the bigger drop


Non orientable surface concept closely related to projection is the casting of shadows.
If the wire frame from a cube is lit from above the resulting shadow is a square within a square, with the corresponding corners connected.


Black reflection of a forest

it is a tree

Our vision is limited, we only see a small area of our vision, what we can’t see is there.
Our focusing ability is limited, however our brains fill in what we don’t see.
When you observe physical entities with your observation, they are changing their character.

there are shadows

tree in water or the sky


Our reality could be a simulation off ……….  It helps us to deal with our own incapacity to see what is before the beginning and what is behind the end.
The Greeks called it Horror Vacui; fear for empty, nothing exist, there is no driver.
Progress in our intelligence to do so, development of our technologie to do so.

hidden for our eyes



Representing inner reality, feeling combined with thinking, silent memories, silent moment.
Simulation done by others is easy to believe and to explain as it doesn’t focus on our inability to see certain things.
We detect movement more than stillness, contrasting colours.

leaf in mid air leaving



As our minds fill in, who fills in our minds, the camera, the microscope, the movie or the person behind, a book or the writer, the newspaper or the journalist, the frame or the picture.

being in a bubble

the forest


Thanks to a book i realise why we don’t always want to see what there is to see. It put our own vision in a question with several answers.
We don’t see the plants in the details, we can see them, they form a green blur in the passing. We focus on animals, humans, we focus on the centre, contrast.

Plants are all around us under our feet, above our head, left, right, middle, small, big.
Plants fill our air, our water, our soil. Plants live on plants in plants under plants.

Making art with plants you need to learn to see them.


tree flag

Tree Flag

While thinking about the Land Art Forests i have not forgotten about the exhibition and how to show feelings within thinking.
While doing so, the path is filled with new perspectives even in the new sciences of plants. A new way to see nature a way to create nature a way to give nature.





Than just than the water became a mirror as the wind called behind.
It revealed silence in noise, in uproar, sound echo  echo, silence in noise
sound source of silence, underwater while above, on the surface feathers
still there, like screams of geese and line clouds of wasted journeys
silence my mind

paint reality

to see what you and me can’t see
don’t want to see
a laced wing, laced netting, filigree cord sting
intertwine, interweave, mix it all, give it silence
klingerly klang of a horse shoe on concrete

glace wing

see beyond time
a feather comes with thousand drops
to do what hasn’t been done
camera under water under surface reality
dare to see surplace reality shattered movement

under or above thats the question

a boat past, waves come all moves
wobble bobble zobble
into reappearing silence, moved to be stuck
a drop reflection into a subtle action
reaction of a fraction into
inner moment, inner movement
shadows reflection, than just than

moved to be stuck

the boat pushes her under where i lay surprised
faces what to see, no longer care
all them drops
just one little feather
feels so good, so beautiful, attractions
in that one tiny moment of passing

that feather

by elegant, glamour on a surface movement
shift in charm, to relocate me and
seeing beyond, seeing inside reflection, under drops
we only see outer reality
stir, switch, leave, transfer

drop reflections

seeing in three dimension
i have to go now, i need a piss
my inner calling
how to make 2D into 3D with an inner feeling
kijk nou

een veertje dat me heeft leren zien, leren kijken, een ander perspectief.

it will never be sure when or how we see not knowing how to show

mAgdA september 2017 alblasserdam



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



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



roaring trucks, zooming first cars

into the silence faling raindrops, rolling of leaFs


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



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



treecreeper crawls away vertical movement


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




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



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





WALKING DOWN THE COAST PATH on a windy winterly afternoon in spring, a north/eastern wind bites the air while the spring sun shines.
It will not be an aimless walk, of no direction as i know exactly where i am going and how to get there. The first bit is with my face in the wind but it will be the shortest bit and the bit i don’t want to see. The stopping at the site of the road to let a car past as their stink burn my nose, hurt my lungs and make my heart quiver, lucky not too many do past by and them who do, the wind helps me by pushing the trail of pain vastly away in thin air.
The turn off from the road away from cars shows just an other human cultivation of space in the shape of farm buildings, so my head turns to the right to drawn into the hundreds of Daffodils, a good moment to stop and breath.

aimless walking

A stiff clothed arm moves into the cuddle bag for the camera, a small enough camera to hide in the corner. The yellow complementary colour against the blue of the sky a click a moment a movement an other click and other vision and other capture on the screen into an other screen showing the world where i have been.  Stepping over cattle grid into a field where the human becomes the animal watcher while loosing her faint to see the old, very old building of stones.
Millenniums ago people walked here but it was not a field as we see it now. Them people saw the sea than, as we see now a highway, they say to give their dead the best view of their life, thats whats the building represent perhaps for some, maybe for others, not for me. It shows the shadow of the past that i do not know, a shadow of human activity, of human alteration.

aimlessreminderofthepast As i walk past the dying sheep which has no hope to stand up anymore, i wonder shall i go back or shall i move on. The gate opens, the open air factory of a productive field, full of sheep with one lost sheep. The path is not straight, is not hard, do we ever walk in a straight line or do we just follow what an other left behind so we don’t need to make our own choice, becoming idle in our movement. The ocean water, the sea as how i see it, vibrate in the shining sun as no rain stained the water for more than a week. The wind sketches white lines randomly over the surface creating small jewels, like dropped pearls from the sky. My eyes wander along aimless art, art made by coincidence, made by elements who react to each other. I walk towards the waves with the wind in the site and than turning an other gate to move along with the wind in the back. A relieve as my bare face faces now the sun not the wind.

aimlessemptyfieldTHE WANDERING through an empty field has no straight followed track, no aim of direction. In an empty field, where did the other go, shall i follow, shall i go elsewhere, what shall i see. In that way, sheepness sleepy walking. Move away alter the being, be alone in emptiness to follow your own line. Create your art within art as it does not need to be explained. It has no price, it has no number, it has no name. It is alter, never here, never there, alternate, the alter alternative. A short meaningless talk about an even more meaningless coat, a coat to keep me warm shows respect of what we can make. It shows a difference to beauty as it has a function within a coat to keep me warm now for years but it shows my fellow humans of what can be different. Nope i didn’t make it myself, i bought it as a bargain as nobody wants to really stand out yet so many appreciate the once who do stand out, swarm intelligence, crowd thinking. From the empty field behind the shelter of an old stone wall the boundary between cultivated open air and wild open air. I sit down to rest with my back against the wall, sheltering me from the wind, i become warm, from the beams of the sun, i feel spring.

aimlesabridge My tears salted the bridge of my nose as the wind blows the salted waves curving the rocks, creating a bridge, creating an edge, a wandering line between dry and wet, curving a vision of a division. I write down some words, meaningless words, in a notebook, a slim soft notebook, with roses on the covers and a useful bar of lines to tell a price, a number, which don’t give a value too the words i write.
The words appear from the free pencil from the store of money, a tiny pencil with their name, so, you always remember where you got it, to make you feel guilty you didn’t buy, well not me.
I scribble the line of the coast line over lined paper, straight lines of the paper getting covered by the curving line of sheltered bays and beaten rocks. How can words describe this how can a photo show this, show, tell, a feeling of lost while gaining a sense of freedom?
Due to my disability, my non-ability, i see what others just pass as they walk from one line to the next line their eyes focussed on the distance, i cannot walk on end, i must stop time after time to get my breath back to make my heart stop chasing an unseen rabbit.
My heart was never right always wrong and it made my body adept, it made my mind sing a song to cover the scream of pain. Yet, that heart made me see the beauty of the world. What does the other see while they just walk past, drive past, sail past, fly over. What does the bird in the sky see, her language is not mine, she shout and i hear but i do not know her meaning.

aimless curve of coast lineMy new piece of art based on the empty feeling of rest-bite at the site of the sea.


Where the wave alters the Rock, where the shrub alters her behaviour, where life is alteration of adaptation. A walk of 1 hour takes me 4 as my health makes me see, makes me create. This is where i am staying this is my home.

New patterns from new disorders open like a Rose.