19 - 06 - 1986
2007 - 11 BA Rietveld Academy, Amsterdam
2012 - 14 Working, Berlin
2014 - Start MFA Goldsmiths, London
Paintings in delay, undercover in a landscape & making a hiphop video (and learning how to rap)
Do you remember when we first met?
Our first meeting was one of magnetism. Although I must confess my memory seems and feels from time to time as a labyrinth of layers I imagine and over romanticise. I add a soundtrack and place fragments in a more poetic light. Some moments I rewind constantly in my head and play them again and again in slow-motion. Loving them more, embracing them to the veins of their existence.
We’ve met some years ago. You seemed much bigger than I expected or could even think of. You were walking on the left ( constantly ) and I saw you from the right, from where I was observing you with my notebook close to me. My observing increased to a level of scrutiny. It felt as if you were talking to me in echo’s.
I was your cave.
There was só much more, but we saw each other. Only each other. We were resonating to the extreme. The extreme we both adore. I smiled and I felt your inner smile towards me. Our love predominated when I moved by the end of the summer to your skeleton. We had ( and still have ) some stupid, not fairly necessary arguments about pubs. You and your surrounding tried(s) to convince me of the necessity, that this is a huge part of your lifestyle, and that if I wanted ús to work in our relationship, I had to accept this lifestyle. Of course you used your beautiful vocabulary as always. Your accent overwhelms me and I keep falling for it. I told you in my rude vocabulary, as always:
‘ Fuck you, and your lifestyle, I love to get drunk on the street.’ Words I regret ever since, especially because I was screaming and even I noticed my drunk voice and the total lack of class on my side. Although I am aware of the beautiful fact that you love me due to my recklessness and my impulsivity ( reason why I love you even more ) nevertheless I assume it is very reasonable that we argue. We do not agree on everything about one another. But we agree in the same embracement our love for each other. We both know we are capable of achieving so much more, when we are together.
Some weeks ago I got amazingly drunk and wrote you several letters and posted them in the finished bottles of red wine and threw them in the Thames.
I wonder my dear London, did you find my letters full of love and excessively
exaggerated? And if so.. could you read them.
And secondly, could you show me more.
More life, more feelings, drama and joy.
So I can love you more.
Yours sincerely and with all my soul