It is stupid and pointless to start comparing suffering. There is always someone who had it shittier than you, usually even closer than you thought. But reinforcing the delusion that writers and poets can live off their royalties, when that is literally true for less than one per cent of professional literary authors, shows little empathy.
My friend informed me of his decision to stop writing prose. There was no dry bread to be earned from it. Going forward, he went through life as a freelance journalist and lyricist. The money he earned he spent music festivals
I understood the dilemma. If the violinist renounced her old violin she was acting contrary to her pure nature. It felt like infidelity.
Since this week, I know the difference between a 12-year-old child and a 50-year-old man. That is, as far as I am concerned. When I was about 12, I demonstrated with my mother against the road through Amelisweerd. It was bliss to walk through town among all those people. A demonstration is a...
I started temp work at a time when you were somewhat of a dickhead if you were a student or had just studied, because the corps ball imitation of Jiskefet was so unprecedentedly popular. So a common greeting among regular employees who wanted to be nice was 'Hey dick! Fucked?'
In the real world there is a second, virtual reality, so multiform, intricate, deep and ramified that you hardly get around to real life when you dive in, but I generally take that second world just a little less seriously.
Since everyone advised him to just give it a try, he signed up with almost a thousand amateur painters to learn the ancient craft of painting in six months and under the watchful eye of Pieter Roelofs, head of Painting and Sculpture at the Rijksmuseum, among others.
Virus draws a clear dividing line between those who found love and those who are still looking.
Insayno was city poet for two days - you involuntarily think of that commercial in which a temp says at his grand farewell party, "It was two fantastic days" - and in doing so probably set a record as the shortest-serving city poet in history, with one city poem to his name ("sister of the capital"). What was the problem?
My mouthpiece is non-medical. I like the idea of that. Because as a result, my mouthguard creates a false sense of security. And when I have a false sense of security, I am much more vigilant than with real security.
As a child, I played the piano moderately for years on a large, tattered Kaps from Dresden. The instrument eluded me when I went to college, as it proved impossible to get the thing up the stairs in my first independent home, one of the HAT units in the Boekhoven building on Breedstraat.
Disturbing reports, over the past few days, in various media. First, there was Patrick van IJzendoorn in De Volkskrant, who observed that life had moved away from London's business heartland. I saw a few confusedly delighted reactions come along from friends on my cultural timeline. After all, the article made a clear connection between the closure of museums and theatres and the...
The best book I know is called Arthur, King once and for all. That is, that's the name if you buy the latest translation by Jolande van der Klis. Everything you need to know about the world is in this book. It begins like a children's book - I started reading it too when I was a boy
94-year-old Jan Hoek from Rotterdam wrote a letter to the youth that everyone will have read by now - there has not been so much attention paid to a message from an elderly person since that string from Terlouw's letterbox. That message is sympathetic and clear: young people, just hang in there a little longer, for our sake, then you can...
In the second half of the 1980s, when Wim Deetman was still a cheese soufflé and many Utrechters of my age wore kletter vests with broken rifles, it was very easy to know what you were against. This was because of a few clear principles: anyone on the right was bad. Christians were stupid, hypocritical and scary. Anyone who rented real estate...
Over seven years ago, I started as house poet at Sven Ratzke's Late Night Show in Utrecht's Blue Hall. It was a special time. Not for Sven, who probably came into the world singing and wearing designer clothes through a curtain of peacock feathers and imitation ermine fur. For him, the sultry, permanently ramming sold-out nightclub show was cut-and-dried. For...
A school friend was a mountain climber. He was good at it; he never did anything else in holidays. The school friend was tall and so strong that he could pull himself up by one finger. On the first day after the autumn holidays, he told me that another climber in his group had fallen to his death before his eyes. If I remember correctly, he was alive...
What is the similarity between recorder player Lucie Horsch, pianist Nynke Eekhof, oboist Dorine Schoon, singer Tim Akkerman, this Music Storyteller and many others. What binds them apart from the music? They open their mouths. Give an insight into life behind the scenes. By speaking out in newspapers (Eekhof and Akkerman), on platforms, within organisations and via blogs...
On 4 June, the Council for Culture issued its opinion on the subsidy applications of cultural institutions in the so-called basic infrastructure. The Council for Culture is the legal advisory body of the government and parliament in the field of art, culture and media. The Council advises on current policy issues and subsidy applications, solicited and unsolicited. It is very worthwhile www.raadvoorcultuur.nl af...
I have always found the Q to be a nice fresh thing. Now unfortunately I am not a synesthete, but my imagination tells me today that the Q feels cheeky. Sounds nice and succinct. The Q qlaps into my qeel and is punchy blue. Or shiny. Not ordi, but tough. Of shiny metallic seventies leather. The Q in a catsuit. Supple now plays...
Men of colour in public spaces have no value. Their lives and well-being mean nothing. Muhammed Ali said something about this very early on: 'We are not second class citizens, that would actually be great. We are last class citizens, just not human enough.'
Of course, it takes Italians to make this poetic statement about the Netherlands, the headline of this article. The old Italian saying refers to the carillon that signals time in public spaces. Typical tradition of the Low Countries. Since the fourteenth century. Nice and practical, of course, because then the whole city knows what time it is. Does everyone hear hits from the...
Whether the 'cry for culture' ten years ago was the best response to the cuts announced then, I don't know, but just like then, I feel the urge to do something now. In response to a spontaneous statement of mine on Facebook, a still modest group of people emerged this weekend willing to commit to an idea...
When corona measures were declared on Thursday 12 March, it felt surreal at first. The next day, the world premiere of Willem Jeths' opera Ritratto fell through. I had been looking forward to this immensely, just like all the other productions in the Opera Forward Festival. Besides, I was in the midst of preparations for numerous introductions the next...
Naturally, I stand speechless along the sidelines watching Dutch art get hit by a 'perfect storm'. Two, maybe three deep depressions crossing each other at the worst possible moment, creating a surge that sinks even the strongest ships. In this case: an extremely weak minister, a cultural sector divided to the bone ...
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