Heavy Weather

I am the warrant and the sanction.

2010-01-24T21:32:00.010+01:00

It's been nearly a year since my last update. I feel embarrassed to be posting again, after a 10-month absence, but I'm doing it anyway.
All in all, 2009 was not my best year, and I'm glad it's over. Some good things happened though, mostly related to De Optimist, the Dutch digital cultural magazine I'm running together with a delightful group of people. We established monthly updates; we gathered a growing crowd of readers and writers; we threw a great party in June and we were able to be part of the popular Crossing Border Festival in November, having our own little festival-within-a-festival with art, music, literature and poetry. It was a great opportunity to present ourselves and 'our' artists to a huge crowd. A review of the festival (in Dutch) together with some pictures can be found here.

This year will be better, I've promised myself, in every way possible. I'm not entirely sure what direction I will be taking with this blog, but I'm not done with it yet and I would like to use it to document some of the stuff I'll be working on this year, as 2010 will bring a few new projects, both Optimist-related and not.
For De Optimist 2010 will be exciting, as this will be the year in which we launch the first 'real life' issue of De Optimist: a paper issue that can be bought, held and smelled! We're more than thrilled about this.

Meanwhile, I will be starting a close reading of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged this month. I've always been intrigued by her work, but never took the time to really read her novels (mainly because...well, they're huge). My copy of The Fountainhead has been collecting dust for more than half a year, abandoned after a few dozen pages. However, when I started to watch Mad Men a few months ago (without a doubt one of the most brilliant things I've ever seen) there she was again; Ayn Rand, this time in the hands of Bert Cooper, who advises Don Draper to read Rands Atlas Shrugged since, in the end, he is "completely self-interested."
So, for the coming months, together with a friend, I will embark on a journey in Rands 1100+ page magnum opus to find out who is John Galt and why we need to know that. I might decide to blog about it if I feel like it. In the mean time, as a warming up, I will leave you with a clip from a 1959 interview with Ayn Rand on the American channel CBS, in which she explains her philosophy of Objectivism, amongst other things.

See you soon.

"I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction." (from Anthem, 1946)

A blog is a blog is a blog is a blog is......

2009-03-20T23:23:00.010+01:00

The lack of my own blogging seems to grow parallel with my interest in other people's bogs. The internet's infinity is something I only vaguely comprehend sometimes, and every few months I turn a different virtual corner to find a whole new world behind it. I started reading craft blogs a year ago (I'm a closet crafter), but they couldn't capture my interest entirely. A few months ago I discovered a whole new spectrum: fashion blogs. There are tons of people, mostly women, with an interest in fashion (sheer obsession is often a better desciption) and there's a handful of them who do a very good job blogging about it. Though I'm a voyeurist, I get bored easily by young and often not very bright girls who only master the fine art of taking pictures of themselves; I prefer the girls and women who really have something to say. Even though I personally do not dress extravagant or very fashionable (although I do try to dress more feminine lately, with the occasional skirt and high heel), I've always had a deep interest in fashion in the broadest sense of the word, as it is one of the most vivid and accessible forms of self expression. Anyway, in terms of fashion blogs, there are a few I can truly recommend. My top 3 of daily reads consists of Style Bubble, Kingdom of Style and Gnarlitude. All three very different, quite unique and of high quality. What I also really like about a lot of blogs is that they emphasize the DIY principle, which is something I can only embrace of course.
So, if you're interested, go out there and explore.....seek, and you shall find a new addiction!

Tomorrow I will be flying to Chicago, a city I've never been before. I'll be there for 3,5 days, covering the Home & Houseware show ('the world's largest homegoods & housewares marketplace') for my employer. Last summer I started working part-time for one of the worl's biggest consumer goods manufacturer; Business Analyst is my name, Competitor Intelligence is my game. Why? you might ask, since my 'about me' clearly mentiones me being an art historian and freelance writer. Let's just say a good opportunity came my way: an opportunity to make a living, learn some corporate skills underway and still balance it with a certain level of freelance writing aside.
Anway: Chicago. I'm excited; I'm scared (a mild fear of flying) and I'm hoping to have enough time to mix in a little 'pleasure' with all the 'business'. On the top of my wishlist are: a Buckminster Fuller-exhibition, an Edvard Munch-exhibition (you know, the 'Scream'-guy), seeing as much of the architecture as possible and, if there's still some time left, a bit of shopping. Windy city, here I come!

De Optimist has been up and running for 3+ months now. As happy as we are with it, it must be said that things are going a lot slower than we had hoped for. When you start a new project like this, there's 50 people saying what a good idea it is and how much they'd like to contribute; when you go online there's 30 of them left and by the time you need them to give you the goods, there's only 5 answering their e-mail :-). But fortunately, there's still more and more people applauding and supporting our initiative and giving us valuable feedback as well as some good contributions, which is great. Within a few weeks, we will link a blog to the site, so we can keep the heart beating as much as we want in between our not-so-weekly updates, and we will make a few adjustments to the format. So stay tuned!

De Optimist!

2008-12-03T13:32:00.004+01:00

Finally! De Optimist is on-line! After months of hard work, our 'digital cultural magazine' (Dutch only) has come to life. Henk and I are extremely proud, and we couldn't have done it without our wonderful graphic designers Maartje van Nimwegen and Artur Schmal, and our websitewarrior Coen Warmer.

Click on the logo, enjoy De Optimist and become one of us!

Soon is now, I guess.

2008-10-03T00:12:00.007+02:00

Right. It's becoming kind of embarrasing to post a message titled 'Coming Soon', followed by a summary of things you'll write about, and then not post anything for four months. Things came in between me and this blog: work, love, writing jobs and life in general. But let me kick off with one of the major events of the past month: the release of my travel guide about Prague!

The guide was released in the second week of September and is in bookstores right now. It's 179 pages in which I've written every single word, and all but a few pictures are by me as well.
It's almost unreal to hold a book you've created by yourself. I've worked on it for months and months, and came to a point I didn't even enjoy it anymore; I just wanted to 'get it over with'. And now it's here, and in stores, and for sale online....all the hard work has payed off. Last weekend I went to a big bookstore in the centre of Amsterdam ad there it was: a small pile of travelguides with my name on it. That was the first time I actually felt a sense of pride I hadn't felt before.

Anyone reading this and interested in buying a copy can do that through me (yes, please!). The guide is 179 pages in Dutch (!), full colour, and contains an extensive history chapter, 7 chapters about the various parts of Prague and one chapter about trips outside of the city. The guide tells about the culture and rich history of the city, and besides the obvious must-see's it also tells about interesting sites and stuff off the beaten track.
Costs are 15,90 excluding postage.
If interested, mail me at mirificare@gmail.com and make me happy!

Coming soon:

2008-05-27T22:30:00.000+02:00

...news on my new upcoming magazine called 'De Optimist', the new Union Town record, and hopefully some smart blogs on, well, just about everything. I'm incredibly busy with work and putting my life back together, but don't want to leave you entirely empty handed. So here's a little sketch of the late and great Bill Hicks (1961-1994), one of the greatest comedians to have ever walked this earth, on smokers vs. non-smokers. Enjoy!

Off duty.

2008-01-30T23:38:00.000+01:00

This blog will not be updated for the forthcoming weeks. My life is pretty shook up right now, and I've decided to 'lay low' for a while.
I hope to be back soon, with good news and fresh input. Until then: take care, everyone.

New Year's resolution: keeping it up!

2008-01-16T15:55:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year, folks. To all 7 of you readers: have a good one! I'm completely ignoring any etiquette by still wishing people a happy new year mid-January, but who cares.
January has started off pretty hectic, which has become the norm I guess. After returning from my lazy, lethargic and gluttonous Christmas break chez papa et maman I haven't been sitting still. My band Union Town has recorded an EP the past two weeks, and if it wasn't totally against the rules to say that your own record will be the best thing ever, than I would say just that. Furthermore, I have done a big chunk of work on my travel guide on Prague, which needed some alterations. The job's done, so the whole process of making the book will be set in motion now. The guide will be out around May/June, and I'm EXCITED! And if that wasn't enough, I also had an interesting freelance assignement for a Dutch magazine on Europe and 'European identities' called Perron E. Hopefully more of that will follow in the very near future.

The forthcoming weeks will be spent working on a new project I'm doing with Dutch writer Henk van Straten. We're trying to set up a new magazine in the vein of The Believer, the eclectic American magazine from McSweeney's. It's been almost three years since I resigned as an editor-in-chief of my former (university) arts magazine. I miss the whole process of making a magazine very, very much, so I really hope we'll be able to find some funds and pull this off. Fingers crossed!
Blogwise, I'm planning on writing a few pieces on some of my favourite jazz artists. I wanted to do this for a long time. Nothing fancy, just some words that may be of interest to people who like good music. In mean time I will leave you with one of my favourite tracks of the late genius Jaco Pastorius (1951-1987), one of the best and most influential bassplayers ever. Hearing (and seeing) this guy play makes me want to sell my Fender Jazz bass and cry myself to sleep. This track is called 'Portrait of Tracy'.

Nothingness...

2007-12-21T23:04:00.000+01:00

It took a 9,5 hour train ride to go from urban hectics to this...the great big nothing. This week I travalled from Amsterdam, through Paris, to Brittany; La Bretagne; Breizh. Every year I try to visit my parents at least twice, but this year -due to my stay in Prague- I missed the summer crazyness, when thousands of tourists visit France's most beautiful region and the small roads and little villages are crammed with cars, and people.
But in December, right before Christmas, there is nothing here. Nothing but complete and utter silence; empty beaches wherever you look, silent roads, deserted towns. Every day we walk the dogs on these endless stretches of sand, with no other company than the birds, the waves and the cold wind chastising our faces. Even now, after 29 years, I'm still amazed by it...everything here looks, feels and smells different than what I'm used to. It's like being on a different planet; a beautiful, savage, deserted planet.

Life on the road.

2007-11-30T12:18:00.000+01:00

It has ended again.....for now. Our short tour with Tenement Kids was great; lots and lots of fun, and a few cool shows. A few cancelled ones as well, and some freezing cold nights, but who cares? You get to drive around in a van, play your music in front of total strangers, and in the end they tell you it was great and they buy your t-shirt and maybe even a 7". What more do you want? To be continued in the summer of 2008. Next up for Union Town is the wedding party of my friend Jos 'Seein' Red' on Friday, and the already legendary Powered Records/Dead & Gone-showcase in the UK the day after.

I got home this morning at 9:30, without even half an hour of sleep, but I'm still not tired. I'm lying in my bed right now, contemplating things and feeling as free as a bird: I quit my job before I left on tour, which means that I'm now officially unemployed. What lies before me is the immense freedom -and financial insecurity- of a life as a free-lance writer. I have a shrinking bank account in sight and no real plan B yet, and still I haven't felt this sure about myself in ages. My guide will be finished soon; a very exciting project is coming up......I'm excited as a little kid about the shape of things to come. 2008 will be my year of mirificare.

It's the most wonderful time...

2007-11-12T02:31:00.001+01:00

...of the year. Fall is here: my favourite season.
I just got back from a great tour with Liars, and I leave again in two weeks for Union Town's very first European tour with Tenement Kids. In the mean time I hope to do some essential blogging, since I officially have my life back now: the guide is finished, and there is after all life after The Deadline. So stay posted for some blogs, a. o. on jazz fusion heroes Weather Report.

By the way; American hero Norman Mailer died this weekend, at the age of 84. Tragic, if you ask me...all the good American writers seem to be dying the past few years; Saul Bellow, David Halberstam, and now Mailer. If you've never read anything by Mailer, take your pick from his extensive bibliography. I can recommend Oswald's Tale: An American Mystery (1996); a detailed biography about Lee Harvey Oswald.

Time is on my side.

2007-10-08T20:50:00.002+02:00

Another month has passed..... For those of you who wondered what the hell I've been doing lately, the answer is: writing. Again. Just fresh out of my graduation, and I'm chained to my MacBook again, to finish The Guide. The Deadline is October 18th, so I have little over a week to finish my first real book. Exciting! I must honestly say that this is much more fun than my thesis ever was. I just wish I was the type of person who could actually 'work ahead', in stead of spending months starting up, and making schemes, but waiting 'til I can feel pressure breathing its steam down my neck to finish it.
The publishers design departement is now making the bookcover, 'cause they will already start to advertise by the end of this year, even though the guide won't be issued until May 2008. I asked my friend, the talented miss Isabella Rozendaal to do the portrait, and I'm actually quite happy with the picture! I think I look very adult, like a real writer. A friend of mine said it reminded him of a Hillary Clinton-portrait.....thanks dude. Anyway, visit Isabella's website, which has some really good stuff. I particularly like her pictures of dogs.

Besides the writing, I quit my job as of December, and I'm looking for something with a little more satisfaction than my current job, which is selling books. In the beginning of November I will go on tour for 10 days with Liars, around Holland, UK and Scandinavia, to sell their merch, and a few weeks later Union Town will do its first tour, together with Tenement Kids.
I'll try to be a good girl and add some new blogs in the mean time. The tragic death of jazz heroe Joe Zawinul on September 10th has inspired me to write something about Weather Report, one of my favourite bands of all time, of which Zawinul was one of the founders. Look out for that! For now, I can only add one thing:
This Thursday, the Bad Brains are playing Paradiso! And we are playing the afterparty! I haven't been this nervous in ages.

Back with a 'bang'.

2007-09-13T12:00:00.000+02:00

I'm back in Prague! There is a smile on my face ever since I walked out of the airport. Yesterday morning I flew over here, and it felt like I had only been gone for a few days instead of six weeks. At the airport I met a guy from Amsterdam who was also going to Prague for a week, and he invited me to an ice hockey match, which is something I always wanted to see, but never got a chance to since there were no matches in the summer.
So, last night we saw a slightly boring game between Slavia Praha and České Budějovice, who eventually got their ass not-so-kicked during penalty's. The stadium was only half full, but the true supporters were really going for it, despite the lame atmosphere.
Ice hockey is a great game to watch, because of the elegance of the skating and the brutalness of the fight...I enjoyed it very much.

I haven't totally figured out my love affair with this city; I never expected to become so attached to this place, and so sad when forced to go back home. And now that I'm back, I feel so happy again. I don't know if it's Prague, or if it's me; so eager to explore, to discover new places, and things different from my life in Amsterdam. Living in Prague for 10 weeks, all alone, and discovering that I am perfectly capable of creating a new life somewhere else and enjoy it too, has sparked something inside me that's still there.
Anyway, I will be here 'til Wednesday; writing, shooting some extra slides for the guide, visiting some places again and of course hanging out with my friends here. Nashledanou!

Time flies when you're too busy to have fun.

2007-09-10T01:36:00.001+02:00

No posts for over a month, and so much has happened. The most important news of the past month is that I graduated! I turned in my thesis, entitled From the bare lake to the dreary street, on August 21st and a week later it was approved. My graduation is on September 25th, and my parents are coming to Holland to witness it.
I'm an Art Historian now (yes, I like the capitals), 'though this realization hasn't fully reached me yet. I've decided to take a short year 'off' to focus on finishing the guide and trying to get some more freelance writing jobs, but I will probably want to apply for a Master in Journalism and Media next year, at the University of Amsterdam. I think it's time for me to say goodbye to Art History and concentrate on that which truly makes me happy: writing and editing. And maybe even, in the future, I will try to get into the School of Journalism of Columbia University (NYC)....
But this is all in the future. If there's one thing I've learned the past decade, it is that my life does not let itself be contrived.

I'm flying back to Prague on Wednesday, to do some final work for my guide (and, of course, enjoy the city again). I'm looking forward to it, as I have missed it more than I imagined.

A Blast from the Past.

2007-08-03T09:51:00.000+02:00

One of the best things about being home after a 3 month absence is being able to play your records again. Although I love my iPod, there are times when I crave for a piece of vinyl.

On top of this weeks playlist is the 'A Light in the Darkness' EP by NYC's Citizens Arrest. This band had a short life in the late 80's/early 90's and released aforementioned 7" EP, a full length entitled 'Colossus' and a few tracks that were on the 'Look at All the Children Now' compilation (also featuring Rorschach).
I knew this band, but didn't own any of their records. A few months ago, my good friend Jeroen was selling someone's record collection and I dropped by his house one night to see if there was anything to my hearts content. I was holding the EP, hesitating if I would add it to my purchases, until Jeroen played it for me and said "If you don't buy this, you're an idiot." And he was right. I was hooked; it has been one of my favourite 7"s since. Citizens Arrest has the 'fast and furious' sound of bands like Infest, but it's mostly the vocals of singer Daryl Kahan that do the trick for me. He sounds like a maniac, basically, but one who really knows how to sing. As Eric from the excellent Something I Learned Today-site wrote about Citizens Arrest: "Hard to believe this shit ain't Japanese."

Citizens Arrest - 'Serve and Protect'

Home, away from home.

2007-07-31T17:44:00.001+02:00

I'm back in Amsterdam. Monday morning I left Prague with tears in my eyes. It was weird to be back in Holland: the houses seemed small, the roads narrow, and all of a sudden I was able to overhear every conversation people were having...I still have to get used to hearing, and speaking, Dutch all the time.
The last week in Prague was nice and a bit awkward. My friend Bianka visited me, and we took it easy besides some sight seeing. I went into the St. Vitus kathedral at the castle again, and again I was taken away by the beauty of it. The last days I tried to suck in as much of the glory of Prague as possible, knowing I would have to get used to missing the beautiful sights, the parks, the architecture. Sunday I had a 'goodbye lunch' with my friends and my roommate Zuzana, and I wandered around in the streets, feeling sad. It's nice to be home; to sleep in my own bed, have my records and books and friends around me again. But I've fallen in love with Prague, and it's hard to let go.
I've decided to keep this blog, so I will have to think of a new title. As soon as I have my good mood back, I will start writing again.

'Braindrain'.

2007-07-18T10:56:00.000+02:00

A 2000 Kč (around 75 Euro) reward for the return of this dwarf parrot.

This week I've been thinking of something to post; something intelligent, witty or exciting. But with no result so far. My brain hasn't been working properly the past few weeks.

My Prague days are almost over. Monday the 30th of July I'll be flying back to Amsterdam, at the inhuman time of 6:40. My friend Bianka will visit me the last 5 days and fly back with me, so that's nice. I have a hard time believing I've been here for two months already, and at the same time it feels like two years. I've been so absorbed in this town; its city life, its culture, its inhabitants. As the first few weeks were more of a 'warming up'; time needed to get rooted, the past month or so has been filled with 'stuff'; new friends, new places, trips in and around town, a lot of researching, writing and photographing, moving, seeing friends and my parents. I'm satisfied, but not done yet...and I'll probably never be.
Although my manuscript now mostly consist of ideas, bits and pieces, a scrapbook that just gets bigger and bigger and a Moleskine with only a few blank pages left, I look forward to finishing the project in the remaining two months. I've read almost every guide on Prague there is to find, and often thought "I can do this, and probably even better." I'm confident I can do it, and that feels really good.
Since it's been over 30 degrees for the past week, I have no other option than to go with the flow and take it easy. The coming two weeks I will work as much as I can, and spend the rest of my time enjoying my friends and my city. I hope I will be able to squeeze out a few more intelligent, witty or exciting posts before I leave, but if not; forgive me.

Finally, I promised my parents to give them a little more honour on this blog; I think they were a bit dissapointed by the sparing post about their visit, haha. Since no thousand words could properly praise these wonderful human beings, I'll just leave you with a picture of the happy couple, taken after their extensive visit of the castle of Prague:

Nashledanou.

Strike a pose.

2007-07-14T17:27:00.000+02:00

For the fifth year in a row, the Sculpture Grande exhibition has hit the centre of Prague, featuring sculptures of 'established' artists as well as up and coming artists. The sculptures are scattered around the centre of Prague until the 30th of September.

Julian Opie, 'Imagine you are driving a blue Honda'

Jan Kadlec, 'Pig'

Cross Bones Style.

2007-07-13T13:38:00.000+02:00

I'm suffering from a little writer's block, or maybe it's more a blogger's block. I'm not sure.
Last week was spent with my parents, whom I tried to show as much of the city as possible, as well as some things outside of Prague. We visited Karlštejn, a small town south of Prague, where King Charles IV (then ruler of the entire Roman empire) had a castle built in 1348 to save his crown jewels (how decadent). We did a tour of the castle, which was in some ways quite impressive. The town itself isn't very interesting though, and so horrible touristic it makes you wanna kill everyone that's in your way. The next day we went to Kutná Hora, a town east of Prague, which has a beautiful old centre that is under the protection of UNESCO. We visited the St. Barbara Cathedral, which had some 15th century frescoe's that amazed me, and the Ossuary. The Ossuary is a small chapel in Selec, a suburb of Kutná Hora, that contains the remains of the 40.000 people who were buried in its cemetery. Since 40.000 dead people produce quite a lot of bones, in 1511 a monk started to decorate the chapel with the skulls and bones of the deceased, and nowadays the small chapel is completely filled with it. The ceiling has a huge chandelier containing every bone that can be found in the human body, and the corners house four big 'altars' of bones. While we were there, a group of Japanese metalheads were taking pictures of each other while doing the 'horns up'. I wonder how many album covers worldwide contain cheesy pictures taken at Kutná Hora.....

The Ossuary also has its own website.

A new room, with a view.

2007-07-05T23:01:00.000+02:00

This nice view belongs to the window of my new room. The past week proved to be the most hectic since my stay in Prague, starting with the arrival of Ernesto, my best friend.
Ernesto arrived last Friday around noon, and after meeting up with him, I decided to take him to my house to show him my room and have a sandwich before hitting town. Little did I know that my flatmate/'landlord' A., who had already told me I wasn't allowed to have friends sleeping over (which I found already pretty ridiculous), did not want me to have anyone over, anytime! So, Friday night I received an angry text message from him, resulting in me rushing home to discuss the situation. To make a long story short: I was not allowed to have people over without calling him first, to ask for permission. This was, to him, only natural, since it was his house, his rules and I had to obey (!) him. When I pointed out to him, so angry I had trouble keeping my voice down, that it was just insane to ask this of me, that I was allowed to have friends over since I was paying him quite a fair amount of rent for a not so big room, and that I didn't want to be treated like a child, he concluded that I did not respect him. Also, I was acting hysterical and childish. So there you go.
The weekend with Ernesto was great. We walked around a lot, had dinner, spent lots of time with my new (American) friends and before we knew it, it was Sunday night again and Ernesto had to catch a 6:40 plane back to Amsterdam. Six hours later, I went to Žižkov to look for a new room, and loved it immediately. It's two blocks down from the TV Tower, in a beautiful, but slightly deteriorated, old building. The room is huge, the ceiling doesn't seem to end and my new flatmate is the cutest Czech girl I've met so far. Monday night I packed all my stuff, cleaned the house, told A. the good news and moved out. Here's to new beginnings.

Tuesday afternoon, my parents arrived in Prague. I was very happy to see them, since it had been five months since I'd last seen them, and the past days I have showed them my city. Because it truely feels like my city now. I've been here for more than six weeks, and I'm home. I can't believe I have to go back in less than a month, and to be honest, I don't want to.

Wasting time with art, again.

2007-06-28T01:09:00.001+02:00

Tonight I went to NoD, a gallery right next door to Roxy, one of the oldest and most legendary (underground) clubs of Prague. There was supposed to be some kind of stencil art 'thing', or so I was told by an American guy I met here (one of many; I've met more Americans here in a month than I've met in the past year, bands not included). I asked Jaime, one of the nicest persons I've met here, to come with me (yes, she's American too!) and she came with another nice girl called Jessica, from......well, you guessed it by now.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a stencil in sight. The exhibition consisted of a collection of artworks from different Icelandic artists. Some of the names looked vaguely familiar, as I had visited an exhibition of Icelandic artists the last time I was in New York City, but the works bared no resemblance to anything I had seen there: mostly very complex and almost surrealist drawings and paintings. This exhibition 'Islandia' however, showed some video's and some very poor mural artworks. After a few hours two girls started to do some performance that included laptops, huge wigs with flowers and a lot of screaming through a mega-phone. By then it was time to get the hell out of there, and so we left and ended the night in Duende, my favourite bar in Prague.

There was one work of art at the exhibition that was, well let's just call it 'pretty interesting'. It took me a few seconds to figure out what it was exactly.

The stills were next to a video on a loop. I forgot to write down the name of the artist or the title of the artwork, so I'll just call it 'Talking Penis'.

It's too bad that there's no sound, otherwise you could've heard the penis talking loudly in Icelandic.

By the way, there was a Danish girl also taking pictures at the gallery. I was intrigued by her camera, since it looked like an old fashioned Leica, but a very well preserved one. I asked her about it and she showed me the most beautiful digital camera I have ever seen: the Leica Digilux 2. It's digital, so it has a big screen on the back, but it looks just like a nice old Leica. Now I am probably the last person on earth to stop shooting analogue; I love films, I love the darkroom, I love all the 'hassle' that comes with it. But this was something special.
I probably can't afford it, but I want that camera!

Dangling Man.

2007-06-25T19:19:00.000+02:00

'Viselec' ('Hanging out'), sculpture by David Černý, located above Husova.

I prefer to shut up today.

2007-06-24T19:21:00.000+02:00

Not in the mood for writing, so I'll just leave you with a few pictures, taken the past few days.

Staroměstské náměstí (Old Town Square). A square in the middle of the Old Town of Prague. It is usually packed with tourists, who are closely watching the Orloj (Astronomical Clock). I was there on Thursday morning at 6 am, and it was almost completely deserted.....

Yesterday, I walked there again, noticing the beautiful facades at the buildings surrounding the square again (and the fiercely blue/grey sky). How I'm gonna miss this kind of architectural beauty...

The TV Tower however, is another story. Located in Žižkov, an area that used to be very rough and working class, it's one of the ugliest buildings I've ever seen. It stands on a plateau in the middle of a residential area, and can be seen from almost everywhere in town. It's 216 metres high. In 2001, sculptures of babies by Czech artist David Černý were attached to it.

One year ago today....

2007-06-21T20:01:00.001+02:00

? September 1996 - 21 June 2006

Dixie, the most wonderful (and photogenic) rabbit in the whole wide world, died one year ago.

Wasting time with art.

2007-06-21T19:25:00.001+02:00

Yesterday I visited some galleries. Since the guide I’m writing is mainly focused on history and culture, I am supposed to ‘know’ about the cultural climate and the (contemporary) art scene in Prague, and visiting galleries is always a good way of getting a taste. Unfortunately, as I already wrote two weeks ago, I have become completely jaded when it comes to modern art. So when I saw that one of the galleries I wanted to visit hosted an exhibition entitled Don’t waste time with art, that sounded promising! The artist, an Austrian ‘media mannerist’ (whatever that may be) named Markus Huemer, didn’t ring any bells, but I was definitely up for some self-mockery.
Unfortunately, the gallery-space itself was more interesting than the exhibition. Huemer does a good job at painting a few bird-like figures on huge, empty stretches of canvas though. It was pretty nice, aesthetic, and sometimes even beautiful. But boring.
One part of the gallery was closed off by a heavy black curtain; a sign next to it warned the visitors only to go in one by one. There was no one there, so I went in and entered a large room, completely dark apart from the bright and sharp light coming from a beamer. In the opposite corner of the space, around 50 small birds huddled together on a wooden branch attached to the walls. It was hot and muggy inside, and the birds seemed scared. On the floor were big bowls filled with water and birdseed, and bird droppings all over. I wondered what the fuck this was supposed to be.
I stood there for a few minutes, observing the birds and taking a few pictures (without flash of course). Nothing happened: there was no sound, no visuals. Just those poor animals caught in a beam of white light, for art’s sake. The brochure accompanying the exhibition contained an interview with the artist, who explained that it was entitled Action Painting: “A conic ray of white light illumines the floor of the black box with hundred alive birds [I guess half of them had died by the time the exhibition was reaching its end] and creates an interesting image on it. Flying birds and their silhouettes affect the spread of light in the box and thus the whole impression from the installation. The birds’ droppings on the floor create haphazard patterns reminding Pollock’s drip paintings.”
Yeah, whatever! I may not be the biggest Jackson Pollock-fan in the world, but this comparison is simply ridiculous. I have seen some of Pollocks works up close in New York in 2005, and I when I entered that 'Pollock room' in the MoMa, I was seriously moved by those huge paintings, bearing an impact still so violent after all those years. Pollocks work is agressive, desperate at times; with an urgency you hardly ever seem to find in contemporary art, since a lot of artist nowadays seem more concerned with being ironic and 'aesthetically sculpting their concept' than just spilling their guts for once.
If Hueller really knows Pollock so well, I'm very suprised that he dares to compare himself to him. To lock a hundred birds in a black box for six weeks and let them eat, drink, fly and shit in the dark, and call that 'Action Painting' is not only pathetic; it's pretty disgusting too.

"I play guitar for my car but I won't get very far..."

2007-06-17T21:02:00.000+02:00

Today I was at Levné Knihy again, and I picked up Rise Above, the benefit cd (for the West Memphis Three) containing 24 Black Flag covers by various artists. There are some really good covers on this album, one of my favourites being ‘I’ve had it’ by The Mars Volta singer Cedric Zavala. I love the way he sings it.

(Thanks to my friend Erik, I know how to upload mp3's now! Visit his blog Electric Voodoo for more good music.)

All quiet on the Eastern front.

2007-06-17T20:43:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I visited Terezín together with Jetske, a girl I know from Amsterdam, and her friend Gaspar. Terezín is a small fortress town, 50 km north of Prague. It was built in 1780, when Prague was part of the Austrian-Hungarian empire (then referred to as ‘Theresienstadt’) and used in the battle against the invading Prussians.
Already during the First World War was the ‘small fort’ of Terezín used as a prison. When the Nazi’s occupied the town in 1940 (and started calling it ‘Theresienstadt’ again) they built a concentration/transit camp for Jews and political prisoners, and used the small fort as a prison again. Most of the 140.000 people that passed through Terezín were eventually send to Auschwitz.
In 1943, 500 Jews from Denmark were send to the camp in Terezín, after which the Red Cross demanded to visit the camp in order to make sure they were safe there. The Nazi’s came up with a clever plan to trick the Red Cross representatives by building a temporary ‘model camp’. First, a lot of people where quickly shipped off to Auschwitz to hide the fact that the camp was overpopulated. Then, fake shops and bars were opened, and the prisoners were given regular clothing to wear. The whole camp was supposed to look like a nice and peaceful 'temporary home'. The Red Cross visited the camp and saw seemingly content people in spacious rooms, concluding that the transit camp was ‘acceptable and safe’. The Nazi’s, content with their successful scam, decided to make a short film about Theresienstadt (entitled Theresienstadt: Ein Dokumentarfilm aus dem jüdischen Siedlungsgebiet with the addition Der Führer schenkt den Juden eine Stadt – ‘the Führer gives a city to the Jews’), to pretend they weren’t as brutal as everyone thought. The actors and crew were all prisoners: forced to cooperate, and killed or transported immediately after the project was finished. The film itself was not widely distributed through the Red Cross, as it was intended, but found in the camp after the liberation in May 1945.

The weather was beautiful yesterday, with a fierce sun and a clear blue sky. When we arrived at the small fortress, there were hardly any visitors. We received a detailed map upon entrance and walked across the whole fortress, entering all the rooms and prison cells, and walking through the 500 m long (!) tunnel that was small enough to make you claustrophobic for the rest of your life.
It was very weird to visit a place with such a horrible past. You know that every room you enter was once filled with people who lived under terrible conditions and were uncertain of their lives, their future. The rooms and prisons were scarcely furnished with what I assume were the original beds and tables, and every space had a sinister atmosphere. And yet, every single room that had a window was occupied by swallows: up high, against the ceilings, were nests filled with little birds screaming for food. Countless swallows flied in and out of the rooms and across the territory.

After three hours of walking and visiting the detailed exhibitions that are scattered around the area, providing a lot of information on the camp, we were desperate for some food and drinks. We left the fortress and headed into the deserted town, and after dinner we waited for hours for a bus that didn’t come and eventually hitchhiked back to Prague.

I am still impressed by the visit, as I was the first time in 1995. I’ve always been extremely interested in World War II, mainly because of the stories my Dutch grandparents, who witnessed it from up close, told me when I was a kid. To walk around in a place that was once used as a concentration camp is fascinating and repulsive at the same time, and it made me wonder if it was in fact the right thing to do. Is it important to make a place like that public, to allow people to walk in, take pictures, touch the doors and beds and tables? Or is it disgusting? Should a place like that be preserved, like it is now, or destroyed? I stood in a huge, empty shower room, used more than sixty years ago to ‘delouse’ people that would be dead in less than five years; watching birds feed their young while other ‘catastrophe-tourists’ came in to take pictures…and I was completely confused.
At the end of the visit we watched a short documentary that contained excerpts of the propaganda-movie about Terezín. You saw a football match between two groups of prisoners, and scenes of ‘happy, healthy’ women talking, sitting on the same beds we had just seen. Different voice-overs, in different languages, kept repeating that “everything is fine in Theresienstadt, I’m not lacking anything at all.”

Mes meilleurs voeux!

2007-06-15T18:59:00.000+02:00

Today is my mom's birthday, and I'm not there to celebrate it with her, unfortunately. Chère maman, bon anniversaire!

No big updates. Today, I went to the Museum of Decorative Arts (chock full of glass, ceramics, ornaments etc., it sounds more boring than it actually was), where there was 'A Beastly Show': a selection of animal-inspired work from two Czech artists. It seemed childish but turned out to be pretty cool, with works ranging from photographs and lino-cuts of animals to lobsters and fish made out of plastic bottles (which were quite impressive). One of the artists, Michal Cihlář, makes nice lino-cuts and does all the 'merch' and advertisement for the Praha Zoo. There were two walls filled with his images of animals.

Tomorrow I'll try to go and visit Terezín (also known as Theresienstadt), a town not far from Prague where the Nazi's built a concentration camp in 1941 (or a transit camp actually, since most of the people where eventually send to Auschwitz).

“I dig, you dig, the worm digs too.”

2007-06-10T12:53:00.000+02:00

No updates in a week; that probably says enough about the past days. I feel like haven’t really done anything significant enough to post about.
My biological clock was running it own course this week. I’m afraid I only have myself to blame for this: last weekend, the weather was bad and I decided to be wise, stay at home, work and don’t spend any money. The staying at home-part went good, but in stead of only working, I spend a big part of my weekend watching the whole first season of ‘Lost’ online. When it was on TV in Holland, I only captured a few chunks here and there; and once I started watching it again, I was completely hooked. I watched three nights in a row, falling asleep at 6 a.m. in the morning.

Tuesday, George ‘Dubya’ Bush was visiting Prague, promoting his plans for Cold War – The Sequel. For those of you who do not know: the US wants to build a missile shield in Central Europe, to protect us (but mainly themselves) from possible attacks from the Axis of Evil. One part of the shield would be located in Trokavec, a Czech hamlet (97 inhabitants!) not far from Prague. The other part will be located in Poland. There were two days of demonstrations in Prague, although things didn’t really get out of hand. I didn’t attend any of them; I didn’t feel like it (or maybe I’m just lame). But I did walk up to the park not far from the Prague Castle that Bush was visiting that day, to see what security measurements the Czech government had taken. What I saw were rows and rows of small fences, low enough to jump over it. Where the fences closed off streets, groups of bored policemen were gathered; talking, eating and leaning. But the park around the Castle was largely deserted. The fences just stood there, with no policemen in sights, ready to be jumped over by whomever felt like it. I think the Czech have a thing or two to learn about Homeland Security…..

One of the highlights of my week was stumbling upon a beautiful woodcut by a Czech artist from North Moravia called Ferdiš Duša (1888-1958). It shows a young deer looking up, in quite a weird posture. When I showed it to my roommates their first question was "Why is its neck broken?". Whatever. I love it.
The picture is not very clear, unfortunately. It doesn't show how beautiful the cut is: smooth and delicate lines on the body, it's like you can almost feel the fur. The outline is thick. The woodcut is from 1941. I haven't found any information on the internet about it, although there is some info to be found on Duša, but mainly in Czech.

Wednesday, in the afternoon, I went to some sort of panel discussion in the Municipal Library. It was the last day of the 17th Prague Writers Festival, and since this year’s theme was ‘Dadaïsm’, I was curious about the program, which was built around the question "Where has Czech Dada gone, if it ever existed?" Since I have been to lectures and panel discussions like these numerous times, I knew that I would not leave the building with anything that would even remotely seem like an answer to that question.
I sat in a hall with around 50 people scattered, some of them old enough to have known Tristan Tzara (the Romanian poet who founded Dadaïsm) in person. On the stage were a bunch of equally old men, writers and literature professors, and one surprisingly young guy who turned out to be a curator from Zurich. The discussion was in Czech, but headphones were handed out, which allowed you to hear a very British woman’s desperate attempts to translate the mumbling going on onstage. It made me feel like I was at a UN convention.
After twenty minutes, the man next to me fell asleep, and on my other side a couple was making out, so I had no real chance of escaping. I tried to stay focused and actually learn something. After nearly an hour, one of the old guys (Ludvik Kundera, cousin of the famous Czech author Milan Kundera) decided to recite some poems of a poet who may or may not have been on of the few Czech dadaïsts. This spontaneous act of him was of course very ‘dada’, but since the translators were not prepared, they apologized through the headphones and I was forced to listen to nearly fifteen minutes of Dadaïst poetry in a language that barely makes sense to me in writing, let alone in speech.

During all this, I was wondering how it is possible that I have spent the past six years studying art and its history and theories, and although I’m always interested in stuff like this, it doesn’t seem to really capture me nowadays. I always like to give it a try, but while I’m at it, it hardly ever grabs me by the throat anymore.
I’ll be the last person to say “It’s just art”, because I truly believe that art plays a crucial, albeit often underexposed, role in society. Personally, I’m most interested in art that reflects (or has reflected) social structures; I’m attracted to art that springs from conflict, from war, from life changing events. And I'm particularly interested in the avant garde movements dating from the beginning of the 20th century: Expressionism, Futurism, Dadaïsm, Surrealism. These movements came into existence in a time when Western society was undergoing very drastic changes, and that is clearly reflected in almost everything. Besides that, these movements changed the course of art and the way art was looked upon permanently. All the more reason to be curious about what a group of so-called 'experts' had to say about the influence of Dadaïsm on Czech art and society...
But that afternoon, I was just plain bored. And I looked around wondering if anyone really gave a shit. In fifteen minutes, it would all be over, everyone would be outside again, in the sun, and 90% of the things said in that hall would be totally forgotten.

The motto of the festival was 'I dig, you dig, the worm digs too', taken from the poem Es war Erde in ihnen ('There was earth inside them') by Paul Celan, who spend some time in Romania writing surrealist poetry. Hermeneutics isn't my specialty, so I'll spare you my interpretations of it.

The Czech emperor has a whole new wardrobe.

2007-05-31T23:33:00.000+02:00

Wednesday evening I went to see Severed Head of State play a pretty good show at Klub 007, a legendary venue in Prague, situated in one of the campus-buildings up the hills. It was a chance for me to meet up with some nice people as well, Nuno and Jenny, who introduced me to some other people.
After the show we descended the Petřín hill to get to the tram stop, and the view of Prague at night was breathtaking. Of course, at moments like that I never have my camera with me. Today I went back up, and although it’s slightly less spectacular by day, it was nonetheless a nice (and sometimes extremely steep) walk.

On top of the hill is the Petřín observation tower, which looks like a miniature Eiffel Tower. Inside the tower, in the basement next to the toilets (what an ungrateful location) you can find the museum dedicated to Jará Cimrman, one of the most famous Czech people of all time.
Jará Cimrman, a playwright and inventor, was born either in 1850, 1869 or 1874 in Vienna and died in Prague in 1914. He is held (nearly) responsible for some great discoveries and was involved in a lot of important events at the turn of the 19th century. He helped Thomas Edison work on the light bulb; proposed the Panama canal to the U.S. government; taught the theory of relativity to Albert Einstein (and was never given credits for it) and advised Gustave Eiffel on the construction of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The Cimrman-museum is full of pictures, personal stuff and prototypes of his inventions, such as the ‘fire-fighting bike’.

It may seem clear by now that Jará Cimrman is not real. His character was made up in the 1960’s by a few Czech actors and was first brought up in a popular radio show called Nealkoholická vinárna U Pavouka (‘Spider's Non-alcoholic Wineroom’; I haven’t figured out this bizar name yet).
But this is not just some old, dusty practical joke: Jará Cimrman is still very popular in the Czech Republic. He doesn’t only have a museum devoted to him; there is also a Jará Cimrman Theatre in Prague that only shows plays he supposedly has written, and when a Czech television network decided to organise a contest for ‘The Greatest Czech’ a few years ago, Jará Cimrman was the designated winner, had he not been disqualified.
I was surprised by the thoroughness of the whole 'joke'; one quick glance at the museum itself is enough to understand how important this myth was and still is to the Czech. I think the explanation behind the whole fictionalization of this ‘should be hero’ (a slogan at the entrance of the museum reads “Genius, who has not become famous.”) could lie in the Czech sense of humour, which seems to be very sarcastic, and fifty years of Communism. In the Communist era, the emphasis was on bringing out all the good the (Czechoslovakian) culture had brought forth, so when someone came up with this undiscovered failed hero who was also a playwright, the government allowed his plays to be performed. And for what I know, they were (of course) full of sarcastic comments; on the Communist government itself, Czech culture and basically everything else one could comment on. A very creative concept, which obviously hasn’t outdated yet.

Typically, the only ‘image’ of Cimrman that can be found is this bust, that was of course destroyed. There are no pictures of him; the greatest Czech alive remains anonymous, despite his incredible life-story.

On a different note: a lot of people have asked me how I'm doing so far. To be honest, I have some difficulties answering this question. I'm doing well of course: I'm in a great city, I walk around a lot, discover new things every day, write, drink coffee, eat good food, buy some books or music. But I don't always realise that I am actually here, now: living here and working here, alone. Going to a show the other night and talking to some likeminded people made me very aware of the fact that I am 1500 km away from everyone and everything that is so incredibly dear to me: my friends, my parents (who live even further away, in France), my band, my house (oh, how I already miss living alone and doing whatever I want, without roommates looking over my shoulder!), Amsterdam. My life. It's like my existence has been put on hold and I am taking a 10 week time-out. Which is good, of course, and I think I really needed it right now. But it can be very hard nontheless. I find myself wondering if my friends will forget me during my absence; if my bandmembers will simply recrute another bassplayer; if my house will burn down.... I wonder if my life would cease to exist and in 10 weeks, I'd discover I have nothing to come back to. I know (well, I assume) this is nonsense, but the thought never really leaves my mind.

So: I'm doing pretty good. I'm having fun, I'm relaxed, I feel inspired and I feel good about the way I'm handling myself here. But for an insecure control-freak like me, it's a tough job.

Good night.

Let's dance.

2007-05-29T22:05:00.000+02:00

Although Prague is famous for it’s classical Barok and Jugendstil architecture, and there are some breathtaking buildings to be found here, one of my favourite buildings in town is a modern one (or even a ‘post modern’ one, oh that dreadful P-word!). It’s the Dancing Building (Tančicí dům), often referred to as 'Fred and Ginger'. It was designed as a collaboration between two architects: the Czech Vlado Miluniç and the American Frank Gehry (one of my favourite architects of all time, who designed the beautiful Guggenheim museum in Bilbao, Spain).

Fred and Ginger have been dancing on the bank of the Vltava river since 1996. As you can see, there is a dent in the glass façade on the left side; apparently, this was done so that one of the neighbours would not lose his view on the Prague Castle, which is on the other side of the river. I don’t know if this is true, but it sounds pretty good, and ever since I saw Gehry design his buildings (in the documentary Sketches of Frank Gehry), which basically comes down to folding strips of silver coloured paper and attaching them with paperclips, it wouldn’t surprise me if this is indeed true.

(A thorough and slightly pretentious essay on Tančicí dům , written by an art historian who did know what he was talking about, appeared in the German art mag Kunst & Kultur in 1997 and can be read here.)

The right to rock 'n roll.

2007-05-28T23:48:00.000+02:00

Today, some fierce rain showers finally interrupted the hot and humid weather. During one of those downpours I jumped into a Levné Knihy (‘cheap books’), a store of which the name says all. The tiny shop was crammed with books, cd’s and children’s toys; all dirt cheap, especially to Western European standards. After carefully choosing a plastic watch decorated with an image of Paul Gauguin’s ‘Femmes de Tahiti’ (1891), I stumbled upon some cd’s of the legendary Czech rockband Plastic People of the Universe, of which I bought two: ‘Co znamená vésti konê’ (‘Leading Horses’, 1981) and ‘Kolejnice duní’ (‘Rails rumble’, 1977-82).

The Plastic People of the Universe, which was formed in the historical year of 1968, was around for over 30 years, its history closely linked to the Czechoslovakian Communist years.
The ‘Prague Spring’ of 1968 began when Alexander Dubcek replaced Communist leader Antonin Novotny on January 5th. Novotny, a hard-line Communist, was fiercely opposed against any form of Western influence and had successfully ‘purified’ its government. Prague officials hoped that Dubcek would be a more humane leader, but his reform program proved to be too progressive for the Kremlin. The Prague Spring was put to and end in August of 1968, when Soviet tanks and soldiers invaded Czechoslovakia and headed for Prague. After three days of resistance from the people, it was all over. Czechoslovakia would live under a strict Communist regime for the forthcoming decades.
A month after the invasion, Plastic People of the Universe was formed, initially covering songs of bands like the Velvet Underground, the Doors and the Mothers of Invention. After a while, they started to write their own songs as well. Their concerts were happenings in the best 60’s tradition, complete with costumes and psychedelic light shows. During their 30-year existence, the PPU knew nothing but hard times. They were prohibited by law; their recordings, on cassette tapes, had to be smuggled out of the country to be released as records in Western Europe; the Secret Police often broke up their concerts, beating and arresting the visitors, and eventually two of the musicians (together with two other musicians from another band called DG 307) were sentenced to jail, charged with ‘organized disturbance of peace’.
Vaclav Havel, the playwright who would later on become the leader of the 1989 Velvet Revolution and the first democratic President of Czechoslovakia, took the PPU under his wing in 1977, allowing them to practice in his house in the countryside. The PPU also played shows there, while the entire place was circled by police. The band would record a few more records in the 1980’s, which were all released in other countries. PPU broke up in 1988 over a dispute, and some members continued in a band called Pulnoc (‘Midnight’). The Plastic People themselves reunited in 1993, in celebration of the reunion show of the Velvet Underground, their greatest influence so far.

A more detailed history of the Plastic People of the Universe can be read here. I had only vaguely heard of this band before, but after reading the complete story, I was baffled. For a group of people to believe so strongly in their music, to endure decades of censorship and oppression in order to play and record their songs, that is simply amazing. The Czech themselves are convinced that the existence of this band has had a huge impact on the country’s history, and that the two are strongly interwined.

(As soon as I have a solid internet connection in my room I’ll try to upload some mp3’s of the Plastic People of the Universe, and attempt to translate some of their lyrics.)

Nemluvím česki....

2007-05-24T21:09:00.000+02:00

Today is the second official day of my stay in Prague, and unfortunately I don’t have any interesting thoughts to share with you yet, or any adventures to tell. So today, I’ll be brief.
I arrived Tuesday morning, dressed for Dutch weather, exhausted after only four hours of sleep and nervous as hell. My roommate/’landlord’ A. picked me up from the airport, which was very sweet of him. We drove through some lovely Bohemian villages towards Prague, and it was hot as hell outside. Finally ‘home’, I met my other roommate E., who had just woken up. A. left for work, E. let me unpack quietly and I found myself all alone in my room, wondering what the hell I was doing here. My first night was restless; I dreamt of people walking in and out of my room, and in the morning I was completely disorientated.
The past three days were spend walking around, getting to know ‘my’ neighbourhood. I live on the outskirts of Prague, and though the centre is not far, it’s far enough to feel like I am really in a Czech city, and not in tourist-hell. Because the tourists are here, and they come in numbers. It seems that the single tourist has died a sudden and silent death, since it’s merely groups that flush the centre of Prague; German, Japanese, British and French tourists wearing similar hats or flags, following group leaders as if their lives depend on it. It’s fascinating and repulsive at the same time.
‘My’ neighbourhood, however, is still dominated by Czech people. And they hardly speak English, which is an even bigger encouragement for me to learn Czech as soon as possible. With my dictionary in one hand and the biggest smile on my face I have managed to order coffee, ask for a specific type of sun cream, buy groceries and envelopes and, the biggest hassle so far, buy a month-pass for public transport, for which I needed to fill in a form that was entirely set up in that crazy language that doesn’t make any sense to me yet. It’s a slow process, but there is progress.

I hope that within a week, I’ll wake up in the morning knowing exactly where I am and what I’m doing here. For now, I just give myself time to get used to everything, try to feel at home and miss my loved ones like crazy. Nashledanou.

He can only rock.....but does a damn good job at it.

2007-05-17T18:12:00.000+02:00

“As far as getting back together I never thought it would happen in a million years, but Touch & Go got a hold of me and asked if NA would do it. O.P. and I decided to do it. I did contact Rob (McCullough-ed.) about doing it, but after talking on the phone a few times I knew it wouldn’t work with him. So we got Ron Sakowski, and Harold Richardson, from Easy Action. I knew I could only do it with people I trusted; who could pull it off.”

Like I said three weeks ago, I did an interview with John Brannon for RE/fuse fanzine. Quoted above is an excerpt of that interview, of when I asked him what made him decide to revive Negative Approach after more than twenty years.

So, last weekend, only five months after the UK-shows, we went to see Negative Approach perform again. This time it didn’t take us a very scary crossing with a ferryboat in the middle of a December storm, and hours and hours of driving to the southwest of England. In a mere two hours from Amsterdam we were in Antwerp, where almost a thousand people had gathered from Belgium, Holland and beyond. It was very nice to see a lot of familiar faces again, some people I hadn’t seen in years.
There were several bands playing that night, of which I have only seen a few. Discharge stood out the most, because they were so horribly bad. And then, at around eleven, the moment had come. The band came on stage, Brannon took the mic and the second they started playing ‘Can’t Tell No One’, hell broke loose. For half an hour, it was complete mayhem. Hundreds of punks and hardcore kids were dancing, stage diving and just going completely nuts. A friend of mine actually broke his leg, and I saw someone jumping off a speaker and not getting up anymore. The band just carried on playing, clearly enjoying the amazing crowd reaction. When it was over I felt sweaty, bruised and extremely happy.
I actually had the chance to meet John Brannon that night before they were on. I felt shy and stupid going up to him and introducing myself, but he was very cool. We talked shortly, he signed my NA silkscreen poster (I felt like a total retard for asking) and told me they were going to play a last minute-set on Sunday at the Lintfabriek. Needless to say, the next day we headed for Belgium again. To my surprise, there were only about a hundred kids there. NA played a short set: Brannon let the crowd call out for requests. The atmosphere was much less aggressive, but nonetheless great. It felt like a private little party. Afterwards, I had a long talk with Brannon about their reunion shows, Easy Action and music in general. He was very sympathetic and most of all completely ‘normal’ and modest. He gave me some cd’s, we had the picture taken and said our goodbyes.
At a certain moment, my friends and I all looked at each other, started laughing and said: “This is too absurd. In ten years, we’ll all call each other to find out if it really did happen.”

“I made my first record with NA when I was 19, and never looked back. I know I’ll always be singing in a band. Rock ‘N’ Roll doesn’t always pay the bills. But I’ve given myself to this and there’s no turning back. I’ll be singing 'til I die, and I don’t see myself giving up anytime soon. I’m glad I still have a chance to do this. And I will be doing this by any means necessary. I’m always rehearsing or touring with Easy Action and now that these NA shows have come up I’m busy as fuck.
Bottom line: I weight it out, split the difference and I know I’m still fucked. I can only rock.”

(RE/fuse fanzine featuring the interview with Brannon and a whole lot more, will be available by the end of June: refuse_fanzine@hotmail.com)

"It never used to be like this before..."

2007-05-14T19:04:00.000+02:00

I don't have time to write about the past weekend right now, but I will do it sometime this week. For now, I just wanna leave you with this:
This picture was taken yesterday evening, and it shows me and my good friend Erik, posing with John Brannon after a last minute Negative Approach-set at the legendary Lintfabriek in Kontich (Belgium). It was a night to remember. (Laura, thank you for the picture!)

To be continued.

Apocalypse now.

2007-05-07T17:49:00.000+02:00

Since my days are now entirely dominated by my thesis on German Expressionism, I'd like to share with you (all five of you readers) one of my favourite paintings of all time: Metropolis by Georg Grosz (1917). (Please click on the image to see a bigger and better version.)
To me, Grosz has succeeded in capturing the insane and overwhelming city-life of Berlin during World War I. Chaos and energy seem to splash from the canvas. Notice how the people are portrayed in a complete anonymous fashion; no recognizable features, barely visible faces. They seem just as square as the fronts of the buildings they pass. The entire painting is drenched in a bloody red, which gives it a kind of urgency. Georg Grosz (1893-1959) saw himself as a 'political artist', who wanted to exclude every subjectivity from his work. He was one of the few German artists who was opposed to the war from the very beginning, fearing it to be a complete catastrophy for mankind.

"Le Président de tous les Français."

2007-05-07T00:44:00.000+02:00

'Together, everything becomes possible'. Well, I'm looking forward to seeing that.

Oh, and one other thing: it's officially 5 to midnight again, at least according to the Doomsday Clock. We haven't been this close to total catastrophy since 1984, according to the scientists who are behind the Bulletin Of Atomic Scientists: "The world stands at the brink of a second nuclear age." An interesting time-line of the Doomsday Clock from 1947 up 'til now, and more Global Security News can be found here.

Good night!

Aux armes citoyens!

2007-05-05T15:19:00.000+02:00

This weekend is not your average weekend. Today, May 5th, is 'Bevrijdingsdag'; the 62nd 'birthday' of the liberation of Holland from German occupation. I wanted to write someting about war not being what it used to be, but I don't feel like it right now.
Tomorrow, May 6th, is the 5th 'birthday' of the murder of Dutch politician Pim Fortuyn. This self-proclaimed political dandy captured the hearts (and votes) of many Dutch citizens five years ago with his philosophy of "zeggen wat je denkt; doen wat je zegt" (best translated as 'saying what's on your mind, and acting on it'). His formula's main ingredients were popular xenophobia, an aggressive stand towards muslims and the rejection of basically everything the Dutch governement had produced in the previous eight years. He collected a bunch of corrupt and incompetent men to form a party with, and seemed destined to become the next prime minister of Holland. But nine days before the elections, he was murdered in broad daylight. Unfortunately, his range of ideas was not buried with him, and ever since 'Pimmetje', xenophobia and anti-muslim behaviour seem to have become a new Dutch treat.

But I didn't want to write about this today. I want to write about something much more important: the second and final round of Presidential elections in France, tomorrow. Whatever the outcome, it will be a day to remember. For the first time in the history of the Fifth Republic, a woman, Ségolène Royal, has a shot at becoming Président de la République, although the polls predict that it will probably be her opponent Nicolas Sarkozy who will win. Unfortunately, I must add.
Royal, representing the left-wing Parti Socialiste, is a modern woman. She may not be the best speecher in the world, but she is a very good debater, and has a few very healthy opinions about France's future. Royal believes that first and foremost, France needs to win back some confidence. The French must find back their moral. Her focus is on social reformation, education, the closing of the gap between rich and poor. All topics that are soothing to the ear, but not to the purse.
Sarkozy, representing the right-wing UMP, is cut from a different cloth. He focuses on a strong state, with (liberal) reforms on economical levels, and a pretty harsh Immigration policy. What worries me most about 'Sarko' is the way he seems to divide France into 'right' and 'wrong'. This kind of polarization is dangerous for any country, and no less for France.
In 2005 riots broke out in Parisian banlieues (impoverished outskirts), after two boys where electrocuted while hiding from the police. For weeks, young kids, mostly of Algerian and Moroccan descent, clashed with the police, thrashed buildings and set fire to cars. Sarkozy, who was still Minister of Interior, spoke about the rioters as 'racaille' (scum) he would remove from the streets with his Kärcher. It was a line that would make him (in)famous, and demonstrated very well his attitude. 'Sarko' does not believe in a soft approach, not for anything.

*'It works really well, my new Kärcher!'

To be continued tomorrow, quand le jour J sera commencé!

Scribo ergo sum?

2007-05-03T02:26:00.000+02:00

Lying awake tonight, I realized I cannot recall the last time I wrote. I don't mean the writing I have been doing the past months on my thesis, or the writing for the zine; when you force your fingers upon the keys of your keyboard, trying to make sense of it all, trying to create something that is 'original', something intelligent. Something new.
What I mean is the writing that is uninhibited, when you press the dry pencil against the paper and let your hand find its way; without prejudice from the mind, without interference.
I don't think I have ever asked myself why I write, or why I want to write. I don't consider myself a writer, and yet I want to become one. Writing is want I want to do; it is what I am doing right now, as I try to finish my thesis in order to obtain my degree in Art History; and it is what I will be doing in three weeks, when I go to Prague to make a travel guide. And it is what I want to do in the future, more than anything else. But while aiming for the creative writing, the process of conceptualizing something that is 'original', something intelligent, something new, I forget the importance of the unrestrained writing; the dry pencil against the paper.

The past few weeks, I can't seem to forget something I read in an interview with Saul Bellow (1915-2005), the much appraised American writer who won the Nobel prize in 1976 for his novel Humboldt's Gift. In the interview Bellow talks about his deep interest in anthroposophy, and the influence this has had on his writing. At a certain moment, the interviewer describes how Bellow comes walking back into the room after making tea, and stands still to exchange a long look with his visitor, in silence. Bellow then says: "If two people stand facing each other, they see each others physical bodies. That is important. That is real. If a writer treats the physical things as insignificant, and ignores what his eyes see and his ears hear, than nothing that he writes can be of any importance."
These words have struck me, and I have read those lines again and again. To me, they are true. If one does not acknowledge the most basic things around and inside him, than anything beyond that; anything that is supposed to be original, intelligent, or new, is worthless.

Maybe my obsession with this specific phrase means that I should first acknowledge the physical reality around and inside myself, before I try to create anything beyond that. I must first pick up the pencil and press it against the paper, before I do anything else.

Good night.

"You try to make things work, and gain something..."

2007-05-01T22:37:00.000+02:00

Three weeks left before I leave for Prague, and I'm already adding my third premature post. Oh well, fuck it.

Right now I'm finishing an interview I did with Negative Approach singer John Brannon, for RE/fuse, the Dutch hardcore zine I write for. It was the first time I had to do an interview with someone by e-mail, instead of talking face to face. It was tricky, to say the least, but in the end it turned out to be cool. Maybe I'll post it here in the near future.
To get in the right mood during the writing, I've been listening to 'Ready to Fight', a compilation issued in 2005 by Reptilian Records, including the 1981 demo and a few live recordings. The music is still amazing; sheer energy and aggression. John Brannons singing is stunning. Thinking back at the two reunion shows NA played in December, in the UK, I remember being amazed by Brannons voice: it sounded exactly like on the records.
I can't wait to see them perform again in Antwerp, in two weeks.

Check this page from the Kill From The Heart-website for more info and interviews.

The best, the brightest (1934-2007).

2007-04-28T01:41:00.000+02:00

This past Monday, American writer/journalist David Halberstam died in a car accident.

Halberstam (who won the Pulitzer price when he was only thirty years old) was one of the best known American reporters around, a legend who had made name for himself during the 1960's, when reporting on the Vietnam war. He wrote nearly twenty books, mostly on American (foreign) politics, but also on baseball and American football, the civil rights movement in the American south, and the American media.
His best known work, The Best and the Brightest (1972), was meant to be a settlement with the disastrous Vietnam era and the American politicians who were responsible for it. Halberstam was the David who beat the Goliaths with this book, but was never forgiven for it. Luckily, he didn't care and continued to write.

Three years ago, while I was in Strand Bookstore in New York City, I bought a paperback copy of his War in a Time of Peace (2001), about American (foreign) politics under Bush sr. and Clinton. I must honestly admit I still haven't finished it, but one can only deeply admire Halberstams way of writing; so thorough and all-embracing, without ever losing the overall picture. Like one critic wrote in a review: a book that most journalists would give their right arm to have written, and I think this applies for his entire oeuvre. If only David Halberstam had written a sequel to War in a Time of Peace, exposing the politicians who form the current Bush administration: he could have crushed them with his paper stone.

Pleasurable anticipation.

2007-04-21T00:37:00.000+02:00

Although this blog is not supposed to be 'activated' yet, I could not resist the temptation of writing a few words.
This week I bought a plane ticket and agreed with the rent of a room that was offered to me in the beautiful city of Prague. I will leave Amsterdam on May 22nd for two and a half months, to write (and photograph) a travel guide on Prague for Dutch publisher Gottmer. Needless to say, I am thrilled.

I only have to finish my Art History-thesis before I leave; 'minor' detail.....