Pierre Verger and Diana Blok in Cobra, curatorial contrasts

We visited the Cobra Museum on the second-to-last day of photographer Diana Blok‘s exhibition “I challenge you to love me.” This was September 30th, and I only found my notes back today.
We came for Blok, but most of the exhibition on the second floor of the Cobra Museum is devoted to the work of photographer Pierre Verger. The exhibition on Verger is called “The One That I Am Not.”

In the name of Verger’s exhibition, each word begins with a capital. For Blok’s, it doesn’t. And that says a lot.
The exhibition of Verger’s work is, above all, much.

Pierre Verger was an anthropologist who traveled extensively, taking photographs. His images led visitors around the world. He made a lot of images. Some are monumental, but many are primarily ethnographic documentary. And many they are. A tighter selection would have been possible, leading to a more a more exciting exhibition.

We walk on to the exhibition on Diana Blok in the corner of the room—or so it seems. Unlike the exhibition on Verger, Blok’s work is tightly curated, leading to a very interesting tentative exhibition.

Diana Blok has created work around different concepts. Strong images have always been selected based on the themes. Blok’s work is fresh and surprising, sometimes uncomfortable. I find a family portrait of naked sons lifting their naked mothers uncomfortable but wonderfully well-made.

Diana Blok walks around and films the exhibition on her iPhone. She turns I look straight into her camera. Imperturbably, she continues filming, as she should.

Color photographer turned Black-and-White (for this project)

I am massively enjoying making these prints of my black-and-white Polder project. I also like printing in the darkroom but never got to do it.

Before the black-and-white project, I have always photographed in color for no other reason than to limit my options. For more than ten years, I shot with little direction. Consequently, my work is all over the place. I have always liked this, and still do. I do not like to put any boundaries on my work a priori, but at the same time, I wanted to create a more consistent piece of work.

Looking for a more intentional, focused project, I began to analyze the pictures from the past decade and stumbled on my polder landscape pictures. I like a couple of them, but I found for a larger work, the dominating green color became problematic. So, I tried to convert a couple to black-and-white, and I liked the result. So I crawled through my archive and surfaced about 200 acceptable images, which I further edited down to some 40 pictures.

When converting to black and white, you find that some pictures do not work in black and white. B&W needs more rest. Where color may divide a picture into spaces, after converting it into black and white, the result may be a headache of grey tones and forms.

Color pictures, I think, have a closer relation to reality, opening a broader palette to distort that reality and create an interesting image. On the other hand, Black and white pictures can have a more poetic, sometimes dreamy effect. Black and white pictures, I think, need more space and benefit more from careful design-like composition (though I am not a fan of the word composition in photography). That is probably also why snapshot-type pictures work best in color.

Anyway, I searched for some nice papers (a rabbit hole in itself), and a friend advised me to use Canson Baryta Photographique II or RAG Photograpique Matte. Never mind the name. The first is a fine art luster-type paper, and the second is a high-grade matte paper. I started with the Baryta and liked it so much I have not even tried the RAG/Matte. By the way, I am printing on an Epson p600, a good entry-level pro photo printer with good ink.

Here are some results. Needless to say, taking (iPhone) pictures of photo prints does not serve them as it should.

Private property

Can’t help myself finding this a funny a anthropological manifestation.

Walking West aan Zee – Hoorn – Formerum, watching fractals

Yesterday, I walked from our cottage at West aan Zee to Hoorn along the beach, an 8—or 9 km walk. There was a fierce wind in the back and some threatening rain.

I was impressed by the fractal-like figures in the sand, which formed 3D maps of unidentified countries (Which made me think about the barren landscapes of South America and Africa).

I had a great lunch at Kaap-Hoorn, roasted vegetables folded in Lebanese flatbread.

Continued to walk through the dunes and the woods to Formerum. Then, the rain washed me from the street, and I was picked up and brought home by car.

You can always find something unexpected. People dancing on the beach, this time.

Hoorn, Terschelling, a walking island and an ugly watch

What was a white beach in my youth – 45 years ago – now seems to become an illustration of a walking island.

I once lost one of the first digital watches here—a Trafalgar with red numerals that lit up only when you pressed a button. My father had gotten it from a colleague, who had gotten it as a business gift but thought the thing was too ugly—something like the one below. Very ugly indeed.

There!

Omaha