I am worth 1 billion

Something new is going to happen at the Otium


Next thursday I have a meeting scheduled with the sound artist Margriet.

My idea is to think about and give shape to a performance. An outdoor performance to honour Oopje. Yes, the lady of the painting! So much discussed this year in France and the Netherlands. Oopje. She is a saint!

Wouldn't it be great to celebrate St. Oopje at the 1st of March, to start in 2016?!

So she can become next to St.Maerten, already a joyful day in the Netherlands. To celebrate St. Maerten, children sing songs and collect candy. It is a bit like Halloween, but not so scary.

To be continued...

Winter wisdom

Yesterday, I visited my ill mother. She lives in Soesterberg, in the house of her parents, my grandparents. I brought her handmade choclates from the city of Groningen. After ringing the doorbell five or six times, she opened the front door. Delighted.

Coffee. Let 's have some coffee. Where is the filter? I go look in the cellar. My mom mumbles. Thirty minutes later. Coffee, anyone?

I go upstairs. All the way up to the attic. A huge attic. Where my mom and her older sisters and brother swayed during wintertimes. Before the War.1939 vielleicht. She was three years old. They had to move out, later, for some years. Ordered by men with guns and loud voices.

Everything is peaceful when I pull the cord to get acces. A dark triangular deep space. As far as my eyes can see. What am I looking for. Txts. Some txts I produces years and years ago. Research, poetry, written stories I made up. I had to. Doing my time on the gymnasium. City of Zeist, hidden in the woods. Armando used to paint. So emotional. Did he or did he not kill a man. Did he see it. Hear it. Smell it. He still paints. He can't stop. Like me, this summer. I couldn't stop touching. The soft screen on my lap. In front of me. I hardly touched my son. He made me remember to do it to him. Smart son. Accessible mother.

On my way up I saw a red and white striped cover, bulking, yellowbraun newspapercutouts fringing. What the fuck! It looks like a complete organised personal medical encyclopedia. I thought these days were over. Well, you are guessing already. I am going to share this with you. No doubt.

Z.
Zelfdoding
Zenuwen
Zonnebrand
Zeeziekte
Zwakzinnigheid
Zelfinseminatie

Dear dearest Mijnske S. novel 2015

Everybody who thinks to recognize any of the names written in this novel is probably right. Amersfoort is a city in the Netherlands.

Reason.

Aristoteles :  There is still one case where the unjust insight keeps emerging. That case occurs when I know you and Theo ( - frastus) and at the same time my recollection of both of you occurs. In a distance I see you and him in a blur. From a visual approach I have to name the common cores of you and him, by looking at both of you. The survey I conduct then has to be placed in my body, in the top of my body, the so called head, from the outside. Brain, from the inside.
But what happens if I counter. Turn things up side down, inside out. Exchange the cores and the names of your and his body. Is it a misstake then? Like looking in a mirror, when the faces left and right are viewed upon like the other sides. Right at that moment, confusion emerges, originates. Unjust insights, if you please.

Mijnske S. : Suppose you are right, Aris. At least you just gave me and T. some words, a way of thinking about what might happen to get insights of the things.

T.: Suppose you are wrong, Totelus. The eye of humans, of me and M. have the shape of a globe. Merry goes round and round. Never goes insight the things, in the eye. The farrest in is probably the pupil. A black spot in our eyes. And then, when it enters, it might dissolve, vanish, dissolute.

Ar.:

Reasonable doubt and thinking

Doubt grows with knowledge . Written and orcsaid by J.W. Goethe, somewhere between 1749 and 1832. Maybe exactly in 1800.

Today I would say: progressing insight / voortschrijdend inzicht.

A chessplayer  has to think some time before acting, before moving another piece. Piece de resistence...

So, one could say, to doubt is to wiegh is to think pro and contra and in between is to think some time.

De stem van Herman W. In de nacht van 5 op 6 oktober 2015

6 October 2015, 02.00-03.00 uur EO Radio 1.
Een schriftelijk verslag.

Muziek. Gossiping the green, Winterbirds, Ray la Montagne, beetje hese stem.

Kerken, uitzending in de nacht van, met......vragenstellende vrouwenstem. Majestueuze stadskernen, eenvoudige dorpskerken. Leegstaande kerken, NL is er vol mee. Arnhem. Jozefskerk is nu indoorskate ruimte. Mensen hebben heel veel herinneringen. Maximaal 104 BMX skaters op zondag. # Twitter Dit is de nacht. 02.08 uur De heer Wesselink, bent u daar? Nee, nog niet.
Muziek. My little town, Simon en Garfunkel. Vrouwenstem Toen ik mijn ogen sloot zag ik de kleine dorpskerken van Friesland en Groningen voor me.
Muziek. I am happy just to be. In your life. There is no shadow, no darkness. I am living in your life.
Wat is je lievelingskerk? De mooiste kerk bestaat niet, net zomin als de liefste moeder. Rooms-
katholiek, 19de eeuw. Pierre Cuypers, architect.
Mystiek waar je u tegen zegt. St.Jozefskerk, Groningen. Die kerk heeft een inval van licht en gebrandschilderde ramen. (De kerk heet tegenwoordig St. Jozefkathedraal, MAS)
Wat gebeurt er met u als u dat licht ziet?
Een vriend zei ooit Herman Wesselink zou hiervan in opperste vervoering kunnen raken. Geestverheffend. Dat iets is moeilijk te omschrijven.

Kerken van allerlei geloof functioneren hetzelfde. Ontworpen met het concept van de liturgie. Dat wil zeggen, ruimte en vorm gegeven aan de eredienst. De stand van de banken, de kansel.

Blablablabla


Toen ik tien was begreep ik het niet helemaal, waarom ze die kerken sloopten. De Koninginnekerk, Rotterdam, Crooswijk, protestants.
Kerken zijn beeldbepalend, herkenbaar, in het straatbeeld. Het gevoel thuis te zijn. Als ik erlangs fiets is dat toch een heel vertrouwd beeld.
Wat is er uniek aan een kerkgebouw?
Uniek, uniek?
Is het gebruikelijk om voor een protestant naar katholieke dingen te verlangen?
Het is het transcendentale. Je kunt liefde voor die gebouwen vinden.
Beller. Amsterdam, de Chassekerk in West, RK, 1927 gebouwd,  kerk stond later leeg. Ervaarde je de gewijde monumentale sfeer.
Herman. De gevolgen van sloop zijn dat er geen moment van stilte is te ervaren. Ik ben voor het behoud van het kerkgebouw als beeldmerk. Dat kan blijven door goede lokale samenwerking, door draagvlak. En eerst de creatie daarvan, natuurlijk.

The Great story of Greeningen. Scape 7

Birthplace of creativity

The greenitude of our city draws the produce of the world into our hearts, so that to the Greenian the flowers of other cities are as familiar as a luxury as those of ourselves.

Wooden shoes are a surprise on a yellow boulevard. They sound like marching violins. Follow the violin player and a great square will open in front of your eyes. Glass buildings, hiding away in drawers, these dancing shoes, signed by the most illustrious designers worldwide. What is it that make your old hearts beat faster. The soundless butterflies coming to you, to your shoulders and rest for a while. Like all the citizens do once in a while at the Great Market Plaza, the Agora, the view from the Great City Building, with its monument for war sculpted on the front elevation. Where one stands before the grand stairs of one of the many City balconies.

The great story of Greeningen. Scape 6

Seringes, blueberries, appeltrees full and heavy, red cabbage wide open, the northern ringway is being Completed. Deep forest, the doggydays passed by, zero casualties. An arctic expedition is being in preparation. The nanny turn 48 without a party. The book of roses is becoming extraordinary. I am so happy. Everything fits. I feel free. I fly. August 2015.

I surf on the inter net, now such a delightful thing to do. The rest of the flying Dutch people are festivalling or being a tourist outdoors. Men with brains and hearts are preparing. For an expedition heading North. No more needles. I looked upon my savior. Again. While a was looking at the moon, with my grandfather at my sight, somewhere in the middle. The man Ha! was sweetening polar bears. In the beginning of this year I spoke out loud my true nature. It needed two huge glasses of red wine. Surprisingly good wine, considering the etablissement. It tasted so sweet. Where is He now? Did he make it, 74? We were so young. So far a part. The Beatles so loud. If only I could make him understand. Feel the same. It's allright now. Look:  poolstation.nl poolstation.nl  go to polar bear research, the video.

Freedom to fuck your mind

There are different kinds of freedom.
One is the freedom of complete individuality
One is the freedom in the liberal sense.
One is the universal value of freedom.
Which type of freedom do you think Mindfucking stressed most?

Is it a change in a persons reality?
Is it completely individual?
Is it a elite human privilege?

Or...

Is freedom the choice that cariës the most responsibility.
The choice for freedom still generaties obstacles.
Like advice not asked for.
I like to keep my distance from the mainstream.
The mainstream, the yellow snow, it is so predictable.
Lifes already lives. The tao of the elephants.

Reves. Drens. Dromen

There are magic moments, involving great physical fatigue and intense motor exitement, that produce visions of people known in the past ( en me retracant ces details, j'en suis a me demanded s'ils sont reel, on bien si je les ai reves.

There are also visions of books as yet unwritten

The Great Story of Greeningen. Scape 5

The book without date.

PLAY DEAD

Darling stop confusing me with your wishful thinking hopeful embraces don't you understand? I have to go through this I belong to here where no one cares and no one loves no light no air to live in a place called hate the city of fear I play dead it stops the hurting I play dead and the hurting stops it is sometimes just like sleeping curling up inside my private tortures I nestle into pain hug suffering caress every ache I play dead it stops the hurting

The Great Story of Greeningen Scape 4

The nanny came to call her to the telephone, and she, politely smiling, followed her into the living room.'In the first place, my dear love,' said Elisabeth W.B., 'Why is so hard to find your new number?' Left without a trace, didn't you? In the second place I want to congratulate you.......What, haven't you controlled it yet? (She hasn't looked upon any soundresults yet, said Elisabeth P.T. turning her misspiggy, voices toward someone out of sight).'Well, in that case, are you seated? I just received this txt: The newly blogged collection of poems by the unknown teacher Lucia H.G. strikes. Shall I come over to your place, now. I want to go give you the biggest hug possible. Not possible? Good as well, too bad. Ahhhh.'
 As she put down the horn, she sat down for a while. Her head was spinning. What now? The nanny, alarmed by the silence, slowly approached, trying not to be too loud, very aware of her tiny presence, which can move the air in seconds, to cause a cooling tender. The word okay filled the room. She saw the easy going shirt and jeans and these awfull practical shoes, her hair done according to a fashion for much younger women. Upstairs, she had to go upstairs again, avoiding more unbearable sights. All this was a view. Not looking than it does not exist. Move away. She had never thought of it that it would be this way, that people, somewhere on planet earth, would immediately appreciate her gift.

The great story of Greeningen. Scape three

I thought, yesterday late, I am going to try some Smirnoff. Like Poetin. You picture it, Mynski drinking white liquor. Als dat maar goed gaat. Hope for you all is well. A popular is a tree. A tulip is a flower. An ocelot is an animal. A nightingale is a bird. Europe is a territory. Life is a bitch, a bogger. Death is inevitable. The world of the gifted, new intellectuals, like the new rich, are popping up, like bird signs and moonlights. Now retrieved when dusted, whispered to, asked about, shine. We remained unknown to Dutch men and women in general, they do not see us. They do not look further than skirts and pants. And want babies all the time. The burger and burgeres becoming fat because of a lazy life, also known as comfortable. They think of as comfortable, as good, as something right to do. Their world. Not to confuse with planet Earth and seven billion people moving over it. This scape three is about brave hearts, a heroheroine, not Mus, Dutch poetry, Cats and Vasalis, a third character. A  name: ITperson. Iterson, an Icelandic habit of namegiving, a temporary phenomenon, I before J, V after T.

A person. Can a person be a gift? Can someone be too good to be true? Is there something like truth? Is it all in the name or less absolute, in the naming?  The creating. I wonder how far the imagination of the reader will follow the young lovers after they have been dismissed. The lovers who dream of writing, real writing, writing a blog with the name............. My young persons are influenced by the fall of the red lantern, belonging to a period when the acts were played. What do you remember of the first three years of your life? How? How do you know or not know, do you know? You will learn in time. Trust. Trust you. Or me. And me. Lets start with the three years just passed away. Yesterday, what did you drink on your porch, in front of your tent, in your favourite bar, on the in the wood something festival, at the bench in front of a TVmachine with red and green buttons, one alarming, one cooling, calming. Looking. Looking, for what exactly? Spending time. Waiting, waisting whipping seconds, hours, days, weeks. One year? Time is going so fast, time, a construction, a word,
something someone introduced one time. Was there a time when there was no time?



From Russia with love, Just Bond, licensed to kill, once upon in a time in Great Britain.

My uncle Albert

Oooooooooooooooooooooooh! When did I first see uncle Albert. I remember. The place. The happening. I am not sure about the date. No problem, I can figure that out. There was a crowd, a lot of people, all so called members of the family. Like united nations. All geographies and bodily hidden histories, voices all over the place. Something serious had happened recently. Something all seem to have touched. Grimms and enchantments. We had been travelling by train to gather with all these strange looking familiarities, highly exceptionally. We, in this case, my grandmother from the Sival Baarda branche, and me. For so far I can remember. All of a sudden my brother and sister were there as well. We joined. And then we met uncle Albert. We looked upon him, very excited, he smiled at us, made jokes. My sister immediately got very nervous, my brother and I had to laugh. Making a good time. He loved us. We were his kids for some time. My great grand mother just had been buried. The mother of my grandmother from the Sival Baarda family. Uncle Alberts mother. You are great kids, he said. You know what? I give you this. And he showed a ten guilder note. Ten guilders? We are with three! What to do? We decided to buy icecreams of three guilders a piece and return the one guilder coin to Albert. He let it all happen. He knew, always watch the little ones. Something very Dutch to do. Even the Belgions are profiting from it now.

Mmmmmm, uncle Albert. The uncle from up North, who rescued two family members from kamp Westenbork in the middle of world war two. 1942. Never seen him before. He lived very. In solitude was said. But, what did my father know about this?  So father so son. Dear religious dad.

How did he do it? Did he make a plan? Did he just decide  'I am going to be the man', was he bored,

war is so boring and especially these neighbour occupiers with their toys. Was his smell gone, by too much powder in the past? Didn't he think at all, did he follow his instinct? I wasn't there at the time.
what do I know about it? What I did came to know on the memorable traintrip day, was, he was quite
tall, taller than me. No exception to the rule, by that time all men were quite taller than me. Not my grandfather Piet, but all the other ones. So far nothing strange. When I looked up again, I saw he had very dark hair. And a lot of it. Well, that was extraordinary in the midst of all the Dutch blonds and light greys.
The story goes that he travelled by foot. When he arrived at the gate of Westenbork, it is said that he shouted at the guards. Probably something very impressive and with absolute authority, for they, the guards, opened the gates and he was allowed to go along, to get inside, to do what he came for to do.

Drie dagboekaantekeningen van Be Scholten, uit Horizon city, opgetekend door Jaap Scholten, 2014, p.369.
11december 1941. Wat is het moeilijk niets van elkaar te weten, maar we houden moed, niet waar? Niet aan de toekomst denken, maar van het heden een kunstwerk maken. Dat is ware levenswijsheid. Alleen het moment heb je in je macht.
27 Juli 1942 Gister kwam Hans hier met zeer alarmerende berichten uitvAmsterdam. Ze hebben 4000 Joden naar Duitsland gestuurd, vermoedelijk om daar afgemaakt te worden. Er speelden  zich de vreselijkste tonelen af op straat. Joden, die wilden vluchten of zich verweerden, werden neergeschoten. Enkele stumpers sprongen in de grachten en verdronken. Er heerst overal een spanning, die haast niet te houden is. Een groot aantal vooraanstaande mannen is als gijzelaar gevangen genomen. Ik hoorde uit Enschede dokter Van der Wal, zde Vries zeilinstructeur, Helmich Ledeboer en Bob Roelvink.
16 Augustus 1942 Op het ogenblik wordt er naar gezinnen gezocht, die tijdelijk een Jodenkind willen opnemen, waarvan de ouders naar Polen zijn gestuurd. Ik zou best een zuigeling willen adopteren, maar toen ik het aan Pieter voorstelde, moest hij er niets van hebben en zei, dat ik wel gek leek om het hele gezin aan het grootste gevaar bloot te stellen. Het is een illegale actie en je hebt niet met mensen, maar met wilde beesten te doen. Natuurlijk is dat wel waar, maar ik ben er voor mijn geweten nog niet van af. Bij het grote leed, dat wij allemaal te dragen hebben, wil ik meedragen en niet te vreden zijn als mij en mijn gezin nu toevallig nog niets ergs is overkomen. God, wat een ellende is er toch door die Hitler in de wereld gebracht.
10 October 1942 Frits is ook een bron van zorgen. Hij draaft zich dood voor die arme Joden. Het neemt hem zo in beslag dat hij niet meer tot werk komt. Ik kan het me zo begrijpen, want met elke stumper die je een schuilnaam bezorgt, red je een mensenleven. Ik had zelf wel een zuigeling willen aannemen, maar Piet durft het niet aan. Er hangen je de ergste straffen boven het hoofd en verbeurdverklaring van je goederen


The end, you know, the familie members, if they were family members at all, were travelling back with him, to were they wanted to. Never heard anything about the freed familiymembers. They were definitely not mourning, that day the brother and sister and me got icecreams of three guilders each. Strange, I realise now, there were no other kids there, then. The seventies, previous century. Just the three of us. Getting all the attention. The sister didn't like. I indulged in. The brother I don't know.

There is a cowboy version of this story, telling uncle Albert jumped on one of these transport trains, just in time, and, heroicly, freed all the passengers ( probably all breaking their legs without
muscles, falling). So far, a war rescue.

Summer 2015. My uncle Albert

Otium / Otia

The Roman politicians went to their otia near the Adriatic sea, to avoid the heath of the city of Rome in summertimes. Since 20.000 elderly persons died in Paris, last 2003, it would be a wise thing to do, not just for me. I wonder, how old were these politicians and why only the politicians? It has been almost ten years now, since I have had the opportunity to visit the Otium, a lot of things have happened since then. I invented the worldartparty.  www.worldartparty.blogspot.nl

First of all, I still like to go to the Otium, mainly for spacious reasons. And for doing nothing visibly. For a change. Sit and think. Remember. That kind of stuff.

I started to study history, three years ago. No, actually two years ago. I don't know how this works, but so many stories I have heard in the past, all pop-up. Stories my father told me about WW II for instance. He was between 4 and 8 years old, living in the city of Haarlem. With his mother, my grandmother, Frannie Baarda, married Sival Baarda, and his older brother, Frans Sival. He did not live with his father, Piet Sival, who was hiding for the militant Occupiers. How many years? I don't know. He didn't tell. Probably not more than 4 years. He was quite smart, Piet, the grandfather. And religious. He believed in the goodness of people and he was authority sensitive unlike me, he played the organ, he loved my grandmother with all his heart and being. He was very afraid and nervous at the end of his life. I was his darling grandchild. I kept answering all his questions. He liked a cigarillo or two after dinner. Something my sister and an older niece, both very intelligent and promoted women, in herited. Although the sister dips them in brandy. Just a matter of taste. We had a lot of fun, the old man and I, joking the world and especially all our family members and their habits.
Me twentytwo of age in the city of London, he passing away in the city of Utrecht. I made myself some promises.

Now and then I share a family story, with one or another parent, while waiting for the kids to drop out school. And I thought today, why not share it with you.

My uncle Albert

Before I die

I just realized, if I die and I probably will any time.

Who am I? LaMijnske. LalalaMijnsje.

At highschool I was gifted and talented. Quite everybody thought of that as normal. 1984
Now, I should have been profiled. You can choose from six profiles. 2014

What did I do, the thirty years in between? When I look at the profiles, almost all six can be written for me. I am not flattering myself. I trued to profile my most recent self.
Bron: Betts +Neihart (1988, 2010), vertaald en bewerkt door D. Dams (2013)

LaLaLaMijnske profile:

Mix uit zes typen leerlingen
1. Aangepast en succesvol
2. Uitdagend en creatief
3. Onderduikend
4. Risicoleerling
5. Dubbel bijzondere leerling
6. Zelfsturende autonome leerling

            Gedragskenmerken.                                 Behoeften

Uit 1.   Goed academisch zelfbeeld                      Uitgedaagd worden
                   
            Zocht bevestiging/ goedkeuring van leerkracht.    Growth mindset ontwikkelt
            Consument van kennis.                              Zelfkennis verbeteren
Uit 2.   Zeer creatief.                                              Aanmoediging van creativiteit/ inventiviteit
            Houdt van discussie.                                   Minder druk tot aanpassen
            Volhoudend in interessegebieden.             Aanleren van tact, flexibiliteit, zelf bewustzijn
            Vertoonde inconsistente werkwijzen.             Strategieën aanleren om te kunnen omgaan met
            Had een slechte zelfcontrole.                    Psychologische kwetsbaarheid
            Heeft stemmingswisselingen
            Daagt de leerkracht uit, corrigeert de leerkracht
            Stelt regels ter discussie
            Is eerlijk en direct
            Komt op voor eigen opvattingen, is competitief
Uit 3.   Zag begaafdheid niet als waardevol, ontkent begaafdheid.    Zelfbegrip en zelfacceptatie
            Wil geen uitzonderingspositie.                        Gehoord en serieus genomen worden
            Zoekt sociale acceptatie.                                Vrijheid om keuzes te maken
            Verandert geregeld van vriendschap/ peergroup.     Netwerk van Peers, rolmodellen
            Heeft vrijwel geen band met leerkracht.         Aanmoediging van talenten
            Onzeker over welke richting te volgen/ geen volger.   Leren conflicten expliciet te maken
Uit 4.   Neemt onregelmatig deel aan onderwijs.         Veiligheid en structuur
            Zoekt buitenschoolse uitdaging.                       Individueel programma
            Zoekt spanning.                                                 Andere omgeving als alternatief
            Laag zelfbeeld, verwaarloost, isoleert zichzelf.   Confrontatie en verantwoordelijkheid
            Bekritiseert zichzelf en anderen, verstoort.        Professionele counseling
            Reageert af, is creatief, werkt inconsistent.       Richting en korte termijn doelen
            Kan defensief zijn, voelt zich niet geaccepteerd, verzet tegen autoriteit
Uit 5.   Denkt in concepten, ideeen.                                Nadruk op sterke kanten, copings strategieën
            Lijkt sociaal en emotioneel jonger.                     Attent blijven voor problemen/stoornissen
            Gedragsproblemen.                                              Omgeving creëeren waar sterke kanten
            Chaotisch, ogenschijnlijk ongeordend.                Leren voor zichzelf op te komen
            Goed probleemoplossend vermogen
Uit 6.   Ontwikkelt eigen doelen.                                    Meer ondersteuning, niet minder
             Leer uit fouten, neemt risico's.                           Stimuleren nieuwe richtingen
             Werkt enthousiast, is creatief.                             Kiezen en onafhankelijkheid vergroten
             Veerkracht.                                                           Feedback over sterke kanten, mogelijkheden
             Produceert kennis.                                               Langdurige, faciliterende relaties
             Intrinsiek gemotiveerd.                                        Support team

Ongelooflijk wat een lijst.
Dat ik nog leef, overleef, actually.
En hoe! Haha.

Artproject: A GREAT PLACE TO DIE

Love s knowledge

After a time, after Reading a million of Books, now I found something, you don' t believe your eyes while Reading iT.



P . 277
And THE blinding moment of catalectisch knowledge, like any other break in THE walls of habit, has THE feeling of eternity, of THE whole of a life:

Mysterious and momentary, instantaneous yet forever, hard, glitterend, strange, with THE precipitous finality of death.


Book: Love s knowledge. Written by Martha Nussbaum, 1990

To be remembered and cities over and over. later she wrote THE book Creating capabilities. About THE question what is a person really capable of.

Project : A GREAT PLACE TO DIE

Summer at THE Otium

How now after THE fire of 2010

inspiration for THE men of shoot.