This essay reflects on waiting as a way of being. It moves from a quiet moment before a Pilates class, through memories of blossoms, poems, and missed expectations, to objects resting in a thrift shop. Waiting appears not as delay, but as presence — in making, in daily life, and in allowing time to unfold without expectation.

I often start without an end in mind. I work with what is already present: the place I’m in, the tools I have, the material, my own strength and mood. By breaking familiar patterns—sometimes gently, almost invisibly—I discover new possibilities. A work is never truly finished; it keeps shifting, waiting to be reopened, seen and understood anew.

A reflection on care, frugality and mildness, about finding meaning in what already exists, how materials become whole in the right context.

Sleutels als zoektocht naar waarheid en context. Van Rilke tot mijn expositie in Warmond.

The image above is a tongue-in-cheek take on beauty ideals—a fashion moment with a crow on my head—or rather, on a wire cage. The text on...

What does homeland mean to you—Visualizing-your-ideal-sense-of-place-in-2025 #Belonging

Growth is like a snail’s shell: a spiral of trying, reflecting, and beginning anew. What lessons has your journey taught you?

This summer atmosphere of "back to school," of sweet children and trustworthy parents, securing safe-artistic-growth, is superb.

Alone in The Hague at 1979, my art bloomed in solitude, revealing colors of loneliness, primulas witness a quest for connection.

Stepping out of the café, the sharp scent of cigarette smoke instantly transported me back to those carefree summer days.

about the delicate balance between human intervention and nature's autonomy and where we stand in shaping the world around us. 🌿🎨

Wearing headphones all day, not listening. People think I'm unreachable. Reminds me of hiding in the attic. Needed a mute button back then!