collage – Tafel

short #18 – moins qu’hier plus que demain

admin — Fri, 21 Jan 2022 23:20:41 +0000

SOUPER V Dialogue Booklet

short #16 – triptych plus one

admin — Fri, 21 Jan 2022 14:37:02 +0000

2020

short #14 – dinner

admin — Fri, 21 Jan 2022 14:22:19 +0000

The conversation during dinner made clear they were thinking about, questioning the Same – be it the ever Very Different. As if they faced the same formula yet to be written. The formula for Change and the way this life or meaning unfolds itself, unfolds the folds of itself.

The beginning was an ending. a dot. a capital letter. in a glimpse. You read. Read me. in a beat without a heart. words without weight don’t last for long. You, wait. waiting doesn’t pay. everything moves past. slow. or late. we are bigger than ourselves.

SOUPER V

admin — Sat, 14 Dec 2019 14:36:35 +0000

SOUPER V took place at Broei, Ghent, 19/09/2020
at Maison Florida, Hasselt, 06/03/2021
at Hacktiris, Brussels, 07/03/2021

IMMERSIVE SOUND INSTALLATION
PERFORMANCE WITH FOOD

in collaboration with Maxim Hoebreckx
thanks to The School, Hasselt; Planeet Mediamarkt and Dauwtrip
with the support of the Flemish Government

photos by Nick Moons and Neri De Meester

short #7 – mots de

admin — Thu, 20 Jul 2017 15:32:54 +0000

“Presque tous les jours, il y a des mots qui disparaissent, parce qu’ils sont maudits. Alors à la place, ou même pas forcément, on met des nouveaux mots qui correspondent aux idées nouvelles. D’ailleurs, depuis 2 ou 3 mois, il y a des mots que j’aimais beaucoup qui ont disparus…” < Alphaville, Jean-Luc Godard

2018

short #6 – my mount

admin — Fri, 09 Jun 2017 20:23:58 +0000

my mount my mount
i’m inside the mountain that is
inside me
to climb higher and higher and
tumble down
i grasp the mountain
mold the rocks and
tumble down
give the mount a name, give
the mount a name and
it becomes a mountain
mother gave birth to a stone
run run run with the rock
run with the rock

Maud Gyssels, My Mount, 2017, sculpture and video; photo © Felix Carpio

short #5 – the Siren

admin — Sat, 18 Mar 2017 20:46:15 +0000

is this the voice that knows it all?
who told you so?
are we not to hear the voice ourselves?
are we not here to make mistakes?
it is the Plenty (capital p) that is never Enough (capital e)
the All that is Invisible
it is this word that arises some place
in the blank void behind our eyes
and for which we hope
it carries us

Lusciously in the Locus Amoenus

admin — Wed, 21 Dec 2016 01:12:41 +0000

Lusciously in the Locus Amoenus is my story about a utopian dream.
A dream in which Aldous Huxley meets Richard Mosse in Bhutan, surrounded by fallic symbols that shift in meaning by denotation and connotation. If I put it on there, will you taste me differently?
I don’t believe in paradise, but I do believe in sustainable developing and maintaining our world. I do believe in pink trees and overwhelming nature, mushrooms growing up the mountains and literature embracing our hearts. “Attention, here and now boys” (cfr. Island by Huxley)
This story doesn’t make any sense, because the world doesn’t.
And with every strive to perfection, there is a downfall, just like Eva picked the apple from the tree, seduced by the serpent in the garden of Eden.
I can see your nipples through the clouds, covered in natural latex. Your tattoos are surreal, little snake.
You are so transparent.
No harm to us all, let live, she said.
Strong women, pink flesh, aiming to fly the world, like Panamarenko could.
Let us put it into words, the world as it should be.
Impossible.

Bhutan

Serpent, 2016 Neri De Meester

short #2 – drops

admin — Fri, 10 Jun 2016 10:16:48 +0000

the flood outside becomes the fire inside becomes the flood inside becomes the fire outside becomes the stream outside becomes the spark inside becomes the stream inside becomes the spark outside becomes the well outside becomes the smoke inside becomes the well inside becomes the smoke outside becomes the wave outside becomes the flame inside becomes the wave inside becomes the flame outside becomes the drop outside becomes the drop inside becomes drop inside becomes the drop outside

short #1 – mud

admin — Sat, 30 Apr 2016 18:59:51 +0000

what are we made of? you asked while kneading the mud. hands mixed the water and earth. we filled the gaps and holes and shaped a head and tail.
we left some space for a warm, loving heart.
I pointed at the creation. this was my reply. it was a prototype for both of us. it would do, at least for a while.
until we wouldn’t fit any longer, until we found our better selves.
if we’re made of mud, to whom belong the hands? you asked.
to the heart, I wanted to tell you, to the heart. I kept silent, pointed at my tailbone wishing something would grow there as a distraction.