Train

When I opened the door to the compartment and entered, I saw that there were two seats left opposite a young woman. I thought I recognized her, but in the bustle that comes along while entering a train, I figured I could better put my stuff and myself down first before I checked again. If it were her, we could talk. I put my bags on the seat, my coffee on the table and my sandwich next to it. Only after I removed the bags from my shoulder and was getting out of my coat, I saw it.

She was crying.

Shit.

I didn't know her that well. But since I was in the middle of this process, I could not stop and leave. I decided to sit down. Organizing my stuff, flipping through my agenda, drinking my coffee and once in a while peeking at the girl in the mirroring window. It was her. And she was still crying. Softly. Did she recognize me? Would she even know who I was? And more important: would she want me to recognize her?
The voice inside of me yelled: Talk To Her! Ask her how she is doing! Ask if you can help! Because she's not doing ok!
But, what if she didn't want me to say anything to her? What if me saying something would force her into talking to this person she vaguely knew, to share her sorrow with? Would she feel uncomfortable? I would have asked any unknown person I would meet in this situation if I could help, if they wanted to talk about it. But now, I was afraid.

Still flipping through my agenda, I would once in a while look up, choosing a direction that wouldn't involve her in my sight, only to dive into my bok again afterwards.
Though the tears had stopped, she was still sniffing. The problem was that it felt impossible to me to turn the situation around, I couldn't just look up and suddenly recognize her now. And if she had recognized me, she'd know I'd seen her too. So now we were keeping up the appearances and we wouldn't change that anymore. At least, I had no idea how to. I tried to think of things that could have happened for her to sit here like this. But most things didn't seem adequate. It must be something really bad, like a death or someone who got really sick, or some other terrible thing that you wouldn't want to share with an almost stranger.

The sniffing turned into crying again. In the meantime, I'd accepted the situation and I just kept hoping she would get out of the train at the next station, so she could blend in with the crowd and just feel sad without being confronted with my presence.

So I kept silent, and didn't look up when she left the train. But from the moment she disappeared until now, I've been hoping that she knows that my silence was a sign of respect and sympathy, instead of disinterest. And I hope that she's feeling better. Looking back at it, I think I should have said something.
I'm so sorry, vaguely familiar woman! I wish I could have comforted you!

Big Apple

It's easy to dwell in beautiful fantasies about adventures, important events or other future and maybe one day completed projects. But to actually start them, is something completely different.

So it was fairly easy for me, two years ago, to decide to live in New York a year later (2010). I imagined myself drinking coffee with friends in one of the thousand coffee shops, working in a place with a view on Manhattan, and being bored in the subway in the morning, just like all the other commuters on their way to work. After I made this decision, I floated from happiness because I was there again. Half a year earlier, I arrived for the first time, fell in love, and decided to return. On my second visit, I would become emotional every time I realized what decision I just made. This city was about to become my home!

When I returned in Amsterdam, it all wasn't as easy as I hoped. Even trying to figure out all options, cost a lot of time and effort and actually was discouraging. Although, in my mind, I still could see myself drinking coffee with new friends, I found myself biking through Amsterdam, that suddenly looked more beautiful and sunnier than ever. Over the last two years, my love for the city blossomed again, for the cafes and theatres where I drink coffee with friends, for the fact that I can go anywhere by bike, for my work and work location. Well, for the life that I'm living.

Which is always a good time to step back for a while. Not for always, not that long, but long enough to really be away and try other things. Without a job, without a goal. I'm going to drink coffee in New York. I'm going to write, film and live. And if the writing and filming won't actually happen, I'm just going to be there. Because I can. Because my fantasies have become reality, though in a smaller version, and thanks to a lot of people.

The most important lesson? keep fantasizing, but also act! Because who knows, dreams can come true.

Talking Big Apple '75

Jacob tv

Jacob ter Veldhuis is a Dutch composer who doesn't only composes beautiful modern music, but who uses projections, sound bites and other visuals. His last project is called The News, in which he uses and cuts the latest news into an unique music experience. I first heard about him through Grab it, a piece for the electrical guitar that was composed with the sound of the voices of people that were on death row.
It's no relaxing music, not while listening at home and I'm guessing it must be even more intense when you're in a concert hall, hearing their voices, listening to the guitar, and watching these huge projections.

But I really like these combinations, where music and images create a new experience, and therefor are so different from all other concerts where you can just sit back and close your eyes.

And I also like it that he expects something from his audience. Why should a pleasant evening just be easy and relaxing? What I like about evenings that might be a little tiring, is that you probably won't ever forget them. That might be just the only reason why it's actually good that not every concert is so intense. That would eventually create one big pile of unforgettable evenings, and then it'll be hard to find the difference again. So, let's cherish those exceptions and work once in a while during a pleasant evening.

Daily

I am a huge fan of the The Daily Show. For those who don't watch it daily, or on a regular base, on their computer or television: The Daily show, an American talk-show, is hosted by Jon Stewart and his crew, who discuss the - mostly Amercian - news from a left point of view with a lot of humor. The show started in 1996, Stewart hosts it since 1999. One of his reporters, part of The best F#@king News Team Ever, is Stephen Colbert, who nowadays has his own show, that is just as funny, but looks at the news from the right winged point of view in The Colbert Report. Together, both Stewart and Colbert give a funny but also critical view on the things that happen in American politics.

In the beginning, I suspected some creative editors had put together funny clips to create heir own story, but after having seen American television myself, I realized that the news that both The Daily Show and the Colbert Report show, isn't made up at all. One could conclude that a lot of (or maybe all?) the American news channels are much more creative in presenting the truth than the two late-night comedy talk shows.

One of The Daily Shows favorite subjects is FOX News, the main and most right winged news network of the States. After Fox host Glenn Beck organized the Restoring Honor Rally, Stewart and Colbert replied with the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Keep Fear Alive, held last October, with which they tried to reason both the nations media and politicians, to, well, restore sanity. About 215,000 people attended the event.

And now, there's a Dutch edition of The Daily Show that is host by Jan-Jaap van der Wal, who cannot read from autocue and who misses Stewart's timing. His reporters are Daniel Arends and Bas Hoeflaak, who pretend to be 'on location' to talk about something news worthy.
I was looking forward to it.
I've been waiting for a Dutch equivalent for a long time. A show that has a critical view, that isn't afraid and that puts certain things together to give the viewer a new perspective.
But so far - I admit, I've only seen four shows: you have to give it time to grow, all beginnings are hard, it's not fair to compare this show to it's American big brother - their jokes aren't working for me. Why not? Because Dutch news is clumsy. Because I don't want to see pieces of De Wereld Draait Door (another Dutch talk show). Because I can't help searching for Peter van de Witte, when I see his partner Bas. Because it feels like the Dutch comedy world needed a new project and look at how much fun they're having.

I'll wait and see. Maybe it will change. Or maybe mt opinion will change. It could be so great. A Dutch Daily Show.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Bill O'Reilly Defends His Nazi Analogies
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

Scent

Whenever I find myself in the darkness of a theatre performance or film screening, it always strikes me again: all those different scents around me. The man in front of me, who is wearing a delicious aftershave, the hideous perfume of the woman behind me. Sometimes, it's just a little whiff, that quickly passes your nose and never will return. Other times, it's there, whenever you move or get to close to them. Unfortunately, they're not always pleasant scents. Sometimes, it someones sweat, because he or she had to cycle hard to make it in time, or it's a fragrance that doesn't fit the person.

However, my conclusion is that all those scents will determine your perception of the show. Every time I smell something, my thought wander from the performance and I start wondering if I would experience it differently if the scent would be better or worse. And how would it be? Would I like the performance better? Or worse? Would it make me laugh less loud, so I wouldn't bend forward because I'd want to avoid the scent of that person in front of me?

The next thought that always follows is that I really would like to try it. I would love to make a scent performance, in which the audience get different scents while watching something. Afterwards they'd have to see it again with different scents, to see if there's a difference. I know what you're going to say, I'll say it for you: the experiment stops here. Because you cannot see a performance a second time with the perception of the first time anyway.

And so, my thoughts are brutally stopped, because it's impossible to figure this out. Still, my scent experiment always makes me happy. I realize that there is this extra experience in everything you do, that others might not be aware of, but that, in my opinion, definitely adds to the experience! Try to think of it, next time you're in a dark theatre venue. And don't run to the theatre in a hurry, be considerate to others..

Stravinski

In 2000, I volunteered at a special project of the Holland Festival, called Zingaro. It's the name of a company that is lead by a little but very scary guy called Bartabas, who made a theatre performance with horses. They were playing in Amsterdam in March, while the festival is in June but the Holland Festival invited them to play at the Westergasfabriek, which was an underdeveloped part of Amsterdam.


The Gashouder, one of the mail locations, was build like a circus, with sand and cuttings on the floor. Outside they constructed the stables for the horses, the dancers would do their warming up around them. When Bartabas was walking around, as one of the volunteers, you tried to make yourself invisible, so he wouldn't see you and therefor couldn't yell at you. I vaguely remember being in his way by accident and being growled at to move out of his way. he really was scary.

When the audience had taken its seat on the wooden benches and the buzzling sounds slowly silenced, you could softly hear the beginning of the bassoon. A small spotlight appeared int the middle of the arena. A dancer moved. Other instruments were added to the bassoon. More dancers appeared out of the darkness. The music got louder and the dancers left their traces in the sand. And then, when the strings were plucking, suddenly, there were the horses with their amazons. The dancers seemed to defend themselves against the horses that surrounded them. The choreographies mixed. Then, the horses took over the dance.
Everyone who knows Le Sacre du Printemps by Stravinsky, knows about the intensity of the piece, let alone when it's combined with a dance between men and horses.


Several week later, by a twist of fate, I received two tickets to a performance of the Concertgebouw Orchestra, who played the same piece of Stravinsky, cunducted by no other than Piere Boulez. When the bassoon started, I smelled the sand and the horses and with every part, in my mind I saw the dance between men and horses.

In the Zingaro performance, after Le Sacre, they performed the Symphony of Psalms, also by Stravinsky. I'm always remembered of the atonal sounds of that piece when I'm rehearsing with my choir, where we are momentarily rehearsing his Mass. you have to like modern classical music, but if you do, it can move you to tears. Even while rehearsing it over and over again. And once in a while, in that airless rehearsal room, I can smell the scent of sand and cuttings, and hear the sounds of the horses from a disctance.

Trapped

It can be frightening to see how some people are trapped together. Often, they have a -now bad - relationship, where one wants to go and the other one is afraid to be left alone. Or friendships that have nearly died but are still sort of breathing their last breaths. in both cases, the special commitment can be broken, even if it will be hard and painful. It's more difficult though if you're talking about family. Real family, brothers and sisters. They are there for a life time. An invisible bond that connects you to people you might not had chosen yourself to be connected to.
What if that bonds is not only with one of your siblings, but with your twin? The documentary L.A.Raeven, de verbeelding voorbij, beyond the image, shows that dilemma. Not only their fascinating and sometimes even freaky art is being shown, it's more about the smothering and tight bond between the sisters Liesbeth and Angelique Raeven.

The film maker uses a lot of close ups, to literally zoom in on them, to be on their skin. Like they do to each other. They did everything together: being born, growing up, become anorexic, making art. And now one wants to leave, and the other one doesn't want to be left alone.

I noticed how they always say each others name, even when they are alone (though with camera crew) in their home (yes, they live together too). It seems like mentioning the other ones name confirms their own identity. You are Liesbeth, I am Angelique. Their chosen imprisonment doesn't give them any space for love, tenderness, intimacy. Not for each other at least. The only physical contact between them are the three kisses on the cheek when Liesbeth goes on a trip with her new boyfriend. Otherwise, they are always separate, apart from each other. It's like they want to turn away from the other, while it's so obvious that they belong together. Even in the home movies that were made when they were only babies, you can see some of the agitation, the friction that now is there all the time.

I had to stop myself from calling: Run girls! Run! Run into this great world and meet other people! And please, smile!




The film premiered at the IDFA, but can now be seen in a shorter version on Holland Doc.