notes, quotes, provocations and other fair use 2004 by jouke kleerebezem

issue 90
conversational drift
informatic license
exquisite enclaves



— FIN —

Hans Arp studio still

— FIN —

16mm footage curtain

ExE is taken down in a day. Tomorrow Frans L. gets his transport. The show is history. Most of the 16mm footage turned greenish. The apple mash created zillions of fruit flies. The NRZ copies’ paper turned towards grey from light blue.

stores at ExEnd

late afternoon Edward Hopper sun sun sun light
This Saturday and Sunday 23-24 October are the last days of the enclavexquise installation. Monday morning between 9 and 10 you can find me at the museum taking some last photographs. From ten we will be taking it down. Back and forth all the time between France and NL I have a lot of time to think over the project and plan new opportunities. Some possibilities for both exhibition and publication have announced themselves The reader of this weblog (huh?) are the first to know. I have returned to the Moulin however, for a couple of days. If only to listen to my favorite music, staring out of my favorite windows on my favorite part of the world surrounded by my favorite people and stuff. Stores will re-open soon.


I know off little research that looks into how the web is read: both how its content is grasped from the images and text that are displayed, as well as how we read the medium itself — like we read painting, sculpture, film, architecture, design, fashion, nature, politics, the sky, the past, our friends, life and death.

As a space, as a functionality, as a source, as an infinite field covered with images and text some of which you can point and click to get to other fields with images and text the web is such large and deep reading matter.

we always needed more time

15 October is my mother’s birthday. Since she died already in 1984 having just turned 61 there is less to celebrate than there is to remember. She deserved more time. We deserved more time with her. How she would have loved it here, in this overgrown place. Especially in the season when the green explodes into one last shining then starts to dissolve into darker and wetter colors. It would tell us about the vanity of all life. Then she would return in winter times, to find a frozen rest, and certainly take a lot of time in spring, to bring her aquarel paper and yellows, blues and greens, some red and sienna paints. She would stay very close to the soil and find the first pale signs of life pushing aside the earth for light and air. Hers could be an insect’s mind and eye. One late summer she taught me how to paint a watercolor We camped in France, when in the mid 1960s I sold my first ever work of art — I considered it that without hesitation — to the farmer’s wife in St.-Côme d’Olt who had witnessed me in my way side close attention. I think it was peony seed boxes then as it has always been. Accidentally tonight we open some boxes which contain her personal affairs and correspondence. We always need more time.


Writing for the web or being read from the web? Or, what’s a log’s worth? My recent reconciliation with other media — print, space, event — this night from 3:30 onwards makes my thoughts go in circles. At 5:30 I have to get up and open a new DevonThink outline and some text documents. One reads apaisement (reconciliation), the other uit ervaring (from experience). Both will live offline. I realize that what I do is to write for the web. But do I like to be read from the web? Do I think that whatever I write for the web is best written for the web and best read from the web? Have I given such any consideration at all over the past ten years? Am I still here because of the same reasons that got me here? Which new qualities of being here have been added over the years? Why would I consider taking part of my life and work elsewhere again? Why did I already do so? Why will I never stop to write for the web?

With the print publication and the installation I reach a different audience through a different format. Format? A typical early information age word. ‘Medium’ wouldn't serve me any better. Screen, page, space, object, wall, floor, light, surface, temperature, smell? Whether what I make is read from a printed page or from an object in space, or from parts of the space itself or from a page in the space or from an event which takes place in that space, like reading or listening or watching a film or play, is a different story altogether from what is read from these documents, that reach you through the Internet by way of the web. Honestly I have not given this a lot of thought over the past ten years. Actually I did give it a lot of thought, yet primarily as a reflection on the interesting new condition of being ‘on line’. But my interest is returning off line, while being informed the way we are, being informed on what networks do and how they get your data to you and how these are shared and updated, written and read etc.

Being enabled with new technologies and media like we are, when we return from data and information network conditions in true Page N Space situatedness of events and experience, while bringing along the network’s knowledge and some of its ‘mechanics’, what will we be looking at?

Being online has become a common condition in ten years time. Remember the Internet sceptic? The media scared? Those who lived in denial? The ones who said it would never work? Those who resisted email? They were numerous in 1992! The horror scenarios of social disintegration and physical alienation they feared? These have all come true and all love it. What will it take them now to return to where they were born?

Yesterday at Geegaw’s I first read about Froogle SMS. The ‘bomb’, voilà La Gaw. Information technology’s ultimate turning to the street, coming to your doorstep not to shove a cable down your throat but to elegantly take you from where you live anywhere you want to go. Go like: in the flesh, by means of displacement, wet ware wise, come out and play without loosing sight of any information out there. Dragging the ol’ network along with you where ever you go, catching that haul, islands in the net? Bring back the here in here. Mobility rules, it’s safe to unplug now.


Et nos visages, mon cœur, fugaces comme des photos is the translation of John Berger’s ‘And our faces, my heart, brief as photos’, by Katya Berger Andreadakis, his daughter. I ordered two copies with, one to give as a present and one to keep. Of Guido Morselli’s Dissipatio H.G. I bought maybe 10 copies at the time, some of which I have left to give away. That brilliant book I saved in such a quantity when it was dumped by its publisher the Wereldbibliotheek through De Slegte bookstores.

With Berger’ Faces/Visages it is primarily the joy to have his writing in two languages. On the back cover Christian Bobin adds, in praise of Berger’s ‘twelve voices to name his love’:

Celui qui aime est en exil dans son amour. Jamais il ne rejoindra celle qu’il aime, (...) Je te découvre dans tout ce qui t'éloigne. Je te rejoins dans tout ce qui me manque.

How pleasurable can it be to have your writing translated by your offspring? What would it be for a son or daughter to delve inside his or her parent’s mind, into those niches that are not obviously shared between generations? Examples of close parent/child professional collaboration, beyond X-and-Son? Gregory Bateson/Mary Catherine Bateson; David Crosby/James Raymond. I must be overlooking some obvious examples. Any suggestions?


Had e-nough? logoot een t-shirt dat me in 1995 van overzee werd toegezonden, in dank voor mijn reactie op het verzoek van de Amerikaanse softwarestudio ‘Persistence’ (‘volharding’... en inderdaad zitten ze nog in de dotcom branch, ‘building successful commerce sites, not coining new e-words’) tot het mailen van een flagrant voorbeeld van e-uforie over de i-nformatisering. Welk e-superlatief ik aanbood ben ik vergeten, maar er is nog steeds volop keus. ‘Had e-nough’ was maar een vroege waarschuwing. Het shirt draag ik vooral bij tuin- en onderhoudswerkzaamheden. Sinds we echter ‘internet’, met een ‘i’, in plaats van ‘het Internet’ schrijven en een e-cultuur de i-nformatisering heeft verdrongen, moeten we onze vlucht met alle middelen wegen. Marina de Vries zet in de Volkskrant van vandaag mijn zaken kritisch op een rijtje. De tijd gaat tegelijkertijd vooruit en achteruit en staat stil, voor wie maar wil. Materiaal veroudert, vervalt of wordt in enige vorm geconserveerd, afhankelijk van onze bedoeling ermee. De betekenis die we aan de ruïne hechten herstelt niet het object, maar ons vertrouwen in een tijd die zowel voor- als achteruit verstrijkt, en op vele plaatsen rust. Het vertrouwen in de tijd, in een eigen tijd en in het natuurlijke verloop ervan, kan ongegeneerd vooruitgang, achteruitgang en stilstand waarderen. Er gaat geen dag voorbij of het verleden eigent zich hebzuchtig het heden toe, terwijl een volgend heden gulzig hele stukken toekomst naar binnen werkt. Daar heb je de kunst nauwelijks bij nodig. Maar zoals de door mij graag geciteerde kunstcriticus Dave Hickey ons voorhoudt: het stomme object dient om ons aan de praat te houden, niet in de eerste plaats aan het woord, maar vooral ook bij de les te houden. Die les lezen we van het (school-)bord en van het scherm, van het doek en van het celluloid, van papier, uit de krant, natuurlijk, ook.

In tien jaar kan een hoop bedorven raken. Als een natte krant van gisteren is de publieke opinie het afgelopen decennium tegen ernstige houdbaarheidsproblemen opgelopen. Blootgesteld aan een opeenstapeling van misverstanden en inschattingsfouten over de i- van i-nternet en i-nformatisering en de e- van e-conomie en e-cultuur, zwalkt een ernstig beschadigd gezond verstand tussen de politieke en sociaal-culturele aanbiedingen door, zwelgend in de nieuwe i-consumptie. Nederland wordt moreel verscheurd onder invloed van vreemde zogenoemd allochtone en nog vreemdere autochtone culturele voorkeuren. De burger wordt daarbij door een zittend bestel in de armen van nieuwe verkeerde vrienden en vijanden gedreven en aangemoedigd om moreel minstens 50 jaar ‘terug in de tijd’ te gaan — een onmogelijkheid, voor wie dat nog niet wist. Terwijl een eigentijds bewustzijn zich sinds T.S. Eliot’s Tradition and the individual talent (‘Traditie en persoonlijkheid’, Kok Agora 1988) op vanzelfsprekende wijze in het verleden en de toekomst nestelt, staat ook in Nederland de stok van lineariteit en morele eenkennigheid opnieuw achter de deur.

Richard Lanham’s The Electronic Word; Democracy, Technology, and the Arts kocht ik in 1993 als hypercard stack op een floppy disk. Het betoogt dat de introductie van de computer vooral een culturele revolutie inluidt. Niet lang na de aanschaf van de electronische versie kocht ik ook het boek, dat inmiddels stukgelezen is. Floppy drives zijn in geen velden of wegen meer te bekennen.

The most powerful influence of the computer on modern thinking, I would argue, is not statistical or scientific, but humanistic. Rhetorical, in fact. Precisely as the rhetorical practice of declamation put dramatic rehearsal at the center of classical thought, the computer has put modelling at the center of ours. (...) And again we find a counterpart in that range of postmodern art which constitutes itself from self-conscious happenings.

Professor in de retorica Lanham centreert zijn argumenten rond het idee van de ‘oefening’, de rehearsal, en het ‘model’. De koets is een model, de winkelmodellen zijn prototypes, het behang is gemodelleerd naar NQP weblog-achtergrond, het 16 milimeter media gordijn kleurt het zicht op de stille ateliers van Max Ernst en Jean Arp... De werken zijn model èn ding in één en doen ons zowel naar als ‘door’ ze kijken. Die dubbele blik op/door het object — at/through vision bij Lanham — typeert voor hem terugkeer naar de retoriek in het postmoderne bestel. Een zelf-bewuste en zich binnen artistieke tradities modellerende eigentijdse kunst verschijnt in interactie met de dagelijkse werkelijkheid, en manifesteert zich met wisselende strategiën en met wisselend succes als symbolische orde. De kunst eigent zich daarbij minder een isolement in de ruimte toe (de roemruchte ‘splendid isolation’ van de ‘white cube’ werd in de museumwinkel zo goed als opgeheven), dan dat het meer en meer een luchtig isolement in de tijd schetst, bezijden de doordravende designer-actualiteit van de massamedia. In de kunst beleggen we de tijd om aandacht te besteden aan die oriëntatie op de hedendaagse werkelijkheid, die door andere disciplines niet wordt opgebracht. Kunst neemt de tijd om te oefenen — om zich te oefenen, om ons te oefenen. Kris-kras gaten in de tijd te bouwen en houwen moet daarbij een dagelijkse routine worden.

Kunst zet tot oefening aan. Tot die ontdekking moest ook ik (weer) komen. ‘Almere’ draagt daar veel aan bij. Oefeningen die dit ‘weblog met de onuitspreekbare naam’ jarenlang bezorgt worden dan plotseling tastbaar, winnen in de bijzondere zeggingskracht van de materialiteit, in een omgeving die zich zowel naar status als naar aard van de bedrijfsvoering richt op het volgen, stimuleren en aanbieden van een samenhangende proces van maken, presenteren en informeren. Mijn articulatie. Het lijkt het Internet wel! Ik herhaal nog maar eens Tim Berners-Lee:

(...) this all works only if each person makes links as he or she browses, so writing, link creation and browsing must be totally integrated.

Sommige ideeën en objecten adelen met het verstrijken van de tijd. Naar Internet-jaren gemeten duurt een decennium een eeuwigheid. Daarom zien we in de nieuwe media bepaalde culturele processen zich in slechts tien jaar veredelen. De explosie aan journalistieke/philologische publicaties op het Internet is hiervan het meest sprekende voorbeeld. Oefening wordt op oefening gestapeld en aan oefening gelinkt. Het ‘duivelse verbond’ waarover Marina de Vries schrijft zal in de uitbreiding van zulke informatiserings-oefeningen gestalte moeten krijgen. Natuurlijk zie ik zelf al een paar aanzetten, maar na een zorgvuldige en af en toe mooi geformuleerde kritiek (‘hij beeldhouwt een gordijn van 16-mm filmbeeldjes, dat ritselt van de menselijke aanwezigheid, drukt een boekje voor de dolende geest...’) ben ik niet ongevoelig voor dit argument. Ik kom er waarschijnlijk het beste aan tegemoet als ik niet weer tien jaar wacht met een volgende installatie.


ExE publications get snailed out, 128gr. each, at 1€90 for France; 3€40 for NL and other EU, also UK; 5€20 for the US.

Meanwhile I add a documentary file to the site, for an impression of the installations at the museum.


18 ecrevisses

Franck and Corinne teach us how to get crayfish from our pond. We haul 18 in a couple of hours. We learn to discern the male from the female and how to pull their guts by twisting their tail. It's an amazingly simple catch, using a balance, a round net, with a piece of meat or fish in the middle. Pull when you see them sit on it. We did have no idea that this lives in our waters. While we invite dear guest L. to Vezelay tonight for her birthday, to attend Mozart’s Requiem at the Vézelay Basilique, she gets more shares of local color. A stolen car ends up in the meadow total loss, broken front axis, broken steering wheel, with some loud discussions across our D23, at 1:30 when we prepare to go to bed; the fruit we pick and collect is plentyful, then there's the crayfish, the concert by the Cologne Philharmonic led by Volker Hartung, afterwards picking up R+r asleep at F+C’s. The next day we do more fruit and cheese, gardening, brick laying. We relax along with L. who is over for a first time since we moved here.


Ned Oldham Anomoanon's The Derby Ram grows on me. Man! They are like the Dead, and more, they rock. Soon they'll issue another collection called Joji. WEIN? Other news includes my best interest in ExE, preparing something like a portfolio part at the domain. Soon linked here.

Sage, Rosemary and Thyme (Oldham). The smell of wild peach chutney floats up from the downstairs kitchen. Gil is at it. Conserves. This afternoon is entirely spent with Florence and Patrick, where we go for a drink at 1pm. Remember, we do long intense lunches, we have to drink before and during. It's not like in your country.

Some of which made me realize that, while everyone these days has a go at ‘authoring the city’, it is precisely in the global rural areas where I'd expect major change to happen over the coming decades. Large parts of it will still serve as Monsanto’s backyard from where cities are fed, while other parts shall feed altogether different change.


slettebak; proefverlof; rekenmethode; slagorde; Karolingisch; dwangneurose; alvleesklier; tegenpool; teelbal; trafo; kroos; kot; mild; draagvlak; therapeutisch; halfslachtig; overbodig.


carriage installation

To return to or leave for the past, in order to arrange for it to unroll as to secure the future. Ehm. What if? Remember when you wondered what if your parents would have not got together and what you would be like when resulting from another relationship? What if? Good question. In order to invest in that one future, you know, the one that you are facing, what if?... Take another turn. Take up another pro-ject. That's what I liked most in Zizek: he puts forth the ‘what if’ question and insists on what if indeed.


nqpaofu 1998-2004 pixel bar print display

same pixel bar scroll as below, different lay-out,
different bgcolor, different resolution, different ground
Full Moon Hot Sun welcoming by Captain B. over Moulin mono, live at the Theatre Royal, London, 9 June 1974. Didn't get to buy a new 2nd hand amplifier for the bureau, where I return this bleak sun permeating early Monday morning to reflect on NL events, return to the keys of Macedelica, put back where it lives, sitting on its messy desk.

The mid-presentation opening of ExE gathered dear friends around the table, spanning some 45 years of rencontres/racontage. A. sends a thank you mail this morning, stating that she had a great day, as a result of which she ‘failed the opening’... — a compliment to anyone who hates the one-trick vernissage networking opportunity. It goes to prove that our opening disguised as a family-that-plays-together-stays-together event has succeeded. Around 5 o’clock more significant others gradually filled the rooms, sat themselves at the table, which continued the feast in a changing setting, till around 8 we wrapped things up. Marjolein had invited the remaining guests to meet at their place, which allowed for a more intimate and direct continuation of the afternoon, while our bed in the backyard chalet only’s a stone's throw away.

Little Girls Little Boys Never Get Old; 1953-2004 shareholders. Contemporaries.

The past NL fortnight has been work. Thu.23. and Sa.25. highlights include Zizek and Bon.


States of emergency revolve around the poetics and the politics of (the) image/imaging/imagination. Or: why would morals apply to image which do not apply to words? At its least interesting the event at SMCS boils down to word/image arm wrestling and name naming, at its most interesting, e.g. with Anselm Franke, both word and image turn into ghosts which haunt make-believe politics and political action. True to his own duty of ‘politics’ obligatory ‘universal’, Slavoj Zizek appears to be the most engaged/engaging speaker.


Other tunes to pitch to, brought home from NL: Wilco’s latest, A ghost is born, barking guitars pounding drums and bass, shy voice, jumpy piano, very good album so far; Ned (from the family of idiosyncratic) Oldham/The Anomoanon’s The Derby Ram, 2004 as well, zap to 1969, King Crimson’s first, ‘Best Price’ In the court of the crimson king, and back in time, Bartók’s Orchestral Works by the Hungarian State Symphony (today: ‘National Philharmonic’) Orchestra conducted by Adam Fischer, and a gift by Jurriaan van Kranendonk at the opening: Ned Sublette and Lawrence Weiner (ed.) Monsters from the deep.

nqpaofu 1-89 pixel bar diagram
img src="../2004imgs/nqpaofu-1-89-pixelbar.jpg" width="671" height="188" border="0" alt="nqpaofu 1-89 pixel bar diagram

NQPaOFU 1-89, 22 March 1998-24 September 2004

Above pixel bar consists of screenshots of NQP #1-89, reduced at 6/979 pixels width per issue. Another batch on my hard disk contains the jpgs for a printed NQP display at ExE, in strips 40mm wide at a 350dpi resolution. It feels kinda strange to realize the time compressed in those bars. 6 years and a half. What rhythm to read from those colored dots? What kind of attention? Can't tell if it is Total Gibberish or Quality Attention... or an extra-vagant coincidence of both.

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