I am afraid of everything. When I write about whatever comes to mind I feel better. Less terrified. What to create, what to write, to film, to photograph. Most of the ‘things’ I see I find boring. Including my own creations. At the moment I am painting in the dark. Some colors, and then several layers of white. Maybe it’s me that’s boring, not so interesting, so how can you make something interesting. A.found a pottery wheel machine around the corner, with two loaves of clay. We live in a very expensive neighborhood. This morning my new running shoe tripped over an irregular piece of pavement. Now my knee is totally red and without any skin. Just around the corner. I don’t think anyone saw it happen. I stood up and ran further, not happy with myself and all that blood. I do not want to be obliged to make art. Or things that might be art. Our neighbor lady tells us the story of her father, how a nice person he was in the second world war. He couldn’t shoot people so he asked to work in the kitchen making soup from almost nothing, gathering around Freiburg. He saw and knew horrible things, but … never took them home, being all funny and happy about life. That’s nice when you are seven. You do not have to be afraid.
Last Saturday I went to my place of birth Vlaardingen to deposit some works for an exhibition, at the former area of Unilever near de Nieuwe Maas. It was situated right next to the Delta hotel where we celebrated a wedding anniversary of my grandparents when I was little, maybe nine or ten years old. A was told to wear a skirt because my father liked it so much. I can’t bring the event back to mind, I felt somehow misplaced probably.
Afterwards I went to my sister’s place. She had just woken up and her boyfriend was enjoying the sun in the garden. I never met him before but he told me straight away that I looked like my nephew. It felt like a compliment, giving me, and my nephew, bigger seats in the family.
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