Intro: about this blog.
When travelling or arriving at a new destination where one has never been before, the things one first notices are those that bring surprise. Something new, something different, another palette of colors, different smells, different habits… When travelling in one’s own country or neighbourhood however, it is a competely different story. There is no newness. Or at least not much, and it is often easy to see those things that you would like to see done differently that strike you, because you think you know your neighbourhood all too well.
After having travelled quite a bit, both on assignments and for myself, I decided to work in my own region and see what I could find. Not that I don’t want to travel anymore, on the contrary. But having small children makes me temporary homebound.
In this blog, I will post images that I made, while going on little road trips around these parts. As if I were a discoverer.
This first picture was created out of a fascination and annoyance at the same time.
Flemish people have a knack for secrecy. There is a phrase from an old poem by the French poet Florian : « Pour vivre heureux, vivons cachés. » In orde to live happily, live hidden. Not unwise, but if applied too eagerly, isolation abounds. Large and meticulously cut hays are a trademark of the Flemish. To hide from the curious glance of strangers and neighbours, and to create the illusion of being far from the rest of the world, safely on the other side. I often feel that they have a sense of pride in shaping and loving those guardians, unnaturally cut and sometimes grotesque in shape. A lot of love goes into them.