Polaroidlife #11: Al alba vincero

YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THEY SAY YOU DO NOT CARE THEY SAY YOU DO NOT GO THEY SAY AND WHEN I STAND THERE I HEAR THOSE WORDS OVER AND OVER AGAIN WHILE I SMELL THE  SUMMER TREES TASTE THE WIND WITH SALTY TEARS I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN I KNOW I DO CARE I KNOW I AM HERE…

Polaroidlife #10: Flower Parking

LEANING AGAINST WINDOW FRAME A ROSE IS A ROSE IS A ROSE SOUVENIR TOSSED ASIDE LOST DELIGHT PETALS OF PASSED DREAMS OF FAINTLY HEARD SCREAMS IN THE EARLY SUN THE ROSE DIES SHE BELONGS TO THE NIGHT IS AFRAID OF MORNING LIGHT

Polaroidlife #9: Frankly my dear

YOU ARE NOT PC SHE TELLS ME I REPLIED THAT I AM JUST A VULGAR MAN A MOZART WOULD-BE WITHOUT EBONY AND IVORY AND I GOT SCARED THAT FACEBOOK KEEPER OF THE HOLY VIRTUE WOULD EXPEL ME FROM ITS PLAYGROUND OF FAKE LIFE. THAT LIFE WOULD BECOME A SUGARCOATED REFLECTION OF WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE….

Polaroidlife #8: fade to grey

THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO SAY WORDS AS DRY AS FLOWERS STRIPPED OF THEIR LAST 3 LETTERS WOODEN BEAMS CRAVING FOR A TOUCH OF PAINT WHEN THE CUP OF T IS FINISHED ONLY PAIN REMAINS WHAT COLOR IS PAIN IS IT INFINITE BLUE HELLISH RED OR HIDDEN GREEN COLORS NEED NO ADJECTIVES TO DESCRIBE A…

The girl (Hans Op de Beeck): verdronken beeld.

De weg naar Watou lijkt elke keer langer. De schuur waarin de reden van zijn bezoek hangt, steeds warmer. Voor de zevende maal in 3 weken trotseert hij het forenzenverkeer naar het kunstdorp. De reden is dubbel. Hij houdt ervan om met de zon in zijn rug te rijden. Ze stuwt hem verder, geeft hem…

Breaking news: crashed drone pilot is no work of art

The place formerly known as Antwerp, 15 juli 2133 (from our local A.I bot). Art lovers were surprised to find a new (and anonymous) work of art in the well-known Sculpture Park Middelheim. Being confronted with the unknown object, the Artbot organising the guided tour was quick to come up with a posthypermodern vision on…

Polaroidlife #7: Sink-ronicity

THE  PURPOSE OF ART IS WASHING THE DUST OF DAILY LIFE OFF OUR SOULS. TODAY WAS CLEANSING TIME IN WATOU. A BLAZING SUN DOES NOT CLEAN, IT TORCHES THE DROPS OF SWEAT ON YOUR SKIN. BEHIND SUNGLASSES THE COLOURS OF ART FADE. ON THE MARKET PLACE A LONELY CAT DESPERATELY LOOKS FOR SHADE. HER SHADOW…

Graven in het verleden: Rudy Witse

Wellicht over vier maanden is dit appartement leeg. Boeken, kunst en de rest van mijn leven verhuizen naar een andere plek. Wherever I lay my head, that’s my home, zullen we maar zeggen. Hoe downsize je een leven? Ik weet het nog niet, maar het zal nodig zijn. Het is een bewuste keuze om vierkante meters leefruimte…

Love letter to a statue

Dear mister Rilke, Dear Rainer, I hope that you don’t mind me addressing you as Rainer. We have a lot in common: just like you I am an avid letter writer. I have a confession to make, dear Rainer, I fell in love and now I feel like the panther you have described so eloquently in your poem. I…