Sluik thought he was all on his own on top of the hill and alone amongst the snowmen until Senis voice appeared from the dark. In fact he did not notice that voice either. He just assumed it was his own question he heard. So naturally he answered himself and in his own way.
Ha, snowwomen, snowwhite and snowwife, snowmademoiselles, snowbabes, snowbunnies, snowmodells, snowidols, my dear snowgirl... The Popgroup on record Y: snowgirl is on fire!
Ha, would there be no word for a female snowpuppet in any language? The Inuits must have! They have I don't know how many words for just snow. Do Eskimos make snowmen? They have time for that? Are snowmen a whitemansthing? Who build the first snow puppet? Must have been Bruegel's children! Let me introduce you to Adam and Eva Snow-Balls. Does your church allow that? And what about snow on the cross? What has that to do with it?
Did I photograph any women just now? Did I actually think of man or women while looking at them? The double headed one is a pregnant species! One in the beginning, number four or five, had some little ones running around: snowkids...but all boys... There you go!
Sneeuwman met klompen and in German: Schneepuppe, that is female, Die Puppe! In Chinese or Russian or Estonian or Papiementu? Another google-task! ... Snø...Tombe la Neige ! Adamo: LalalalaLalalalalala... Stop Sluik, they are puppets of snowflakes. Not more not less. But what if.
I however did hear the voice and knew it came from another direction than usual. I tried to see where it came from, to see who it was who asked. But despite the white carpet the world seemed too dark for me to deceiver my surroundings. I wonder if it would have helped if Sluik had flashed around with his precious little toy. Of course he did not such a thing and consequently right then I did not get to see the person who spoke. It is not my task to interfere. I only observe. I admit I was tempted to... I was eager to hear the voice again. Certainly it was not a passersby question.
Should I say where we were exactly at that moment? Does it matter? It could have been anywhere where snow falls. So what was all my fuss about earlier you should ask me. And meanwhile I hear you think: it was one of the snowmen talking. Ha, do not make me laugh: they are just balls of snow. I suddenly realize now writing down these recalls and memories that it does not matter who is who. Or am I hurting somebody now? I do not want to hurt anybody but the moment I am aware of that it seems all around me are wounded. We are all injured. I am one of the injured.
I feel I have to give it a rest for a while. Sluik is too busy with not much and other things and Senis is sleeping anyway. I am sure I can be more clear when I continue and not so loosely and summerbirdly like i tend to do now. After all there is no hurry. I realize nobody is waiting for this. That is fine. Oh, I get so easily involved.
Oh, I get so easily involved.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
part 3: black or white, it is all the same to me, is it.
Shortly after Sluik entered the house he returned outside and determined. Less than a year before a man and very close friend Emile Toorop gave him a little digital compact metallic blue Lumix camera. Maybe surprisingly for some Sluik got fond of it very quickly and started photographing practically everything and anything. Things and objects and landscapes and his little family. Emile Toorop explicitly told him he should photograph his sons, so he did.
Obviously he had a self imposed mission of some kind again. The obsessive need to capture and collect like usual. Snow under his feet sounded different this time: harder and resistant or maybe firm and sound? It definitely cracked though. Earlier on he wandered. This time he literary marched up tempo. As if something or one could escape him and the route was planned, approved and signed months ahead.
>The world has expanded! I found new citizens! The ground is invaded today! They must be here by thousands! What are they up to? How long will they stay? Got to catch them all! Collect them and keep them! They are the pawns! Towers and bishops on horses! All off them are chessmen. Got to catch them before they are off. I have to keep an eye on them as long as they are here. They won't run me away! Not this time now I have thought of it in time this time. I have it all under control but I should be quick and stop thinking and brains out.
Sluik seemed restless and nervous, inpatient and hard on excited or better and in the mean time so self pleased with not much. And I was there observing poor him. We tumbled through the snow like a chasing hound dog. Sluik quickly flashed the men in the dark he encountered all over the estate. One, two. I noticed he was afraid for the use of the flashlight to alarm any in the neighborhood asleep. He did not want to get caught. Seven. He photographed in a hurry as if the flash would appear shorter that way. We hurried over the yards and fields discovering yet another of his soldiers. Eight. They seemed to move with him and became what he imagined them to be. Some he straight forwardly disliked and mistrusted and others he felt confident with. Fourteen, fifteen. He disconnected the creators and created the ancestors. In between he hastily whistled a Richman song... ring your bell, ding, ding! Rapid but soft and so out of tune not to wake up any spectators. He wanted to be left alone and in the mean time in the centre of the world surrounded by a crowd who would see it with him. Next catch: twenty one.
You see what I see? Yes, I do. But, you need me to explain. No I don't. Right, and the others see it too? Yes, they do! So we all see the same? Yes! Sure?? Yes!! So, no mistakes, no misinterpretations, no word confusion, no additional explanations needed. Brilliant. Twenty six! We all look and see the same thing! That is good... isn't it?
What am I going to do with the lot? With my new collection of puppets! There must be a market for it. There must be some kind of interest. Somebody out there listening? I just show them as they are. They just real size scare shit out of others. Thirty-two, ring your bell! I obviously do not have to go far and just keep it simple. I discovered the significance of snowmen, know what they are up to, and want all to be witness. They are the thieves of time. They do not take us seriously. We should learn from them!
And that is, I believe, the moment where Senis showed up out of the dark blue and asked him straight forwardly if he had managed to catch a snow-woman as well. I do not think there was an introduction before or a hello or my name is, just:
Caught any women?
Obviously he had a self imposed mission of some kind again. The obsessive need to capture and collect like usual. Snow under his feet sounded different this time: harder and resistant or maybe firm and sound? It definitely cracked though. Earlier on he wandered. This time he literary marched up tempo. As if something or one could escape him and the route was planned, approved and signed months ahead.
>The world has expanded! I found new citizens! The ground is invaded today! They must be here by thousands! What are they up to? How long will they stay? Got to catch them all! Collect them and keep them! They are the pawns! Towers and bishops on horses! All off them are chessmen. Got to catch them before they are off. I have to keep an eye on them as long as they are here. They won't run me away! Not this time now I have thought of it in time this time. I have it all under control but I should be quick and stop thinking and brains out.
Sluik seemed restless and nervous, inpatient and hard on excited or better and in the mean time so self pleased with not much. And I was there observing poor him. We tumbled through the snow like a chasing hound dog. Sluik quickly flashed the men in the dark he encountered all over the estate. One, two. I noticed he was afraid for the use of the flashlight to alarm any in the neighborhood asleep. He did not want to get caught. Seven. He photographed in a hurry as if the flash would appear shorter that way. We hurried over the yards and fields discovering yet another of his soldiers. Eight. They seemed to move with him and became what he imagined them to be. Some he straight forwardly disliked and mistrusted and others he felt confident with. Fourteen, fifteen. He disconnected the creators and created the ancestors. In between he hastily whistled a Richman song... ring your bell, ding, ding! Rapid but soft and so out of tune not to wake up any spectators. He wanted to be left alone and in the mean time in the centre of the world surrounded by a crowd who would see it with him. Next catch: twenty one.
You see what I see? Yes, I do. But, you need me to explain. No I don't. Right, and the others see it too? Yes, they do! So we all see the same? Yes! Sure?? Yes!! So, no mistakes, no misinterpretations, no word confusion, no additional explanations needed. Brilliant. Twenty six! We all look and see the same thing! That is good... isn't it?
What am I going to do with the lot? With my new collection of puppets! There must be a market for it. There must be some kind of interest. Somebody out there listening? I just show them as they are. They just real size scare shit out of others. Thirty-two, ring your bell! I obviously do not have to go far and just keep it simple. I discovered the significance of snowmen, know what they are up to, and want all to be witness. They are the thieves of time. They do not take us seriously. We should learn from them!
And that is, I believe, the moment where Senis showed up out of the dark blue and asked him straight forwardly if he had managed to catch a snow-woman as well. I do not think there was an introduction before or a hello or my name is, just:
Caught any women?
Friday, July 3, 2009
part 2: first to end then begin
Sluik: This is it? Senis: Yes, this is it.
These are the last words said on platform 4 at railroad station Gardermoen Oslo, 7 May 2009, 19.53 shortly before Sluik took a local train into the centre of the city. Alone.
I have been hesitating if I should continue this. I really have been wondering over and over again if there is any use in reconstructing something that is history. From or in the past I mean by that. Oh, history is such a heavy and loaded word most of us get to peep at from a distance or even just hearsay. Who amongst us does get close to it? Yes, Pina Bausch died this week. A person said about her that he thought some people are eternal and just can not die and she was one of them according to that person. People die every day by thousands not leaving much traces and soon they fade away totally. Of course new people are born too. Ha, I sound like Senis when I re-read those last sentences. I guess I have been under his umbrella for a while and too much.
It is behind feasible and verifiable: Sluik was near the Benfica fields the first week of February 2009. I however not and this is why I can not confirm Senis' claim they met there the first time. I know now of their shared admiration for Eusébio da Silva Ferreira and would not be surprised that the claim is right but I just do not know and for that reason I start my story a little later.
So they first met Tuesday 17th of February 2009 on the Natland estate. I do not recall the exact time but I guess it was late in the evening and close to midnight with a hiding half moon, so dark and kind of dreary. Previously that day a load of snow had fallen which covered the valleys and hills. It sucked up the sound from afar and clarified each crisp step made by Sluik in the virginal fresh white carpet while seemingly aimless walking around. It was cold but friendly cold. I guess the carpet kept some warmth as well. Earlier on that day Sluik had build a huge snowball lamp with candle lights on the porch of the backside of his cabin house.
The light which reached far over the land contributed to the seemingly endless warmth spreading over the small mountain that day. He went out for a walk having a presentiment the world had expanded somehow. He did not know what that actually could mean. But he had his sorrows too. Was he ever without that self-imposed burden? Above the crispy sounds of the squeezed snow under his feet I could clearly hear him talking loud to himself in circles in between his practice of whistling indefinable tunes:
I am a bad chess player. I really am a bad chess player. There is nothing that can be done. Live with it. Live in it, I say. Just not capable of looking too many steps ahead. That is it. Bad chess I play. Should not pretend I know the rules. I know some moves of all the chessman... but of the women too? I guess women might be better chess players than men. They just do not show it do they? But is that not exactly why they are the better ones? I am a bad chess player. I really am poor.
Only when he came closer to his cabin he realized he had passed at least a double dozen of snowmen which had been erected by the children during the day.
These are the last words said on platform 4 at railroad station Gardermoen Oslo, 7 May 2009, 19.53 shortly before Sluik took a local train into the centre of the city. Alone.
I have been hesitating if I should continue this. I really have been wondering over and over again if there is any use in reconstructing something that is history. From or in the past I mean by that. Oh, history is such a heavy and loaded word most of us get to peep at from a distance or even just hearsay. Who amongst us does get close to it? Yes, Pina Bausch died this week. A person said about her that he thought some people are eternal and just can not die and she was one of them according to that person. People die every day by thousands not leaving much traces and soon they fade away totally. Of course new people are born too. Ha, I sound like Senis when I re-read those last sentences. I guess I have been under his umbrella for a while and too much.
It is behind feasible and verifiable: Sluik was near the Benfica fields the first week of February 2009. I however not and this is why I can not confirm Senis' claim they met there the first time. I know now of their shared admiration for Eusébio da Silva Ferreira and would not be surprised that the claim is right but I just do not know and for that reason I start my story a little later.
So they first met Tuesday 17th of February 2009 on the Natland estate. I do not recall the exact time but I guess it was late in the evening and close to midnight with a hiding half moon, so dark and kind of dreary. Previously that day a load of snow had fallen which covered the valleys and hills. It sucked up the sound from afar and clarified each crisp step made by Sluik in the virginal fresh white carpet while seemingly aimless walking around. It was cold but friendly cold. I guess the carpet kept some warmth as well. Earlier on that day Sluik had build a huge snowball lamp with candle lights on the porch of the backside of his cabin house.
The light which reached far over the land contributed to the seemingly endless warmth spreading over the small mountain that day. He went out for a walk having a presentiment the world had expanded somehow. He did not know what that actually could mean. But he had his sorrows too. Was he ever without that self-imposed burden? Above the crispy sounds of the squeezed snow under his feet I could clearly hear him talking loud to himself in circles in between his practice of whistling indefinable tunes: I am a bad chess player. I really am a bad chess player. There is nothing that can be done. Live with it. Live in it, I say. Just not capable of looking too many steps ahead. That is it. Bad chess I play. Should not pretend I know the rules. I know some moves of all the chessman... but of the women too? I guess women might be better chess players than men. They just do not show it do they? But is that not exactly why they are the better ones? I am a bad chess player. I really am poor.
Only when he came closer to his cabin he realized he had passed at least a double dozen of snowmen which had been erected by the children during the day.
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