My life as an amateur. Part 112.

 I met an artist on the artfair, she asked me my name. HF, is that a name? She also didn’t like fat paintings. She wasn’t a bad person. Another one told me that she thought that her work  was far more real. I wrote it all done on ugly pieces of paper, they didn’t know that what they said became art. At the end of the fair I participated in an artist talk. Almost all the visitors left already. I liked that. And on the question ‘why HF’ I could tell everyone haha. That it has always been my artist name, and that it fits perfectly with my non-binair identity. At Koningsdag I bought a boxershort from Ralph Lauren for two euros. Ha.

We are spending some time in a village in France. I like to make performance videos. I call them either ‘My life as an amateur’ or ‘An idea for a better world’. This morning I went for a slow run with the Dog. A neighbour came running out of his house in a red t-shirt and his underpants. He said good morning. I took some of the wild thyme growing as weeds. 

I want to read and finish BUTTER fast, it is written by Asako Yuzuki. It contains subjects completely out of my comfort zone, like food, gaining weight, sex, the role of the woman in the household, and all these combined. What I like is all these subjects situated in Japanese society. The next book I want to read is about a non-binary person. It’s lying in a secret compartment of our car. I need to go there through the rain. But that’s ok, I need to fetch the giant jigsaw puzzle of a painting by Breughel as well, because of the rain. This morning I decided to make a little book of abstract drawings and to read ‘In their shoes’ by Jamie Windust, to have a show of navigating non-binary life. Clothes are important.

My life as an amateur. Part 108.

 Waving lightly people talking practice in doing nothing

I wrote on a piece of paper the wish to practice in doing nothing and to make good work from now on. Currently I have these hubcaps on show. People seemed to like them, the form, the reflection, the bit of oil paint in the valve. I am glad. Today is the last day and while sitting there I planned to do some writing here, to ventilate my amateurship and maybe note down some eavesdropping. I am not going to argue with visitors about their behaviour. 

It’s nice when you can give each other meaning.

you want to hustle around is what you want.

Put it in put it out.

It’s still still. Tomorrow I will start a pink painting.

And a pink poem.

In front of a church on an empty square a man was standing watching a naked wall singing a religious song just loud enough for me to hear. He was wearing a white helmet with two black stripes running from the back to the front. This almost beautiful scene must have been the pink poem because this color was missing. And it was me watching.