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

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

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

I was a Dog (exhibit)

A quickie. I was recently asked to join a collective exhibit of former students at the photography academy of my home town. I was honored of course, but as I couldn't show work from the Yakuza project (someone else has got dibs on that biggie - I'll reveal very very soon :) I opted for an edit of images from my Mexico work in 2008.

Six images from a chapter titled "I was a Dog", part of Dislocate, the broader story in which I try to come to terms with my feelings of being uprooted.

The hardest part for me is always how to visualize the reality of the printed image in a given exhibit space, and depending on that, to try and make the best possible choices: which image edit, which size, to make an accompanying edition or not, and how to present the images. A good way for me to help visualize is that I not only make a simple sketch of the space and add the work into it, but that I also add silhouettes of people at the correct relative sizes. This never fails to amaze me, and always proves to be very helpful. Bigger is most definitely not always better.

For this exhibit, I had available 3 large panels of 2,5x3m (8x10ft) each, white, both sides usable.

Anton Kusters - "I was a Dog" - SASK Hasselt - setup 01

Anton Kusters - "I was a Dog" - SASK Hasselt - setup 02

As you can see by the relative size to the silhouettes and the panels, in this case, the prints should be quite large, 44" high by almost 70" wide.

If I would've printed a test image at this size without having made the sketch first, I would've most certainly opted for much smaller prints, because, right now, drying on my table at home, they seem way too large:

I was a Dog - image of print

Presentation-wise, I'm going for a "bare bones" approach, hanging the prints with two steel clamps directly on the paper, without any framing or glass or filter at all. Light prints, heavy content. I hope it'll work out.

How on earth I'm going to transport these beasts to the venue next week is a mystery to me.

And I've beent told that any exhibit is prone to last minute changes because of many unforeseen/practical circumstances... e.g. what if there are only two panels available instead of three, or they cannot be setup side by side...

So I might have to adapt on the spot.

Makes it all the more exciting me says. Fingers crossed.

Cheers,

anton

More exhibit info on the website of the Academy of Fine Arts of Hasselt (in Dutch).

Today 67 years ago Auschwitz was liberated

On January 27, 1945, Soviet troops liberated the Nazi concentration and death camp Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland.

Today is also the International Day of Commemoration in Memory of the Victims of the Holocaust.

Below the poem Todesfuge (Death Fugue) by Paul Celan. A photographer and good friend of mine, Koen, told me about this poem while we were discussing Heavens... I had never heard of it... and I thought it fitting for this day today.

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Paul Celan - Todesfuge

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken sie abends wir trinken sie mittags und morgens wir trinken sie nachts wir trinken und trinken wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete er schreibt es und tritt vor das Haus und es blitzen die Sterne er pfeift seine Rüden herbei er pfeift seine Juden hervor läßt schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde er befiehlt uns spielt auf nun zum Tanz

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich morgens und mittags wir trinken dich abends wir trinken und trinken Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete Dein aschenes Haar Sulamith wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng

Er ruft stecht tiefer ins Erdreich ihr einen ihr andern singet und spielt er greift nach dem Eisen im Gurt er schwingts seine Augen sind blau stecht tiefer die Spaten ihr einen ihr andern spielt weiter zum Tanz auf

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich mittags und morgens wir trinken dich abends wir trinken und trinken ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete dein aschenes Haar Sulamith er spielt mit den Schlangen Er ruft spielt süßer den Tod der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland er ruft streicht dunkler die Geigen dann steigt ihr als Rauch in die Luft dann habt ihr ein Grab in den Wolken da liegt man nicht eng

Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich mittags der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland wir trinken dich abends und morgens wir trinken und trinken der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland sein Auge ist blau er trifft dich mit bleierner Kugel er trifft dich genau ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete er hetzt seine Rüden auf uns er schenkt uns ein Grab in der Luft er spielt mit den Schlangen und träumet der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland

dein goldenes Haar Margarete dein aschenes Haar Sulamith

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Paul Celan - Death Fugue

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night we drink and we drink it we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are flashing he whistles his pack out he whistles his Jews out in earth has them dig for a grave he commands us strike up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night we drink in the morning at noon we drink you at sundown we drink and we drink you A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes he writes when dusk falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete your ashen hair Shulamith we dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined.

He calls out jab deeper into the earth you lot you others sing now and play he grabs at the iron in his belt he waves it his eyes are blue jab deeper you lot with your spades you others play on for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night we drink you at noon in the morning we drink you at sundown we drink you and we drink you a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete your ashen hair Shulamith he plays with the serpents

He calls out more sweetly play death death is a master from Germany he calls out more darkly now stroke your strings then as smoke you will rise into air then a grave you will have in the clouds there one lies unconfined

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night we drink you at noon death is a master from Germany we drink you at sundown and in the morning we drink and we drink you death is a master from Germany his eyes are blue he strikes you with leaden bullets his aim is true a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete he sets his pack on to us he grants us a grave in the air he plays with the serpents and daydreams death is a master from Germany

your golden hair Margarete your ashen hair Shulamith

(translation by Michael Hamburger)