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I'm sorry I've wasted your time.
Goodbye  Christian.

Update

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I will be attending Kotroute a la Burlesque in Antwerp the 18th of November, 2010. You can find me at Begijnenstraat 62. With a small pink flower in my hair. And presenting my new painting 'Bonnie Pink'.

Patience

Dear Patience,
Only once or twice I've seen your angelic locks not tied up in a bun
Rowing your playful fingers through acrylic streams
In between funny discussions with your friends about how silly everything is
Endlessly I'll hear your sweethearted voice in my weary head
Never let anyone bring you down. (Fanboy)

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'Patience -detail', 2009, oil on canvas, 135x95cm
'Masters of reality -detail', 2010, oil on canvas, 110x170cm

Expo Antartik, march 2010

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Pics from the group exposition Antartik, Patience/The Apprentice/Nightshop shown at campus Artesis, Antwerp, march 2010.

Excerpt Shadow of the Vampire, E. Merhige, movie, 2000.

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"Can he even remember how to buy bread? How to select cheese and wine? And then he remembers the rest of it. How to prepare a meal, how to make a bed. He remembers his first glory (...) and what he is reduced to. The loneliest part of the book (Dracula) comes, when the man accidentally sees Dracula setting his table."

Preview

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'Are you a dreamer or part of the dream?', 2010, oil on canvas, 110x200cm (work in progress)

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Ssshhht... I would like to reveal to you an early glimps of my latest work. It's been said that when one is confronted with my paintings, one feels a bit lost, in the sense that there isn't any explicit communication going on. This is correct, for my interest goes out solely to the act of painting. Moving from one picture to another requests but a poor excuse. An idea comes from something that has recently happened to me. It's like this: I catch fireflies, conceal them in my hands and I make you look and tell me they are beautiful. 'Are you a dreamer or part of the dream?' is a work that reflects on myself dealing with people who try too hard to understand me.

October

My lovely mazzy star,
how are your mornings, mid-days and nights? It's been a little time now and I wanted to tell you that I miss you. We might not ever have enjoyed a lot of moments together, or maybe I'd just wished there were more, but you leave me wondering how I can see you in my dreams.

It's autumn again. I remember you were wearing your hair down. In the school library, you hopped from behind my book. I felt close to you that day. We sat next to each other and pageturned books we thought worthwhile. At night, I dreamt that I should've kissed you then, but I know you would've suckerpunched me. You're so great and I love you so much. Forever yours, Sonneilloon.

Short stories of distance

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'Short stories of distance -sketch', 2010, pencil on paper, 4,3x5cm
'Short stories of distance', 2010, oil on canvas, 140x170cm

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I wish I knew how to comfort her, my social skills are very poor. It was the week before our first big evaluation moment and she was feeling nervous. She often needs a little push. I'm telling her "everything's going to be allright" over and over again, because I don't really know what else to say. We give each other hugs and I held her for at least seven 'mississippi's'. I like to think of her as my twin.

I wish I wasn't so black inside. One of my former teachers was explaining to his pupil, who has a marcel-duchamp-kind of artistic pace, that she should reflect her personality more extreme in her painting method. He compared her lightness of the mind to mine. I like her very much, she always tries to make me smile.

I wish I could have my very own 'Black Goddess Rises'-limited-edition-from-1994-longsleeve. The closest to owning one was painting one. And I did once more in the following "Others like to see the world".

I wish I had more confidence painting large figures.

Art hurts

When I was in my second bachelor year in art school, Sint Lucas in Antwerp, I felt very much alone. The girl I befriended most during the previous year had switched schools and I didn't had any real connection yet with the rest of the group. Nevertheless, I've gotten used to seeing their charmes every morning and, I think, they were open to have me around as well, especially because that period I was acting very silly. "How does the room in your head look like?" and 'How would you bring this outdoors?' the questions were posed. The difficulties met on our individual artistic paths led to create a warmer working space. Helas, more departures of fellow students who were at their end followed. I was alone in the atelier, when a girl came in to pack the last of her painting materials. We've had a chance to talk and say our goodbye's. She left with a smile, but this also made me feel very very alone. That's when I wrote out on a large cardboard "art hurts".

To my mazzy star

Pilot

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'End credits- study', 2010, color pen on paper, 15x21cm
'End credits', 2010, oil on canvas, 125x160cm

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HiHowAreYou?- I was cleaning my corner of the atelier before the xmas holidays. A friend surprised me with a visit and cared to see my paintings. I've met her a few times during our theoretical courses. She has a bright face and watery eyes. When I showed her 'Colorfield sanctuary', she commented that the geometrical pattern reminded her of tiny doors leading to different unforeseen worlds. About a month later we ran into each other and I thanked her for giving me that new insight to my work. It initiated a serie of works where I play with the concept of one story being captured in another story.

'End credits' basically is a view of a nocturnal sky. Dark clouds above a lonely hill reveal intergallactic mechanics, robots and spaceships. They hover over our planet and check if we're o.k. I call them the 'godfathers'. Coming to this point in the process of the painting, I began to feel liberated. How easily I could be the eyes of the 'godfathers' and register an examplenary scenario of the human nightlife. The result of my thoughts I would then project in light signals. Restless souls try to find peace. He's taking a good night walk. She's picking flowers. She's painting and she's reading. I'm tired by the end of this painting; I portraited myself in a sleeping status.