This is This and This is This

Hey!

Happy New Year.

Here are some things:

This is some snow. This is "a little glow in the dark" at the presses. These are the first dummy tests for the "dislocate" books. This is a good whiskey (after having a few). This is some more work done on the "yakuza" solo exhibit in april. And these are flowers for my mother.

....and there's much more to come.

2013 is going to be a good year, I'm sure of it. For all of us... it has to be. My best wishes to each and every one of you... and see you soon.

a

Dislocate, a First Chapter: Tokyo/Brother

As you know by now, Dislocate has been playing around in my head for several years. I've always had a feeling about it, but I could never put my finger on it, figure out what it was about, or even if it would ever be or become a project. A while ago I wrote that it was time to really think this one through, that it needed the airplane treatment so to speak... And yes, I'm happy to say that it now feels like I've finally found what dislocate is about. I know, it sounds weird to talk about projects this way, but it really works this way for me: something starts, i see something, hear something, a vague feeling, an itch, it comes into my mind... and at some point I start scratching. I realize I want to get it out, but to do that I must first find what it actually is and define it. More often than not it remains a vague feeling for a long long time (in this case, 4 years)... hopefully at some point becoming clear.

dislocate | tokyo

Once the feeling acknowledged and defined, I must decide if it is worth pursuing, worth following up on, worth investing my energy into... worth trying to tell the story and worth making it happen. A lot plays in my head at this stage: will I be able to cope, will it be long term or short term, how much will it cost, will I be able to make money, will I be able to grow as an artist, will my family understand, will others believe in it too....

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So goes the story of Dislocate: for a long time I had the feeling of being homesick for no reason. Nothing bad, nothing shocking, but an itch nonetheless. After a while I started paying attention to it and this feeling always seemed to come pretty randomly, strangely not related to any place or time or travel. I found this very weird - for example, I'd sometimes get homesick being at home, and this I didn't (and still don't) understand. Given my family that I love dearly, I should have completely no reason for this.

So... long story short, I've decided this is interesting enough to pursue... and now a part of me is focused on identifying my "homesick moments" and trying to visualize this through images, and write down the story. It feels like a real journey I'm undertaking, because, I guess, if I feel homesick at home, there must be some other place I do feel at home, right?

dislocate | tokyo

So I'm going to visit places until I find my true home. Does this mean I'll be visiting the places I used to live, Saudi Arabia and Australia, or the place I live now, Belgium? I don't know, maybe... but I think it would be a testimony to a very limited definition of "place": just geographical.

Places more often are related to people I am close to or connect to: a place as "with a person", wherever physical that place might be or might change over time. I know this sounds kind of abstract, but at this point it seems like the best definition I can come up with to describe the quest of finding where one feels one really belongs.

And I know maybe most people do have the feeling they belong... but surprisingly, many people I talked to about this over the last months, expressed a strong feeling of recognition and surprised me by saying they had actually felt this way for a long time and never felt they could talk about it. Sometimes this crystallized into the feeling of not finding a soul mate, and other times it was expressed in the most literal sense, an immigrant who has no connection to his home country anymore, yet at the same time is fighting to find a home in the new country he is (sometimes not very) welcomed into.

So where is my home? Where is my land? Where is my place?? Who is my place? What sets my mind at ease? Who sets my mind at ease? Where can I belong? How can I find out?

I'm going to explore all this. Going to document all I come across that is related to this. Hard, because I cannot easily "summon" or predict or even plan that feeling of homelessness setting in, just to explore it. It's really hard and often pretty painful. It comes and goes quickly at times, but sometimes can also last for days, completely paralyzing me.

---

Sometimes little things make me feel at home, like for some reason flowers do. Other things on the contrary make me feel away from home, alone, tiny, wrapped in a blanket wanting to be somewhere else but at the same time knowing that being there is the catalyst for that feeling. Staying at a hotel room for me is always a very strong catalyst for such things, and I try to nourish that, make use of it as opposed to letting it paralyze me. Instead of fighting it, I'm now deliberately letting it. for better or for worse. you'll find images that feel like home, and images that feel like lost... and those images might be surprisingly different for everyone, or even surprisingly the same...

We'll see where the journey brings me, but I certainly can see now already that it'll be intense. First chapter is chosen: "Tokyo/Brother"

I hope the above made some sense... if not, don't get to upset... more to come soon... just wish me luck :-)

Have a great day today, a

Yakuza exhibit - first concepts

Hi. I've een working on a first Yakuza exhibit concept. I started out sketching by hand and then taking pictures at the actual location, but constantly going up and down to measure, make new pictures, adjust the sketch, became too time-consuming. The sketches would always lack a sense of proportion: I would e.g. have no idea how large or small an image should be printed to fit a wall in a balanced way, or what would be an ideal viewing distance for any given size.

So I forced myself to make time to learn the basics of 3D architectural modeling (I basically downloaded Google SketchUp and watched all the tutorials). It took a long time to get going, and it's quite crude, but as soon as I'd created the room in the right proportions, it became amazing how easy it was to virtually hang images on the walls, put people in the rooms, and see what the impact would be on the space the images were in, make them bigger or smaller, hang them up a little higher, work with different levels,... In a flash, this tool had become indispensable for me to test all my concepts in many more ways than I ever could do before.

Yakuza C-mine exhibit - sketch

Yakuza C-mine exhibit - beginning edit & layout

Of course to actually sketch out ideas quickly, using 3D is way too slow. For that I will always use pencil and paper and actual tiny prints of my images stuck on a huge page across the whole table... and when I feel an idea that I sketched might just be possible in real life, only then do I go to the 3D environment to actually draw it in detail to see how it holds up. And only if it holds up there, I can start dreaming of the possibility of actually producing...

Another benefit of 3D is being able to show different views. Even though my concept is far from finished, I was able to show the gallery director a walkthrough and the different rooms and basically show whatever she needed to see. She loved it.

But I've still got a long way to go. As you can see, the digital model is still quite empty besides the "hallway"... and I might even change my mind on that one :-)

I'll talk more about the schematics of the room next time, as well as my concept... I just have to work a little more to be able to show you some clearer visuals. But up to now the installation seems to be quite cost efficient, portable, and modular as well; so it could fit it into different shaped or sized locations... because you never know what the future brings...

ps. don't worry about the actual image edit (if you can recognize any of the images anywhere), it's likely to change a million times between now and next week :-)

How do you guys go about sketching an exhibit?

Have a great day today,

a

Yakuza exhibit concept - screenshot

Yakuza exhibit concept - screenshot

Yakuza exhibit concept - screenshot

The Airplane Treatment - thoughts on Dislocate

I like to write on planes. Well, not on planes of course, rather: when I'm on flights. Being forced not to be able to do anything but have your hand luggage with you, nothing else to do but sit and stare out the window, takes me into a contemplative mood almost immediately. It's always been a good way to think about things that need a good thinking about. Helps me to focus, to have an uninterrupted chain of thought, and synthesize what a project is about. Now that I think about it, every one of my projects has had this airplane treatment so to speak, being forced offline, no-one to talk to, no internet, only a pen and notebook nearby. And hopefully a window seat.

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I've been trying to think Dislocate through for years now. It seems like the project is taking extraordinarily long to settle in my head, to define itself for me, and thus, for me to define it. Maybe because it's one of the most overtly inner projects that I'm engaged in, where I try to talk about very personal things like feeling lost, uprooted, looking for a home, looking for meaning, a place. Not that this undertone isn't present in projects like Yakuza and Heavens, but that's exactly the difference: it's an undertone, underneath a recognizable and real world subject. In Dislocate it becomes the main thing, almost without a recognizable real world counterpart.

The question racking my brain is, do I need to create this real world counterbalance for this project? Can I have a project that is completely about the meaning of photographs rather than the actual scene depicted? I've always felt that a good story needs the outer and the inner part to be able to stand by themselves, and work together. Otherwise it seems so one-dimensional, no? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should just try. Or maybe I'm just overthinking. Overthinking is a danger too, I guess :-)

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A project usually seems to start out very fuzzy, a vague feeling of sorts, and takes a long time to crystallize into something real, something understandable for the viewer and myself. It was with Yakuza that I first came to realize that the long term aspect that creeps into every project that I'm involved in, is not only a reflection of the rhythm of my life, but also because of my need for some deeper explanation to creep in. That counterbalance. My need to find that undertone. And in my case, it seems I'm not able to find that deeper meaning without letting things grow on me for an extended period of time, think hard and talk about it to friends a lot. Yes, I'm a little slow that way.

What if Dislocate were the other side of the spectrum: I found the undertone, that deeper meaning, but haven't found the real world counterpart yet. Geez, am I even still making sense here?

Then yesterday I realized the blatantly obvious thing: Dislocate simply hasn't had the airplane treatment yet.

Now I'm on a plane, ready to leave for my brother Malik in Tokyo to photograph more of Dislocate. It seems now's a time as good as ever... Signing off the internet, signing on the notebook. Wish me luck, safe travels... and talk soon.

cheers, a

A Little Glow in the Dark - the Balancing Act

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm always open to meaningful collaborations. Primarily as a photographer of course, but also, in other ways, in projects I simply believe in. For example, for BURN Magazine I designed and built the website, and collaborate closely with David Alan Harvey all the time. I speak to him almost daily as a creative consultant for anything that comes up. We do cool things together. And he's my mentor. Plus, most importantly, we've become great friends in the process. I don't think it's farfetched to say that both David and I are having a noticeable effect on each others' lives, and support each other's careers with great faith. ---

Meet Luc:

Luc Gijbels by Anne Platje

Luc and I, being business partners and close close friends for over eleven years now, know what it means to collaborate intensely. We've proven ourselves over and over to each other for over a decade. We work together perfectly in the web design company we founded. We know that we can depend on each other, and we know what the other is made of. We trust each other blindly. Maybe most importantly: we can stand each other's presence for 16+ hours a day when the going gets tough :-)

The Story

About a year ago, Luc started talking about a new art project he was shooting and writing, called "A Little Glow in the Dark".

In "A Little Glow in the Dark", Luc tells a story about life lines. He believes that every human being is born naked and slowly builds up what are about 200 meaningful connections with others throughout his life. Everyone has a personal yarn ball that can only unwind, never to be wound up again... thick or thin, short or long, you don't know when it will be over or what you leave behind. And as everyone unwinds, we all become entangled, literally strung together, connected in one way or the other.

In a way, "A Little Glow in the Dark" is a story about relationships. A story about mutual respect. A story about being intimately connected during this singular and spectacular journey we call life. A story about choices and dreams. And a story about what we leave behind when our yarn is unwound... will it all have been worth it?

To make this happen, Luc went to South Africa and re-enacted "life" for seven intense weeks, the decor being the Nyanga Township, several miles of white knitting yarn, and 200 local township kids. He built up meaningful relationships and created art together with them... and he documented the process along the way.

The Collaboration

He came back and showed me the story, his intentions, his aspirations. He showed me the work he had done. I said I'd love to be a part of shaping and bringing this story to life. And given our history together we both knew this could be done.

So I'm joining forces with him yet again... To design and create two books with his work. To talk about the story. To help give back to the local community of Nyanga. Because I deeply believe in him and in the story he wants to tell.

And for some reason, I know the books are gonna be fantastic. I just feel it in my guts. I'm confident the concept is strong and I feel the story needs to be told. I've seen the quality and sheer amount of visuals that he has created. I'm proud to be part of it, and yes, I can't wait to talk about this one over the next coming months....

A Little Glow in the Dark - Luc Gijbels

A Little Glow in the Dark - Luc Gijbels

These are two samples of the images he made. Tiny, little pieces of the puzzle. I promise, you'll soon see the depth and breadth of this project unfold. Once in a while, I'll be talking right here about everything, and of course more regular project updates will be talked about on alittleglowinthedark.com. Luc and I will be designing and producing the books and everything surrounding it, the dummies, the handling, the printing, right here for everyone to see.

Super exciting... :-)

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The Balancing Act

Of course, my own photography stays on track and (hopefully) continues to grow. For those who've been following, new chapters on Dislocate are being made as we speak, and another deeply moving trip for Heavens is being planned for the fall... Yakuza of course has the solo exhibit in spring 2013, which I'm sketching now, and also Sugar might even have a little surprise in store... more on all this soon.

Over the years I've come to learn that the "natural" rhythm of every single project I'm doing (and every single project that I'm involved in) always seems to be totally unique. for me, the art is to be able to not only find and respect those rhythms, but also to balance them all in the best possible way in the rest of my life, mainly trying not to "urge overkill". In a way, to find projects that naturally fit into my life, as opposed to trying to press(ure) projects into my life, let alone trying to press my life into any project. There are so many wonderful and interesting things to do in a lifetime.

I'm really glad I can balance between Dislocate, A Little Glow in the Dark, BURN Magazine, Yakuza, Heavens, and Sugar. And along the way, in turn, each will get center stage, and hopefully, every time one is finished, another will take over or a new thing will simply appear. In a way I feel that working at this kind of finding and balancing, is key.

Oh, and also: always be prepared to leave behind interesting things that don't work out. Hmmm. Might be interesting to write something about this too...

Stay tuned for more. Really. I have a feeling that Yakuza was just the beginning.

Question: how do you all manage the balancing act of everything interesting going on in your life? Do you let a lot of outside pressure in? What would you define as outside pressure and what not? Would, or should, income and security have a big impact on choices?

Ten images that didn't make it into YAKUZA

Sorry that I've been gone for a while... it's the first time in years that I've been able to relax my mind a couple of weeks, and in hindsight it has been necessary: I've been able to take some much needed important decisions, decisions that have been delayed and delayed even without me realizing it, and with a relaxed mind have come to surface and have been easier to contemplate... And of course I've started preparing for the fall when things will get up to full speed again with many especially exciting new things that I want to tell you all about, not only things related to the Yakuza project. More on all this soon... In the meantime, I thought this one would be fun: the ten images that most narrowly did not make it into the ODO YAKUZA TOKYO book.

The story goes as follows: during any book design process, one has to be prepared to meet unexpected circumstances, and it's not uncommon that even at the last instant, things can change completely. In my case, my - what I (and the printer) thought was the - definitive book edit had always been 98 spreads with images, plus 6 spreads for the chapters (plus pages for text at the beginning and the end).

And then it happened. Right at the very last second, when the printer was making the final impositioning for the plates, we both noticed we had made a major calculation error in the book. I had designed part of one book section too many. Simple page count error. Basic rookie mistake. I've been professionally designing books for years, how could this have happened. This could turn out to be a disaster.... because this meant, that in effect, I would have to cut images from the book, and I had to cut them fast. There was simply no choice. The only other option would be to literally stop the printing and re-think the whole book paper, cover, book thickness, weight, binding,... not to mention the extra costs involved... and to delay the book launch by several months.

So I chose to push ahead. Cut the images. And what could have easily become a disaster, in hindsight, actually turned out to be something good. For some reason, I was able to identify the images that had to go, very quickly... having spent months with the edit, somehow it appeared clear in my mind what had to be done. And indeed, leaving those images out, turned out to make a stronger edit.

Of course, after cutting the images, I had to re-look and re-do the entire sequencing, and this in turn leading yet again to be forced to drop out another couple of images. Damn. In total, I decided cut exactly 10 images and changed the sequencing, dividing into more (but smaller) chapters... extremely tense moments I can tell you, especially because I think I only had 2 hours to complete the job, prepare a new hi res pdf and deliver it. The presses were ready to go. And you don't ever want the presses to be waiting for you, trust me.

Even with the pressure looming over me, I still recall those two hours as something extremely positive, as very exciting, as an opportunity to make the book better still. I'm so glad I didn't choke and pull the plug. It was like someone had whispered in my ear: "Anton, you now have 2 hours to make your book better, and it's your last chance... go for it".

Judge for yourself... what do you think of these 10 that didn't make the cut? I know showing them out of their original sequence is not ideal, but I hope it'll work.

(ps. in regards to the "real" b-roll images that weren't used in the book edit earlier along in the process, I'll soon post some of those too)

have a great summer all, and more soon, I promise!

a

YAKUZA exhibit in C-mine, Genk (BE) - 2013

So here is the big news... my first YAKUZA solo exhibit has just been confirmed for spring 2013.

And it's one hell of a unique location... the former Winterslag coal mine now-converted-to-cool-cultural-centre C-mine... A long time ago, this was also the coal mine my late grandfather and godfather (not Antoine, but Bert) worked in.

I now have exactly 11 months to prepare. It seems like a long time, but in reality it's not.... I'll be drawing concepts, making scale models, test prints, paper types, and sketching like hell. And the edit and sequencing of course will be crucial... and the production of the artwork itself will take several months... not to mention producing the installation itself.

I think I've got some cool things in mind as to how I'd like to approach this, and the next conversations with C-mine will determine the feasibility of what's inside my head. They loved the initial concept, so hopefully it'll work out the way I'm envisioning it.

I'll be talking about every step of the way right here, building the concept online, and letting it grow from idea to sketch to model to reality... a careful deliberate journey, and hopefully mucho fun!

I just visited the location, and I've got a whopping 450 m2 (about 1,500 sq ft) at my disposal.

really excited...

a