
zoek a look
wisps makes you go
used to empty rooms, no matter what you do
zoek a look

saampjes

locked away rocks
freak window seal leaking dreams
zoek a look
drop by drop, lash-hold of the scream bird
leave window by horsehairs
zoek a look
purple shoes as wings

wings in your eyes

A certain dream while walking along in different shoes around different times into different landscapes. Holding my camera in my hand.

dabe-art.org

STORY WHEEL

STORY WHEEL

The concept of a garden as a piece of art will be discussed for many years to come. The Japanese see gardens as art, no discussions there any more.

Zen-Scape inspired by Japanese gravel gardens

We from Dabe-Art were talking about it; you can’t answer this question without talking about the criteria for art. Creativity would be a number one, unusual would be an other, using material in a different way and last but not least a thinking behind it (intellectual). For many people art ends by making something beautiful (aesthetic) for us at Dabe-Art it is more than creating something pretty.
When Derek Jarman made his garden in the last years of his life his aim was not beauty, he used different materials, not just plants, he had an idea  which developed while making the garden. The garden he created became art and people use it as an example for a garden as art.

Vision 2004

Like any art a garden start with a base, the soil is for the gardener what an empty canvas is for a painter, or a block of clay for a sculptor. Before we create our art we work on the base,  the empty area. On the moment i work on the soil and like other artists while working on the empty the filling happens in the head.
A criteria for art we forgot is passion, if you don’t have the passion you will loose it already while making the empty base. The passion will filter through and makes it all worth doing.
You can understand why the Japanese gardeners made the weeding into something special, something creative, while weeding they create certain patterns otherwise their gravel would be hidden under a shower of greenery. The gravel gardens they made have inspired many gardeners for centuries, including myself.

wheel at the walled garden 1997

While reading Earthly Joy written by Philippa Gregory, about a famous English gardener and wanderer John Tradescant, it came to my mind to write a life story as a garden.
An autobiography written through landscapes into a garden landscape.
The soil from the garden gets shaped in an old design “The Wheel” a large circle divided in 8 triangels leading to an inner circle, like a wagon wheel. You will find the design in many old cultures around the globe. Each triangel of the Story Wheel will tell a story of a place where i lived during my life, reflecting how that place shaped experiences.

the Story Wheel where old and new will meet

The stories start at, yep the East, as there the day start as well as the night, sunrise, moonrise. Each triangle will hold a tree connecting the triangle to the place it describes. When all the flesh melts from the bones them trees will grow on and on changing the face of the land, hiding the written stories.

While weeding away, to have my blank canvas, my mind wanders to all them places and the piece, triangle by triangle starts to live and get filled.

So a new piece of Land Art began, which will grow on for many years to come just like many of my other Land Art.

You can follow here how it slowly but certainly take shape and how the creative story evolves.