Do you remember the Beginning? No? Never mind. The second rule-post says we need to find someone, to tell the C.O.s to do something. Remember what or who the C.O.s are? No? Never mind. We should find someone.
I know this is difficult. There are so many people to choose from.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photograph of a cut up of a now dismantled and partly salvaged piece from the front doors of a WAR DROBE – an amalgam of old drawings, photocopies and texts that I thought I would continually add to over time. But DIDN’T. Remember – order needs an architect. Maybe these images will help you FIND SOMEONE.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photograph of a cut up of a now dismantled and partly salvaged piece from the front doors of a WAR DROBE – an amalgam of old drawings, photocopies and texts that I thought I would continually add to over time. But DIDN’T. Remember – I never tell anybody anything. Maybe these images will help you FIND SOMEONE.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photograph of a cut up of a now dismantled and partly salvaged piece from the front doors of a WAR DROBE – an amalgam of old drawings, photocopies and texts that I thought I would continually add to over time. But DIDN’T. Remember – Me, aged 21. Maybe these images will help you FIND SOMEONE.
What does time teach us? Placing remembrances of time over the detritus of other times doesn’t bring much it seems, except more confusion. Who knows? Beware those with answers.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photograph of a glum holiday snap superimposed on a photocopy of a family war record. What do we do with old artefacts and information?
A photograph of a photocopy of a photograph of a private party of bulb workers relaxing. Superimposed on a photocopy of a family war record. What do we do with old artefacts and information?
A photograph of a photocopy of a photograph of a pensive Photocopier waiting for a train. Superimposed on a photocopy of a family war record. What do we do with old artefacts and information?
What does the original matter when you’ve got a copy that cost more? It’s much more fun to be in Doggerland, Doggerland under Sea, where nothing ever matters, to you or to me.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm coloured paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm coloured paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm coloured paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Between the worlds of Post Card and Pod Cast lies a new map of hell. It’s much more fun to be in Doggerland, Doggerland under Sea, where nothing ever matters, to you or to me.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Away from the internet, away from the affray, away from the melting Liquid Crystal Display. It’s much more fun to be in Doggerland, Doggerland under Sea, where nothing ever matters, to you or to me.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a black and white photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
God, the art world bores me. Being an artist? You might as well be an astronaut. It’s all so serious and full of important things to do. It’s much more fun to be in Doggerland, Doggerland under Sea, where nothing ever matters, to you or to me.
Digital photo of a colour photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The colours are courtesy of pencil, coloured inks and water-based colour pencils. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a colour photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The colours are courtesy of pencil, coloured inks and water-based colour pencils. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
Digital photo of a colour photocopy (on 200gsm paper of a freehand drawing (using dip pen and Indian ink) on a postcard made of heavy watercolour paper. The colours are courtesy of pencil, coloured inks and water-based colour pencils. The images depict imaginary inhabitants of Doggerland, a once vast stretch of land that joined mainland Europe and the British Isles. Now it lies under the English Channel and the North Sea. At the time of writing, each original postcard (of a series of 14) is in the post, going elsewhere, maybe never to reach where they’ve been sent; like the subjects depicted on them.
A few weeks ago the Photocopier collated some answers about the sleep life of important professionals in the music business, in the upstairs room of a Groningen pub. Some of those answers (spread over four separate posts) are to be seen here. One can only wonder; what does sleep really mean to us, during our never-ending lives?
The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Russian.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photocopy of a form found in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Belarusian.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photocopy of a form found in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Dutchman.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a pencil drawing. The Photocopier once started drawing images that made him sleepy or had an inherently tiring element to them. These images – taken from various sources (the suffering of WW2 prisoners, young people being young) make him very sleepy.
A few weeks ago the Photocopier collated some answers about the sleep life of important professionals in the music business, in the upstairs room of a Groningen pub. Some of those answers (spread over four separate posts) are to be seen here. One can only wonder; what does sleep really mean to us, during our never-ending lives?
A photograph of a photocopy of a colour photocopy of a drawing. The Photocopier’s friend Charlien asked him about any recurring nightmares he may have. The Photocopier doesn’t like to think of eyes under water.
A photograph of a photocopy of a form found by the photocopier in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Dutchman.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photocopy of a form found in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Slovenian.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photocopy of a form found in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Russian.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a pencil drawing. The Photocopier once started drawing images that made him sleepy or had an inherently tiring element to them. These images – taken from various sources (the suffering of WW2 prisoners, young people being young) make him very sleepy. This particular image is a favourite of Estonian popstar Mart Avi as it reminds him of his grandfather.
A few weeks ago the Photocopier collated some answers about the sleep life of important professionals in the music business, in the upstairs room of a Groningen pub. Some of those answers (spread over four separate posts) are to be seen here. One can only wonder; what does sleep really mean to us, during our never-ending lives?
A photograph of a photocopy of a photocopy of a form found in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a German. I think…
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
A photograph of a photocopy of a colour photocopy of a drawing. The Photocopier’s friend Charlien asked him about any recurring nightmares he may have. This is what he told her. It is maybe a passed on memory from both the Photocopier’s great grandfathers, about what their experiences at Gallipoli were.
A photograph of a photocopy of a pencil drawing. The Photocopier once started drawing images that made him sleepy or had an inherently tiring element to them. These images – taken from various sources (the suffering of WW2 prisoners, young people being young) make him very sleepy.
A photograph of a photocopy of a photocopy of a form found in the office of WORM Rotterdam. The Photocopier asked some of his friends in the music business how they slept. Some of the answers are very revealing, some tug at the heartstrings and make The Photocopier want to illustrate their experiences, others are brief to the point of emotionally stunted. What do these answers hide, or tell?
This is from a Belarusian.
The makeshift questionnaire came to being when The Photocopier found a strange printed set of forms in his works copier; the fields filled with what looked liked a number of stuck keys, specifically z’s and i’s. This seemed appropriate to use in Sleep Life.
Together with two good friends of great artistic repute, the Photocopier has embarked on a new, ongoing project called Sleeplife. Quite what Sleeplife means is anybody’s guess. But the Photocopier and his friends agree on one point: Sleeplife is pretty much all we have left.
Given the subject of sleep has been misunderstood, abused or harnessed into many things over the years that have nothing to do with it – or employed as the courtier to our rampantly egotistical and psychotically-squeezed waking state – it’s maybe time to add to that confusion.
We are all agreed on that.
The first seeds of confusion – and eventual absolution – were sown in a gloomy December week in Brussels, a city with many lives and psychic arteries. Manifestos, explanations, actions, reflections and other artistic or socio-cultural bricolage will all be photocopied and added here; as is my wont.
These posts will show the Photocopier’s modest contribution. The work of Charlien Adriaenssens and Larissa Monteiro are “deep linked”, daddy-oh. They may, or may not post about Sleeplife. Who can tell?
A photograph of a string of photocopies and a drawing imposed on a wall in Brussels Schaerbeek. The photocopies were first stitched together and then sellotaped strategically to the wall (which displayed a treatise on the politics of sex; the remnant of the previous exhibition). Here we see photocopies employed as imps of legend, there to obfuscate, upturn or confuse. No answer need be given. Image sources are: Polish film posters, Czech communist-era toys made from industrial waste, images from the Photocopier’s own imagination and a pencil illustration from a book about the Black Death. Part of the opening – and ending – of the inaugural Sleeplife residency (KAK Brussels, December 8-12, 2019, CE). Next to the copies we see a long strip of wallpaper with the Photocopier’s drawings of skulls and a remarkable silver bear head found at the Residency, denoting frustration at his lack of sleep on the first night. This was taken during the show. The dingy light appeals.
A photograph of a string of photocopies, imposed on a wall in Brussels Schaerbeek. The photocopies were first stitched together and then sellotaped strategically to the wall (which displayed a treatise on the politics of sex; the remnant of the previous exhibition). Here we see photocopies employed as imps of legend, there to obfuscate, upturn or confuse. No answer need be given. Image sources are: Czech communist-era toys made from industrial waste, and an approximation (from memory) of the horses drawn by C19th illustrator, Edmund Dulac. Part of the opening – and ending – of the inaugural Sleeplife residency (KAK Brussels, December 8-12, 2019, CE). This was taken during the show. The light (from a ground light used to illuminate other works) may lend a certain poignancy to the juxtaposition of the slogan and children’s toy and horse drawings.
A photograph of a string of photocopies imposed on a wall in Brussels Schaerbeek. The photocopies were first stitched together and then sellotaped strategically to the wall (which displayed a treatise on the politics of sex; the remnant of the previous exhibition). Here we see photocopies employed as imps of legend, there to obfuscate, upturn or confuse. No answer need be given. Image sources, Czech communist-era toys made out of waste industrial material, photographs of sleeping Soviet children (always sleep on the right side), Polish film posters, extant Estonian cats, and the Photocopier’s own imagination. Part of the opening – and ending – of the inaugural Sleeplife residency (KAK Brussels, December 8-12, 2019, CE).