Preparing for winter

November 15, 2020
This picture from last weekend (and also these) triggered some ideas. That happens sometimes, but usually nothing much happens after, as ideas have a tendency to drain away as quickly as they emerge, outsmarted by practicalities, my inability to move a project forward, a lack of time or motivaton. The only thing that might be different now, is that I need it more. Ideas, a project. Life has somewhat shrinked since the outbreak. The work eat sleep routine is starting to suck the life out of me. Keeping up photography feels essential under the circumstances. The idea is quite simple: go into town and take pictures, squares, in black and white, more ‘flat’ than spacious. I have no words for the content or concept yet, other than these formalities. I can somehow ‘see’ what I want it to be like, what it should look like and what feeling I want them to convey when I put them together. Very vague, I know. But enough to move forward, I believe. 

On a more practical note, but also stemming from this single image: I rearranged the website quite a bit. Some design changes, but more substantial: the menu now consists of six shortcuts: three permanent, and three subject to change, depending on what I’m working on or what I would like to put in the storefront. It includes a draft, a sort of moodboard for this new series. The index page is now the main navigation tool, offering access to every single page with one click. Keeping the institute and the travelogues out of the menu, pushes them somewhat to the background, which feels appropriate. 

Third: this series, if it will ever come to that, will be of moderate size. I’m thinking of a magazine format to publish them. Either with Blurb, for starters, to explore the concept as well as the format with their design tool, but also looking at Printroom, a Rotterdam based studio dedicated to artist’s publications, small press and self publishing projects. I would be interested to do one of their workshops. In better times to come.
Facade (detail) of the now vacant Correct building, a warehouse for consumer’s electronics in Rotterdam. Correct moved into this building, a former movie theater at the Bergweg, in the early seventies. It will soon be demolished to make space for a new housing complex.

Pair

November 07, 2020
Left: Silo of the flour factory Latenstein, Rijnhaven zz, Katendrecht, Rotterdam, 1948-52. Architect Jo Vegter. On the right: Student housing, Louvain-la-Neuve, Belgium. A planned pedestrian new town developed from 1968 on to house the Université catholique de Louvain.

Field notes from your editor

September 27, 2020

At this point, the website contains 116 pages, most of them stacked in a continuous feed so it’s not instantly noticable, but it still is a somewhat embarrasing 116 pages, or topics. It’s a rough estimation, but I’d say that every topic contains an average of seven pictures (zero to five for a blogpost, 15 for a travelogue, 5 per assignment). Which makes for more than 800 photographs. Needless to say that this is not a portfolio. It’s documenting work. Including some sort of portfolio, although I’d rather not use the word. It’s a living thing, fed, raised and cared for like a pet.

In my own defense: I like making websites. I enjoy tinkering with lay outs and navigation, aligning content with design, selecting and pairing images. I also like seeing pictures in their context and making them accessible, not necessarily to others. Pictures that otherwise waste away on the hard drive. I like making books too. Different medium, similar reasons. It helps me to get a grip on the outcome of photographing for almost a decade now and learn from it. Building and maintaining a website is a blunt confrontation with where you stand as a photographer, beyond the single image. 

The better part of the website shows pictures in their original context. The documenting part. It’s only on the sample pages that I detach them from where they come from. Cross selections, based on or moulded into formal, not unproblematic frameworks, like ‘landscape’, or ‘interior’. And then there is a sort of meta layer in the form of a blog. Also the home of small, incidental series that do not belong anywhere else.
It’s partly an occupational hazard, this inclination to offer multiple entries to the same content to improve accessibility, and to contextualize content in different ways to provide more than just one narrative. Another truth behind these layers is, of course, a lack of series and concepts. Organizing pictures based on their geographical provenance is the most obvious thing to do – and quite satisfying I must admit – but not necessarily the most interesting. I always find myself looking for cross connections, for other ways to organize them. Not sure if there are any that are fruitful. I do wonder how likely it is that several meaningful bodies of work could ever emerge from a bunch of singles that are taken without a clear concept beforehand. Not very, I’m afraid. Unless your name is Todd Hido.

Perhaps I should forget about series and admit and embrace the autonomy of these pictures and present a seemingly random selection on the homepage. I’ve been thinking about it on and off, and looking at Marton Perlaki’s website the other day, a photographer that I first came across at Unseen photo fair, sort of revived that idea.

On the other hand, looking at ‘landscape’: I intended to regularly update the sample sections. Turns out I almost never do. I sometimes replace an image or one of the pairs, but basically, it’s been the same selection since I first put it online. I feel that more recent pictures do not fit in, perhaps because they don’t, or perhaps the current selection has grown on me. I wonder what that means. It might mean that this is the beginning, or the core, of a series.

Picture taken in Telemark, Norway. Just one from recently that I happen to like. 

Dwelling

August 17, 2020
It’s less than a year ago, but this picture seems to come from another lifetime. I could travel freely, hop on a plane for a short hiking trip. I still had my cameras, the one I took this picture with and the one he’s holding in his hands. We could sit side by side, unknowingly of any social distancing concept. We were still connected. A sort of togetherness that in time vaporized with the rest of it.

“Have you tried dwelling on it forever?”

(Picture a woman in tears, on the phone with her bored friend, from a cartoon series mocking our modern times, shallow and self-absorbed, using the visual language of graphic novels from the fifties or sixties.)

I think of this line every now and then. It makes me smile. Not that I haven’t. Tried.

Bergen, Norway, 2019. Picture taken with the Nikon D750

Voorzieningen

July 09, 2020


I like the word voorzieningen, which means something like ‘facilities’. It’s a generic word, meaningless almost. It could be anything. But it’s also very specific, in a given context. In this particular one, it’s about entertainment. A well defined, pre-established concept that leaves little room for surprises. I’m always drawn to these areas, knowing exactly what to expect, and yet curious about details, execution and interpretation.

Vacation park in Exloo, Drenthe, The Netherlands. Pictures taken with the Nikon Z6