About

the mind needs to create a void in good time

I am a creative writer and a painter. A construction worker building layers of thoughts in oil and graphite. Silent mixtures of pigments and letters immersed in values, contrasts, highlights become part of linnen and cellulose. Layer on layers creating a story, a world apart, separated from time and location.

Mijn laatste posts

  • The carbonisation of skin
    A human body has a skin to protect itself from wild and stormy forces. This outer layer also makes a frantic effort to resist severe heat and cold. from the inner layers comes desire; it is fuel Feel the oxygen… We have liftoff… a very, very good burn I’m an intersolar traveller and a stardustLees verder “The carbonisation of skin”
  • the story of a naked body lying on bedrock
    He was exhausted, sweaty and feeling black like a bucket full of charcoal dust. His eyelids, lashes and irises turned obsidian while his mouth was gold his stumbling words are melted in the gold His mind melts gold Naked he lays Bedrock naked On the bare and pure rockstone cove … he is everywhere asLees verder “the story of a naked body lying on bedrock”
  • Restitution Lake
    De rivier liep van waar ik stond in diepblauwe kobalten vlagen langsheen glinsterende zonbeschenen groene velden tot aan de hoogstammige bomen in de verte. Daarachter, ver buiten het zicht maar voor de Bergen van Ada lag Restitution Lake. Aanpalend aan het meer liggen uitgestrekte moerassen waar het geurt naar vochtige aarde, gewas en zwavel. DeLees verder “Restitution Lake”
  • Veenlanden
    Hier, in de brede vallei, liep ik in een onbekend maar vertrouwd aanvoelend landschap. De rivier vertrekkend uit aderen diep verscholen in tijd en plaats, legde al eeuwenlang grote afstanden af, er ontstond leven en structuur, nieuwe bodem en ruimte. Een rivier stroomopwaarts volgen is altijd het hoog potentieel tegemoet gaan maar de bedding wasLees verder “Veenlanden”
  • Summer solstice
    In who we are and where we come from is the certainty that what we are made of is the true connection to each other. We are flesh we are blood and we celebrate it with our moving body in rituals and chants. these connections contribute significantly to our daily reality Dance to the tribeLees verder “Summer solstice”
  • Ik dacht
    ik begin gewoon te schrijven. Schrijven schrijven schrijven… het voelt goed…en na een tijdloos gebeuren stonden er 827 woorden voor mij, dat zijn nog geen 3 gedrukte vellen papier. Het leek de wereld, de tijd en heel veel reizen en ontmoetingen met karakters en atmosferen.Ik geraak dus nooooit tot een boek… Nooit. Ik denk datLees verder “Ik dacht”
  • a bright insight
    Where will you be when the light comes in? Everything you need to know is present here. The water is warm and clear. The rocks reveal their aged spirit. This cave is the mouth and it will express insights on your questions before you even pronounced them; even more, your words will vaporize when enteringLees verder “a bright insight”
  • stained glass window
    Turning the world into glass is an extraordinary aspect most people don’t know about. It is anti-matter and energy, it applies outcomes of old alchemy. It’s only visible when you are on the other side and it can set images and shapes on walls, faces, chairs and floors; reframing their edges and their being. TheLees verder “stained glass window”
  • I don’t belong here
    I am an oil barrel stacked with plastic remnants of every day life, fishnets, styrofoam, softdrink bottles, sanitary pads, condoms, ropes, sardine cans, crude oil spoils, pens and biros, metal scraps, floats, hooks and baseball hats, synthetic clothes, tennis balls, battery packs, chopsticks, flowerpots, engine caps, biscuit packages, fed-ex wrappings and competitor tape, music cassettes,Lees verder “I don’t belong here”
  • A hobo friend from Oklahoma
    Along the banks of Muddy Boggy Creek he wandered for endless miles. Cutting stones in his old mind while facing a strong sharp low shearing wind. He never made it that far from his hometown Atoka, never felt the urge nor he ever thought it was a necessary thing to do anyway. He was headingLees verder “A hobo friend from Oklahoma”