#brouwers

Door Peter Motte, 420 woorden Volgens sommigen is er een fout in de roman geslopen. Hij speelt zich af in Amsterdam, na de tweede wereldoorlog maar hij heeft het over de Zuiderzee en over de vloed die komt opzetten. Die fout intrigeert sommigen en ze vragen zich af of hij dat met opzet zo hebben gedaan. Maar Albert Camus is een Fransman. Hij wist het waarschijnlijk gewoon niet, en steunde op…

Layering is a recurring theme in Kemps’ oeuvre. On one hand, he frequently employs semi-transparent and reflective materials in his work. On the other hand, his sculptures often contain multiple layers – photographic prints are “trapped” in glass, and multiple layers of imagery are overlaid. Additionally, Kemps adds a new layer of meaning through the titles he bestows upon his work.Through his…

Godefroy came into this world in 1822, bearing the name Abraham Nikolaas Smit. However, in 1840, he changed his last name to Godefroy.[1] His career began in 1838, when he joined the Department of Urban Works in Amsterdam. In the same year of its establishment (1842), he became a member of the Society for the Promotion of Architecture, and he even served as its president from 1862 to 1867. From…

With the touch screen as an interface and computer programs that translate and manipulate a simple pen stroke into a digital code, Kleerebezem rediscovered the primary expressive power of line, shape, and color. The frictionless digital liberation of his artistic handwriting proved to be the ultimate condition for the unrestrained lyricism and hybrid media use in his recent works, where he blends…

Gabriella Ventura ci segnala questo grande romanzo testamento di uno dei più importanti autori olandesi. Gabriella a questo proposito ci scrive: “Comico e triste, la fase di un uomo affetto da demenza, ricoverato in una lussuosa casa di riposo. Lettura talvolta faticosa per il flusso di pensieri, ricordi considerazioni ( e’ un monologo) che alternano presente, passato, fantasie.” Dalla…

Nella stanza da bagno. Per una frazione di secondo vedo di sguincio la mia immagine nello specchio, quanto basta per confermare il senso di repulsione nei confronti di me stesso e dell’umanità in generale.

Portatemi via di qui, riportatemi dov'ero prima di esserci e nessuno si ricordava di me.

Cosa vuoi che ti scrivano sulla lapide, mi aveva chiesto qualche tempo fa […]. Le avevo risposto: Mettici Oh, è finita. Meno male.