The attic
28 August 2025
28 August 2025
So the institute acquired the archive of Aldo and Hannie van Eyck. Physically everything is still on site where it was created: in the former house and workplace of the architects, now home to their heirs. Historically it’s not an insignificant place. The garden in the cover photo of this book, Team 10 meetings, is theirs, and the very place where I ate my sandwich for lunch yesterday. I went there because I thought we might need some pictures of the archive in situ, before it was transported to the depots in Rotterdam. When it’s gone it’s gone. Also, I was curious.
I would be photographing in the attic, while three of my colleagues prepared the inventory. And I would take pictures of them at work as well. I didn’t know what to expect from ‘the attic’. Dark probably. Cramped, cluttered. Difficult light distribution. I brought the tripod, but I didn’t know if there was enough space to unfold it. Besides, how useful is a tripod when photographing the dynamics of people at work? I wasn’t sure. I usually photograph things that do not move, or move very, very slowly, like buildings, landscapes and interiors. Occassionally a human being is present in the frame. But for this, I imagined something less static and distant. Not being a fly on the wall, but more or less present in the process, as far as that goes.
Unfortunately I didn’t get to see the house, which has a beautiful interior. J. photographed it earlier this year, including the models, and before the entire art collection was sold (I believe that eventually the house itself will be sold as well). But he never made it to the attic, which is in a separate building on the same property, and nothing special, apart from the fact that it houses the archive.
(︎︎︎ Some familiar seventies items made me smile: a brown version of the green Poulsen lamp hung over our dining table when I was a child. The Boby trolley, that was my mum’s, and I had this globe-like paper lamp in my bedroom, only smaller. Isamu Noguchi vs IKEA, I presume.)
For various reasons I felt a responsibility to do this right. I would not be able to do it again, nor would anyone else. Not everything worked out well, but I’m pleased with what did. The only silly thing I did is not photographing the garden.
A selection of these photographs is here to see.
I would be photographing in the attic, while three of my colleagues prepared the inventory. And I would take pictures of them at work as well. I didn’t know what to expect from ‘the attic’. Dark probably. Cramped, cluttered. Difficult light distribution. I brought the tripod, but I didn’t know if there was enough space to unfold it. Besides, how useful is a tripod when photographing the dynamics of people at work? I wasn’t sure. I usually photograph things that do not move, or move very, very slowly, like buildings, landscapes and interiors. Occassionally a human being is present in the frame. But for this, I imagined something less static and distant. Not being a fly on the wall, but more or less present in the process, as far as that goes.
Unfortunately I didn’t get to see the house, which has a beautiful interior. J. photographed it earlier this year, including the models, and before the entire art collection was sold (I believe that eventually the house itself will be sold as well). But he never made it to the attic, which is in a separate building on the same property, and nothing special, apart from the fact that it houses the archive.
(︎︎︎ Some familiar seventies items made me smile: a brown version of the green Poulsen lamp hung over our dining table when I was a child. The Boby trolley, that was my mum’s, and I had this globe-like paper lamp in my bedroom, only smaller. Isamu Noguchi vs IKEA, I presume.)
For various reasons I felt a responsibility to do this right. I would not be able to do it again, nor would anyone else. Not everything worked out well, but I’m pleased with what did. The only silly thing I did is not photographing the garden.
A selection of these photographs is here to see.
American Embassy
07 August 2025
07 August 2025
Former American Embassy, The Hague. Built in 1959. Architecture by Marcel Breuer.
Villaggio
29 May 2025
29 May 2025
I spent a couple of summers in Sweden when I was a child. My dad worked for a Swedish company in the Netherlands. I don’t think they owned the holiday park where we stayed, but at least they reserved part of it for their employees. It must have been somewhere in the Stockholm archipelago, because I remember visiting the capital, and the park having small boats available to navigate the surrounding waters. It also had a tennis court, and best of all, a sort of community building where breakfast was served. Food that I’d never had before, and certainly not for breakfast, like smörrebröd and meatballs with blackberry marmalade, generously heaped on large plates.
I was thinking about this when I looked into the history of our temporary home in Borca di Cadore. Villaggio ENI was initiated by Enrico Mattei, the chairman of Italy’s largest oil company, and designed by architect Edoardo Gellner between 1954-1957. A holiday village offering a range of accommodation for ENI employees and sick staff who would benefit from the crisp mountain air. A socialist dream of community, connecting with nature and an architecture devoid of local folklore, in favour of raw concrete, glass and wood. Gellner also designed the villas’ interiors and furniture, using a colour palette of contrasting hues, such as yellow, blue and red, inspired by Californian modernist Richard Neutra.
I was thinking about this when I looked into the history of our temporary home in Borca di Cadore. Villaggio ENI was initiated by Enrico Mattei, the chairman of Italy’s largest oil company, and designed by architect Edoardo Gellner between 1954-1957. A holiday village offering a range of accommodation for ENI employees and sick staff who would benefit from the crisp mountain air. A socialist dream of community, connecting with nature and an architecture devoid of local folklore, in favour of raw concrete, glass and wood. Gellner also designed the villas’ interiors and furniture, using a colour palette of contrasting hues, such as yellow, blue and red, inspired by Californian modernist Richard Neutra.
It's not quite clear how much of the interior of our home was original. Photos suggest that two adjacent rooms had been
joined together and that the kitchen door had been replaced with a sliding door. Most of the furniture appeared to be original, with some pieces bearing name tags and serial numbers. In one of the kitchen cupboards I found piles of dinner plates and cups with a logo that I recognised as the Agip petrol station logo, and we joked that the landlord got his crockery by saving stamps.
Agip was a product of the Italian fascist regime. After the Second World War, Mattei was appointed to oversee the dismantling of Agip, but rather than abolishing it, he transformed it in terms of content, structure and ideology. Under the umbrella of ENI, which was founded in 1953, he turned Agip into a cornerstone of a modern, independent Italian energy empire with a strong social agenda. The famous six-legged, fire-breathing dog logo was designed in 1952, after the fascist period. Retaining the Agip logo despite the company’s origins can be understood as an example of strategic rebranding and cultural reappropriation. It decorated vases, plates and cups, custom-designed by Gellner himself.
Mattei's death in a plane crash in 1962 marked the end of his ambitious utopia. Although the village was never completed, the existing buildings continued to accommodate guests until 1992. The following years were marked by neglect and decay until, in 2000, the entire structure was sold to a Sardinian company. This marked the beginning of a slow ascent. In 2014, Progettoborca was established to introduce new ideas and initiatives to breathe new life into the property. Exploring the area, we saw reconstruction work taking place at the hotel and spa. The ‘colony’, which could accommodate 600 children, is now a gated construction site and an artists' and architects' residence, with tours every now and then. But a full-fledged renovation doesn’t seem to be happening. Perhaps the 2026 Winter Olympics in Cortina, only 15 miles away, will provide the incentive needed to change that.
Agip was a product of the Italian fascist regime. After the Second World War, Mattei was appointed to oversee the dismantling of Agip, but rather than abolishing it, he transformed it in terms of content, structure and ideology. Under the umbrella of ENI, which was founded in 1953, he turned Agip into a cornerstone of a modern, independent Italian energy empire with a strong social agenda. The famous six-legged, fire-breathing dog logo was designed in 1952, after the fascist period. Retaining the Agip logo despite the company’s origins can be understood as an example of strategic rebranding and cultural reappropriation. It decorated vases, plates and cups, custom-designed by Gellner himself.
Mattei's death in a plane crash in 1962 marked the end of his ambitious utopia. Although the village was never completed, the existing buildings continued to accommodate guests until 1992. The following years were marked by neglect and decay until, in 2000, the entire structure was sold to a Sardinian company. This marked the beginning of a slow ascent. In 2014, Progettoborca was established to introduce new ideas and initiatives to breathe new life into the property. Exploring the area, we saw reconstruction work taking place at the hotel and spa. The ‘colony’, which could accommodate 600 children, is now a gated construction site and an artists' and architects' residence, with tours every now and then. But a full-fledged renovation doesn’t seem to be happening. Perhaps the 2026 Winter Olympics in Cortina, only 15 miles away, will provide the incentive needed to change that.
But then
22 March 2025
22 March 2025
I won’t say too much
about this, for privacy reasons. But then, it’s been eight years ago now. I
don’t think this project ever saw the light of day, and I see no harm in
posting two pictures from my limited behind-the-scenes series as long as I don’t
name names. One of the most atypical things I’ve ever done, though of course
the setting is all too familiar.
Not to do certain things
13 March 2025
13 March 2025
“So much effort has had to go into trying not
to do certain things. Not to use the sky…to rescue the land. Not to be seduced
into celebrating the power of men and machines, which can have a Satanic beauty
and heroism about it. And not to aestheticize the carnage.” - Robert Adams
Words that make me think of this picture I took in Norway back in 2020. I was quite content with it, I remember, especially with how the clouds had turned out. (Not to use the sky.. ) The quote also reminds me of a comment that I received a couple of years ago, which stated that in my photographic work I seemed to be looking for some sort of reassuring aesthetic, regardless of moral, socially or critical aspects. The question raised is basically whether aesthetics and social criticism are mutually exclusive. I don’t think so. Aesthetics isn’t necessarily reassuring, it can also have a disruptive effect, because the viewer is tempted to find something beautiful that on a closer look actually is not. Perhaps providing a sense of aesthetics is another way of connecting viewer and landscape, and thus adding a sense of ownership and loss.
Words that make me think of this picture I took in Norway back in 2020. I was quite content with it, I remember, especially with how the clouds had turned out. (Not to use the sky.. ) The quote also reminds me of a comment that I received a couple of years ago, which stated that in my photographic work I seemed to be looking for some sort of reassuring aesthetic, regardless of moral, socially or critical aspects. The question raised is basically whether aesthetics and social criticism are mutually exclusive. I don’t think so. Aesthetics isn’t necessarily reassuring, it can also have a disruptive effect, because the viewer is tempted to find something beautiful that on a closer look actually is not. Perhaps providing a sense of aesthetics is another way of connecting viewer and landscape, and thus adding a sense of ownership and loss.