Het monster slaapt. Je zou het niet zeggen zoals het daar staat, groot en groen op vier hoge poten, uitkijkend over mijn keuken, maar vanochtend nam ik de proef op de som en reed onverschrokken de grijze vuilnisbak naar de weg. Hij gaf geen krimp. Manmoedig liep ik nog een keer heen en weer om de post uit de brievenbus te halen, er zat een envelop in met een droevige cd met vier zingende mannen en in het bijgesloten boekje de opmerking “elke zanger moet ervoor oppassen dat hij, wanneer hij lamentaties zingt, geen enkele versiering maakt, omdat anders het trieste karakter zou omslaan in een te vreugdevolle sfeer.” Het regende. De vogels konden ternauwernood tegen de wind in vliegen.
Ik maakte een foto van twee kleine rode kolen. Ik weet niet zo goed wat ik aanmoet met die kolen. Ze zaten in mijn groentenpakket (zie Monique B). Ik zou ze op kunnen eten. Maar hoe? Ik kom niet verder dan rode kool met appeltjes en aardappelpuree en ik houd niet van rode kool met appeltjes. Of van aardappelpuree. Toch ben ik blij met de rode kolen. Met deze en de andere.
De eerste rode kolen stonden in een boek over Craigie Horsfield. Ik kocht het kort voordat ik naar Kolderveen “verhuisde”. Het lag verloren in de uitverkoop, een dik boek met een circuspaard voorop. Wie was dat ook alweer, Craigie Horsfield? Ik wist het niet meer maar het boek was onweerstaanbaar aantrekkelijk. Niet alleen vanwege de prachtige foto’s van nijlpaarden en rode kolen maar ook vanwege iets dat ik door de vele tekst heen voelde sluimeren. In de introductie schrijft hij “As we read each of us experiences differently, we are within this, we place ourselves towards others, so that there is the story, here on the page, the story we bring as readers, and that which is between us: this complex of relation. We attend to this between, the story and ourselves, bring our experiences, our stories of our experience, recognise and in our recognising enter into our own lives. This is our engagement as audience, these tenacious, these “sticky” connections, the things we bring with us, understanding, enquiry, compassion perhaps...This is something which happens now between us. In this action is described art, and it could be said of a picture, an event, a gesture, a shadow; but it is in the between, and if this between fails there remains only separating detritus: information, document or witness, unrealised, inert, sterile matter. But this misleading is perhaps misleading as though it were space, distance, and separation, when it is rather place, our present being. This is how the world occurs, and not in parts but entire and presently, the way we happen.” (uit “Introduction” door Craigie Horsefield in zijn boek Relation, p. 37). Later, op de website van zijn Engelse galerie las ik een korte samenvatting over zijn werk: “In Horsfield's work photographs form a small but significant part. Most of his recent photographs were made as part of collaborative social projects. As with much of his work, they are concerned with how we stand in relation to one to another, how relation, constantly in flux, determines community and how individuality is inextricably bound to relation, rather than alienation or separation. In his work, Horsfield integrates elements that are usually given over to politics, philosophy and ethics, so that art forms only one element among others in a complete thought process.” (http//www.frithstreetgallery.com/horsfield.html)
Hierover later meer. Nu terug naar de rode kolen.
Want er waren er meer. En één was achtergelaten. Ik fotografeerde de kool vorige week tijdens mijn eerste wandeling rondom Kolderveen, waarbij “rond” een relatief begrip is omdat alle wegen kaarsrecht op elkaar staan en de wandelroutes uit vierkanten bestaan. Ik houd ervan om te onderzoeken hoe de dingen zich tot elkaar verhouden. Hoe een rode kool opeens kan veranderen in een rode draad. Hoe alles met elkaar verbonden is op soms overzichtelijke maar vaker nog toevallige en mogelijk ook fantastische wijze. Natuurlijk wist ik het al maar Craigie Horsfield doet me weer inzien dat voor mij kunst maken gaat over hoe de dingen in relatie tot elkaar staan. Kunst maken gaat over verbindingen leggen tussen mijzelf, mijn werk en de kijker. Het gaat niet in de eerste plaats om het werk maar om wat er tussen het werk en de betrokken personen gebeurt.
De foto van “mijn” kolen is overigens mislukt. Vanavond eet ik ze op.
(English version)
The monster is asleep. You wouldn’t say so the way it is standing there, big and green on four tall legs, overlooking my kitchen. But this morning I dared him and fearlessly drove my grey trash can to the side of the road. He didn’t even flinch.
I walked back and forth again to collect the mail from my mailbox, there was an envelop with a sad cd in it with four men singing and a remark in the enclosed booklet saying “ each singer must take care that he makes no ornamentations when he sings the Lamentations, for otherwise their sorrowful character would be changed into one of too much joy.” It was raining. The birds could hardly fly against the wind.
I tried to take a photo of two small red cabages. I don’t really know what to do with those cabbages. They were part of my “vegetable bag”. I could eat them of course. But how? I can’t think of anything but red cabbage with apple and mash potatoes and I don’t like cabbage with apple. Or mashed potatoes. Still I’m pleased with the cabbages. These and the others.
I found the first red cabbages in a book about Craigie Horsfield. I bought the book just before I “moved” to Kolderveen. It was lost in a book sale, a big book with a circus horse on top. I couldn’t remember who he was, Craigie Horsfield, but the book was irresistable. Not only because of the beautiful photos of rhinos and red cabbages but also because of something I saw shimmering through the multitude of texts. In the introduction he writes: “As we read each of us experiences differently, we are within this, we place ourselves towards others, so that there is the story, here on the page, the story we bring as readers, and that which is between us: this complex of relation. We attend to this between, the story and ourselves, bring our experiences, our stories of our experience, recognise and in our recognising enter into our own lives. This is our engagement as audience, these tenacious, these “sticky” connections, the things we bring with us, understanding, enquiry, compassion perhaps...This is something which happens now between us. In this action is described art, and it could be said of a picture, an event, a gesture, a shadow; but it is in the between, and if this between fails there remains only separating detritus: information, document or witness, unrealised, inert, sterile matter. But this misleading is perhaps misleading as though it were space, distance, and separation, when it is rather place, our present being. This is how the world occurs, and not in parts but entire and presently, the way we happen.” (from “Introduction” door Craigie Horsefield in zijn boek Relation, p. 37). Later on, at the website of his English gallery, I read a summary of his work: “In Horsfield's work photographs form a small but significant part. Most of his recent photographs were made as part of collaborative social projects. As with much of his work, they are concerned with how we stand in relation to one to another, how relation, constantly in flux, determines community and how individuality is inextricably bound to relation, rather than alienation or separation. In his work, Horsfield integrates elements that are usually given over to politics, philosophy and ethics, so that art forms only one element among others in a complete thought process.” (http//www.frithstreetgallery.com/horsfield.html)
More about this later. Back to the red cabbages. Because there were more of them. And one was left.
I took a photo of the cabbage last week during my first walk around Kolderveen, at which “round” is a relative notion since all the roads here are dead straight and the walking routes form squares.
I like to research how things relate to each other. How a red cabbage can suddenly turn into a red thread. How everything is connected in a sometimes well-organised but more often coïncidental and possibly magical manner.
Of course I knew, but Craigie horsfield makes me realise again that for me making art is about how things relate to each other. Making art is about connecting myself, my work and the viewer. It is not about the “work of art” in the first place but it is about what happens between the work and the people involved.
By the way, the photo of “my” cabbages didn’t come out. I’ll eat them tonight.
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