2026
de rommellade,
online research collective combining creative writing with accedemic research.
De rommellade filled with: understanding to understand
links in this collection:
- https://www.thedial.world/articles/news/issue-22/duolingo-language-learning-fluency
- https://www.whitechapelgallery.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/Publication-Bart-Lodewijks-White_Lines-sm-2.pdf?_gl=1*4jj4ko*_up*MQ..*_ga*MTAwODUxNTIxMS4xNzgyMjI0ODg0*_ga_W376J5T1QX*czE3ODIyMjQ4ODMkbzEkZzAkdDE3ODIyMjQ4ODMkajYwJGwwJGgw
still, we plant,
garden exhibition curated and marketed by me
Working with six students from February to April, I developed the overall concept and theme through research into the garden where the exhibition took place, while curating and organising the works into the space. I designed the exhibition’s poster and zine, wrote the introduction text, and organised a planting ritual that brought the artists, visitors, and garden together.
opening statement,
Hope can feel like a big word to use. We say things like “I hope I fall in love,” “I hope I become rich,” or “I hope tomorrow will be better than today.” It almost feels like something that can run out, like a bottle that gets emptier the more you use it. There’s this quiet worry that one day there might be no hope left at all, and nothing to hold on to anymore.
It can take many forms: praying, wishing, blowing a fallen eyelash, burning a candle, looking at the sky, talking in your head or screaming it out loud. These small acts of hoping are something we all share, whether in secret or out in the open. Sometimes they are barely visible, sometimes they take up space. But they are always there.
Hope is often understood as something passive, something you wait for. As if it belongs to the future, and not to what we do now. But maybe hope is not about waiting at all. Maybe it is something you practice, something you choose to do, even when you are unsure of the outcome.
“All that we do in the garden relies on hope for the future, hope that what we will have planted will thrive. That next year will be even better than this one, that the world will be habitable and kind to our garden, even long after we have gone.” David Cooper's book a philosophy of gardens
In a garden, hope becomes something physical. It asks for action. You put something in the ground, you take care of it, you return to it. You don’t know if it will grow, if the weather will change, if something will survive. Still, you plant it.
Hope here is not a wish for a perfect result. It is a decision to invest in something that might not work, but could. As described in David Cooper’s writing on gardens, it is an active and informed bet on the future. A way of believing that with care, attention, and time, something can become more than it is now.
Planting something is a small gesture, but it carries belief. It says: I am here, and I am willing to imagine something beyond this moment.
This exhibition starts from that idea.
uitwaaien
screenprint on crêpe paper, a3
exhibited at huidenclub
“uitwaaien” at the beach, letting go of routine within another routine. Every summer in July, going to the beach becomes its own temporary normal. Traditions like searching for shells or making crêpe paper flowers become part of the rhythm of that week.
“uitwaaien” for me is not just about letting go, but also about returning to something familiar
2025
“nieuwe” buren,
Screen print on paper, 3 × A1
For this work, I photographed several people from my new neighbourhood. You'll see people I’ve met and begun to form connections with. By overlaying each portrait with dots, representing the number of times I’ve interacted with them, this piece tries to visualize the early stages of building a sense of community.
"perspectieven van binnenrotte"
On Tuesday morning, on the market at Binnenrotte in Rotterdam, I made field recordings to capture how the environment is constantly shifting through sound.
Moving from one "sound cloud" to another, creating different perspectives.
huis-genoot
photo emultion lift on canvas A4
opsteken
digital photography and video, with online collage
16-20
risoprint A4 and digital photography
same phases same patterns
same phases different skirt
growing up together, navigating the same big life changes-yet experiencing them in entirely different ways
2024
ik draag 19-10-2024
screenprint, fabric and digital photography A1
Why do we wear what we wear? A specific day, a specific outfit? Today, I am wearing trousers, not to be naked. Today, I am wearing a t-shirt, not to be naked. Today, I am wearing socks, not to be naked.
Today, I wear a "outfit" to look good.
FWFC+H54 London, United Kingdom
(51.4738964, -0.0795607)
digital photography, paint and cutouts on cardboard 4xA3
KNIKKERBAAN
Collage, installation, and sound work
Variable dimensions
A two-day residency at art hub, bringing Deptford inside the studio
An installation constructed from images of everyday objects from Deptford. The work explores how recognizable forms, when removed from their context, acquire new visual and spatial understanding.
2023
.jpeg)
identiteitskaart
photography and handwritten text, identity card format
A series of portraits made in London. Each participant was asked the question: “What makes you unique?”, and wrote their answer in their own handwriting. Alongside this, they provided their name, age, and fingerprint.
2022
The Rooms of Communication
string sewn into paper
Inspired by my essay on colors with language: "The Primary Colors of Language".
"Een taal zonder sociale drempels, zonder het idee
"gecanceld" te worden het eerste moment dat de woorden je mond verlaten. Een taal zonder voorrangswegen en zebra paden voor politiekcorrecte antwoorden, maar een lange weg van ongefilterde woorden en zinnen."
"Onze taal bestaat uit eindeloos verschillende kleuren.
De kleuren die woorden vormen tot zinnen, die weer individuen zoals jij en ik, goed kunnen vernietigen.
Misschien is vernietigen een groot woord maar je kan als persoon in deze kleurrijke samenleving toch iemands leven flink veranderen met het gebruik van slim gevormde zinnen. Ik heb altijd geleerd dat als je alle kleuren met elkaar mixt je bruin krijgt, niet echt een vrolijke kleur als je het mij vraagt. Dus als we nou gewoon afspreken dat we het houden bij de primaire kleuren? Duidelijk en zonder het gesjoemel met licht, donker, warm of koud. Gewoon zeggen wat je moet zeggen."