what the F

ok, so we’re back. Almost three moths touring through the Balkan, doing performances, meeting artists, writing songs, bringing energy, collaborating energy, making images, thinking, making possible statements about energy…

Being back I noticed myself ignoring our own familiar theatrescene for a while… Maybe cause I needed to be alone for a while, but also because of the fear of loosing connection with this small, but familiar, scene. And now after two weeks of being back home, the night I played with BLONT in Goes, I went for a drink in ‘de Blincker’ (our former home-pub) and fuck I was right to ignore my own base. The narrow-minded discussions about the actions/ images we made, I had to declare (as if I’m a small child begging for recognition) to some colleague-artist… there is one thing I have to blog about: fuck the “I’m an artist, hope my colleague artists see me” vibe here! I’d rather be ignored by my colleagues than be punished for my will to go with ‘just’ some energy, some music and some more energy to roll with, to meet and to deal with… because that’s it! it’s the only thing we’ve got to go/ roll with. It’s a burning question mark that I have to provoke. It’s all I have, It’s all I dare to compare with my audience. The audience I would rather ask to interact with my question marks than to give them any kind of answer. But sadly enough my colleague in ‘de Blincker’ can’t join: he’s to busy with finding the new form for new forms of new forms of making something like ART, bah I’ll try to get some sleep after my will to punch him in the conscience

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