It's December! (minus a day or two) You know what that means, right? CHRISTMAS! Oh my giddy giddy gosh the world is turning too fast, time has been mixed up and I'm getting seasick. How can it be that I am already thinking about Christmas? I don't even particularly like Christmas! It's just another day where the pressure rises high, where you're being forced to have fun and be fun. I don't do magic tricks on command (she said, while stamping her feet). However this year we're trying to do it ol' school with playing games and giving presents. BUT NO TREE OR DECORATIONS. Except for a little bit of glitter or, like, you know, some banting or something and like, Christmas cards and treats maybe BUT NOTHING MORE THAN THAT.

In preperation for 'Santa's big day', here are some gift suggestions from independent businesses to give to independent people (or not. Being independent isn't a criteria for buying these products, money is). Because, you know, no one will die from a little bit of originality... right? *suddenly chokes on a bit of originality stuck in my throat*

Last Sunday me and 'tha gang' went to Antwerp. Why? Why would I leave my house on such a ghastly, windy, horrifying day? Elementary, dear Watson! Educate yourself! Blow up a train! (that is a train of thought: break out of your daily pattern and go out into the wide open world! Explore!). Yes, yes, I know, I know, I've already spoiled my intentions in the previous blogpost, but can't we all just take a step back and be wondrous. Be wondrous of the world. Be wondrous of Antwerp and all the stones they haven't left unturned. Curiosity perhaps? Or renovation work? (Although how do I dare to poke fun at Antwerp, because has someone lately been to Amsterdam? They know how to drill too, I'll tell ya!). Antwerp is lovely and idyllic and -as I said- totally worth a visit... after they've re-turned all of the stones, that is...


So why was I in Antwerp again? Good question! To go to a museum, naturally! And not just any museum, but the ModeMuseum (MoMu). Did you know there are 63 museums in the Netherlands with a costume- and/or fashion collection but there are none, zero, njente actual fashion museums... (with an exception perhaps of Tassenmuseum Hendrikje (bags and purses museum), but like, that's not actual fashion fashion). Interesting, right! Gives you food for thought! (Why no fashion museum in the Netherlands??!). Anyway, the Belgians do have a fashion museum: MoMu! The saviour of all my problems! Because when you're doing research into the way fashion (items of clothing) are being re-presented within a museological environment, you do need a museological environment where they re-present fashion in the first place. As you might understand, an actual fashion museum is prefered above a museum that does fashion on the sidelines. Firstly because a non-specialised museum mostly uses the fashion exhibition in a different way than a fashion museum would (that's generally to say: use it in a way to gain more visitors/attention opposed to their 'regular' exhibitions on pots and pans; which could still be lovely and mind blowing, but the subject in itself is much more 'niche' and less attention grabbing (sorry)). Secondly because non-specialised museums aren't -hypothetically- as involved/up-to-date/specialised in their fashion presentation as an actual specialised museum would be. This statement is based on a comparison between non-specialised Dutch museums and a specialised Belgian museum. I mean, I wouldn't dare to say such a thing about, I don't know, the V&A or the Met. But don't take this in a way that I'm saying that non-specialised Dutch museums are doing an absolutely appaling job, because as said: the fashion exhibition within a museum that has a wider perspective within their walls mostly use the fashion exhibition as a way to speak to a larger audience. These exhibitions are the fun fair of the museum. These exhibitions are there to make the museum shine. These exhibitions are created by people who put their money where their mouth is. Most noticeably in this category I think is Maarten Spruyt, who actually is a (fashion) stylist 'specialised' in making (museum) exhibitions. On top of that I raise you the famous photographer Erwin Olaf who curated a fashion exhibition called 'Catwalk' for the Rijksmuseum. Although, as the through-and-through critic that I am, I think there are many fingers to be raised at this exhibition (and also those made by Spruyt). Although, again, I'm just a very critical person and most people are just 'fine' about it... Anyway, let's go back to Antwerp and MoMu...


Until the 26th of February 2017 you can see the Rik Wouters & The Private Utopia exhibition at MoMu. The exhibition, as the name already suggests, is based around the paintings of Rik Wouters. Wouters was the only Belgian painter who used impressionist painting techniques to depict homely-scenes around and about Belgium. His muse was his wife Nel (that's to say: almost all if not all paintings he made are of Nel). Besides Wouters' love for the homely, the exhibition also uses the 'utopic search for the good life' as an important starting point. Think Henry David Thoreau's Walden, Life in Woods (1854) and the current slow-movement (where handicraft, durability, ethical responsibility and going 'back' to the roots of things are being held high). The exhibition is packed with famous (Belgian) names and dresses (Ann Demeulemeester, Dries van Noten, Martin Margiela do I need to say more?). The exhibition is a celebration of the 100th anniversary of Rik Wouters' death (any excuse to throw a party).


During my visit I specifically looked at the way they re-presented the primary features of a clothing item before musealization has taken place within a musealized environment (musealization: the process of an object going from economical/users 'worth' to a cultural 'worth'. Or as Kenneth Hudson has put it: "A tiger in a museum is a tiger in a museum and not a tiger." In this case it is: A dress in a museum is a dress in a museum and not a dress). So I looked at the way they used certain presentation techniques (light, sound, decor etc. etc.) to 'bring back' for instance the embodiment or body bound-ness of a dress ('an item of clothing is made for the body, without a body there is no clothing item'). In this case the embodiment can be seen through the many different mannequins they used to display the garments. Hereby the body isn't 'brought back' but the dress has been filled by a particular mannequin that supports the shape of the dress (and thus replaces the shape of the body) and therewith gives it a certain 'personal identity' (the mannequin can be distinguished from another) that supports the story or timeline it's being placed in. Most notably in this case is the room with the kids mannequins, whereby on the one side there are hyper-realistic mannequins in modern brightly coloured clothes. And on the other side there are very classic (basic) mannequins in oldfashioned neutral coloured clothes (also: notice the big pile of brightly coloured toys on the one side and the small pile of more neutral coloured toys on the other side. This way you could say a story is being told about the period it re-presents and the 'people' that go with it. Through the contrast between one window and the other within the same room, the visitor is being transported into a timecapsule that tells you visually a story from both sides at the same time).


For those who've been to the exhibition (or looked it up online), I think there'll be no disagreement when I say that the Dirk Van Saene room is the best room of the whole exhibition. It looks pretty in pictures, but it really is something you should experience yourself. The whole exhibition is quite bright/light and connected with oneanother (the rooms flow into eachother with not much differentiation between them except for the clothes or theme on display). However the Dirk Van Saene room is placed secluded in the arch of the exhibition space (the exhibition space is shaped like a triangle). You first have to go through a very dark tunnel to come into the dark rounded room that is the Dirk Van Saene room. Against the wall there are mannequins slowly spinning around (unsynchronized). Each one of them is lighted seperately (a top tip: after looking at the garments, start looking at the shadows they cast on the wall, it looks like there is a real person turning very eloquently in front of you. It's magical and a very soothing experience). After you've made your first steps forward into the room, you suddenly notice a difference underneath your feet. The hard and smooth (and cold) floor is being replaced by a soft circular rug that goes into a seating (especially designed by Dirk Van Saene for the exhibition). The touch of the rug in combination with the secluded darkness surrounding you, makes you experience the room and the clothes entirely differently from the rest of the exhibition space (I guess because there are more senses being addressed. I really wish they had some music playing in the background instead of the soft buzzing of the machine that spins the mannequins around to really bring me into a different 'zone of existence'). The darkness and soft touch heightens a feeling of coziness (especially when looking into the middle of the rug, which is also highlighted through lights and depicts a bright yellow sun shining fiercely). You can get really close to the mannequins as there is no glass seperating you from the item of clothing. Because they spin around your eye detects more and more after every spin. It also gives you the opportunity to look back and forth between the garments on display which I think is nicer than the mannequins moving on the catwalk from Catwalk at the Rijksmuseum. At Catwalk the mannequins were being 'chased down the catwalk' synchronized. This feels a lot more dynamic (partly this is also because of the way the clothes and the mannequins have been set up. It's a lot more 'natural' so to speak).


If I said that I loved the exhibition I would be lying (again: I'm a very critical person). But I think they've done a pretty good job in capturing the idea or even philosophy behind the exhibition. I only wish they had included the items of clothing more into the story instead of mentioning it sort of like 'oh yeah, these designers did this and this and you can see that now here'. Because you can, see it there, but it would be -I think- more interesting if the two worlds colided more with eachother (the paintings are -literally- in front of the glass and the garments behind it. The mirroring of the glass sometimes made the images morph into eachother, but still they felt -and were- seperated. A significant stone that's left unturned).

[EDIT 25/11/2016: Last Wednesday I interviewed the exhibition curator and she told me that this exhibition isn't really centered around the body or the way an item of clothing is being worn. It's more a note/story on society. The exhibition goes into sustainability and the paintings of Rik Wouters. And indeed, the clothes on display were in this way supported through the exhibition texts and the visuals or themes presented through Wouters' paintings. But still I wish they were more intertwined with one another.]

Love,
Dominique

It's Wednesday morning. I'm lying in my bed. It's about 9 o'clock. My mum walks into the room. I look at her with big eyes. She sits down at the end of my bed. "What do you think?", she asks. I hesitate. "Well?" she insisted. "Uhm... Hillary?", I said with doubt in my voice. She looks at me, she tries to smile, to give me a feeling of safety. I know what's to come. "No", she says, "it's Trump." A silence. That name, that awful name and all that it represents. "I'm never going to leave this bed ever again", I said while rolling myself like a wrap into my duvet.

However I did. I did leave the bed. After ten minutes or so I got out of my comforting wrap and faced the day.

I haven't turned on the news yet. I don't want to see the news yet.


I just came across this quote and somehow, out of context, I thought it to be quite suitable considering the current situation:


Nightmare scenario? Perhaps. (Yes). But after Brexit I think we all knew it was going to happen. I mean, the main problem is dissatisfaction. Any opportunity to go against the grain, against the status-quo, is grabbed with both hands. Which is a good thing when going against discrimation, racism, unequality etc. However I think we all know, in this instant, that isn't the case. I'm worried. I'm sad. I'm dissatisfied. Especially considering that these days 'going against the grain' apparently means 'going against anything that doesn't fit the heteronormative world view'. And it isn't just dissatisfaction with the established order, it's fear. Fear of the unknown. And it's a dangerous kind of fear. Especially when the unknown is anything that falls outside the specifications of 'white western middle class male'. I'm claustrophobic and I really get an uncomfortable itch, a feeling of discomfort, a panic attack even, because of that tight little space that's being put forward. A space where there is simply no space. There's no space for 'other'. While there is more 'other' than imaginable, there is so much more space available. So. Much. More. Space. So let's go to space! I couldn't agree more with Brittany (from B is for Brittany), who wrote on Instagram:

All rise! There's no time anymore to sit around! As Louise (Sprinkle of Glitter) said on her Instagram (apparently I'm all over Instagram today):


We are our own support group. We need to give a good example. We are the example. We are the ones in control. Even though this control isn't currently reflected in politics world wide, it doesn't mean it isn't there for us to choose, use and cherish. Because even though I'm not a Brit or American, these kind of decisions are a reflection of a bigger problem within politics and within a power un-balance that goes with it. Globalisation can sometimes be a b*tch when it comes to spreading a certain ideology that's based on fear rather than on facts. But, in our case, it can also be a super power. I don't stand alone. Brittany is not standing alone. Louise is not standing alone. We're all standing together. With our foot sternly on the ground and our hands in the air, making good use of all the space available. Spread the space, spread the change!

Love,
Dominique

It's 15:55 on the 6th of November 2016. It's a Sunday.

I've just listened for the second time to the newest album of Lady Gaga called Joanne.
I really like the 'atmosphere' of the album. She sounds very, I hate to use the word, 'nostalgic'.

I've just started writing on my newest (first) zine. It's about nostalgia, being stuck in the past (or something similar. I'm not sure yet what way it's going to gravitate towards). Currently, however, I'm stuck with words. I'm bursting with ideas but I can't visualize them. I can't write it down. It floats through my head and changes while I think about it. I wish I could write what I'm thinking in the order I'm thinking it. But I'm always too late. I tried to repeat it over and over again, but it changes. The words are gone. Lost in thought.

Girl, where do you think you're going? 
(Joanne)

I've never really been a big fan of Lady Gaga, but after the Cheek To Cheek album with Tony Bennett I really began the appreciate her voice. I actually listened to her sound. The way she pronounces words and then naturally the words she pronounced. Maybe it is because I'm normally not a really big fan of an electric, mechanical coating on songs (although catchy 80s songs are on repeat in this household. Scratch what I said: I'm full with electric, mechanical coating. What's wrong with that?).

I confess I am lost
In the age of the social
(Angel Down)

I'm listening for the third time to the newest album of Lady Gaga.
I've started knitting. It's a new project. Burned orange. A simple 'design'.
I'm scared. Scared of the future. More particular: I'm scared for wasting my time. Wasting my time on knitting instead of writing. On writing for my zine instead for school. On writing for school while it gets to be declared rubbish anyway. I've lost my faith. My self-esteem got hurt (yes, I'm still going on and on about that. What's a girl to do?). I swore to live like a nun and gave up within 24 hours.

I don't know what I want. I want short term satisfaction but have no plan for the future. I've got a short term plan for the near future. Useless. It gets changed within seconds, like the words in my head. Twisted, turned, changed and ultimately lost.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go
You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show
You're givin' me a million reasons
Give me a million reasons
Givin' me a million reasons
About a million reasons
(Million Reasons)

Waiting is awful. I always hate to wait. I thought I was patient, but I've realized I'm patient when it goes my way. When there's time to be patient (and there's no time to be patient).

I'm listening for the fourth time to the newest album of Lady Gaga.

I'm listening for the fifth time to the newest album of Lady Gaga.

Love,
Dominique

Last Sunday evening I got some feedback back from my teachers on one of my assignments (as that's what teachers do). After reading that feedback I swore to myself to never do anything again. To never try to create something (whether school-wise or creative-wise) and to just quit with everything. EVERYTHING. *whispers* Everything.

However, after one long day of misery (Mondays are awful as they are, let alone to meet up with said teachers -and 'school group'- to talk some more about all the bad decisions you've made in your life) I funnily enough cheered up a little. Maybe it's got something to do with the new notebooks I got (consumerism and killing trees, I know how to live my life). Or maybe it's got something to do with a 'clear mind' and a temporal stop on self-hating (my sister and I noticed that when we get stressed she ignores the world and reads thirty-or-so books in one day and I start to hate myself more than I usually do... good to know... good to know...).

Anyway. Today during my 'trying to make this sh*t work' labouring hours, I stumbled upon this hashtag. Because I'm cool and down with the kids (yo). #ZineWriMo stands for [hashtag] Zine Writing Month. And it starts today! Basically it's a challenge to make a (or more) zine(s) in the month of November. Do I've got time for this? No. Does that matter? No. Well... it does a little, but after saying 'I hate myself' for the thousandth time... I mean, it gets old quite quickly. Like 'I know' or 'whatever'. Also [this] print from The Sad Ghost Club is constantly, softly, repeated in my mind. So it goes a little like this...

My brain: I HATE MYSELF!!
Me (in my mind): I know!!
*whispering in the background (of my brain)*: If you're feeling blue, try making something new
*almost un-understandably soft (in my mind)*: No matter what it is.

Anyway. I love The Sad Ghost Club. I've recently discovered them and I love their stuff and what they stand for and I really want to combine it with stuff from The Stay Home Club because I must suddenly be feeling the group spirit or #squadgoals (of being on my own, alone, surrounded by cool stuff that somehow, weirdly, suspiciously makes life that tiny-winy bit more bearable at the moment... killing trees, dressing up as ghosts and lying in bed contemplating on life or whatever... *sigh* it must be Halloween again...).

Anyway. Today, on the first day of #ZineWriMo, we're getting started. That means thinking about themes, topics, layouts, story boards, doodles etc. etc. the whole shebang! At the moment I'm contemplating on either going seasonal or thematical (current ideas: on how to be a good kid (see my oh so crowded 'Good Kids Club' (followers) as an inspiration), knitting/sewing or just to 'go with the flow'). What do you think? What would you like?

If you'd like to join us (I say 'us' in a most 'I'm not running this show but now I've become part of it and, like, I don't know, don't hold me to anything') you can, like, start making a zine this month, use the hashtag and maybe join the Facebookgroup. I don't actually really know how Facebook works, but I guess you can just look it up (the group is called 'ZineWriMo' how surprising) or you could just, like, you know, Google it or something... Also, fun fact, I've never actually made a zine ever (or, like, I sort of always did as a child, but they weren'officially a 'zine'. I didn't even knew it was a 'something' back then. When I was innocent and... innocent). (maybe I could make a zine about being innocent, young or, like, nostalgia...).

Love,
Dominique