letters to my friend Eden

While researching the concept of what is perceived as a public space, I came across the question of who owns public space. More specifically, who inhabits a space that is perceived as a free zone where the public congregates. Observing unwritten moral rules about how an individual should behave in the presence of others brought to light a group of people who, in some ways, do not fit within the agreed-upon structures of a public space. Those were the homeless people. Involuntarily subjected to the condition of obstructing accepted fluctuations in open spaces. Slinking unnoticed beneath the Tschumi pavilion in search of shelter. Taking wakeful rest and departing in search of another open sanctuary. Having the opportunity to work in public space, the desire was to create an environment for passers-by to rest, more so to put oneself in the shoes of a homeless person. Regrettably, this was not accepted by the municipality. As a result, rather than providing an experience for the other, I disguised myself as a vagrant under the Tschumi pavilion one evening.

An action was transformed into a voluntary disruption of an open space. Being completely exposed yet unnoticed, having comfort while remaining alert at all times.
The desire to wreak havoc in a Heresingel neighborhood was overshadowed by the feelings it caused me while I shortly experienced a position of a bum.

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mixed media installation, part of Het Resort midseason'20 program, Tschumi pavilion, 2020, Groningen, NL

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