The escalator was broken. The man needed a hand. He didn’t know that I suppose. He looked to the left where another person was standing telephoning. One hand on the phone, the other gesticulating.
I needed both hands to take the shot. It was freezing cold.

After having a beer, it was only noon, we set off for down town where the traditional fiestas were held. The atmosphere was very calm, however some children seemed a little frightened. People in strange costumes walked by, drinking heaps of beer. Sometimes we could hear a loud explosion. Later that day we had lunch in a restaurant in another village. From that moment we continued traveling and became even more eager for the unknown. Our fear would never stop us anymore until today.

Jan Hoet taught me once that presence is the most valuable and probably only value that matters in art. As art differs not substantially from all that is present I couldn’t agree more.

We want to see things in the right perspective but that is impossible.

I don’t understand gravity. It makes things complicated. Gravity suggests connectedness. But I can’t see it.

This morning I woke up standing. I felt as if everything was the same as always. Lines were drawn on the surface. I heard practically no sounds. I didn’t want to go anywhere. There were no more spots to stand, just this one. During the day nothing changed. I stayed and waited. Nothing happened.

I saw a man making a call, standing in the shade, but probably that was not the case.

It is clear that hard lines divide greater parts in smaller ones. I like these lines as they compose a meaningful view of what could appear as a chaos or a murky swamp. Lines make surfaces. Without lines we wouldn’t exist. Nothing would.

By framing it, you should be able to visualize the absence of spirit and matter. To observe and not to see in the ideal situation.

Very often the difference between outside and inside is getting smaller. However the manageability is always greater on the inside. I think that’s what we’re looking for.