Noortje de Brouwer

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A curation of living stories

A plot of land, fifteen by fifteen meters, a blank canvas to start or not really blank it had already a shape, a place, a system, a context. So how to work with these givens?

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Consulting, doubting, more consulting, doubting

Discussing, arguing, just starting

Digging, stabbing, spitting, turning, flipping and shaping.

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Waiting

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Waiting

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Looking, feeling, thinking, lying down, standing up. Warmth dripping from the glass.

Through the condensation I see people passing by.
A smell of green, tropical I would say.

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They tell me stories, all their stories, we tell each other stories.

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When I move, it’s recorded, when you move, you are recorded, when things move, it will always be recorded. Is it a battle or a dialogue?

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White roots that hide underneath the grass,
emelten, these legless, grey-brown tube-shaped larvae,

rocks that obstruct your way while you dig.
 Shall I go around it or work with it? Can I decide what stays or goes?

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From A to B, to Z. Back to A, back to 3, going to minus 1, up to level 6 pursuing to a degree, failing, persisting, falling, crawling, jumping, spinning, turning, the bright sun on my back, taut skin, tightening the abdominal muscle, applying power from the back, kneeling, stooping and standing up again.