This entry was posted on Friday, 14 August 2009 at 7:46 pm and is filed under Media Me, Pictureman, video. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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…as darkness proceeds, fulfilling billions of perceived man made needs, different scene’s on lot’s of screens, clustered in big bully buildings, appartments, with information flowing through walls, pipes, in the air and copper cables, like blood racing through veins, bringing life in the world closer, enables, sometimes simmering in servers, like waiting at a busstop, sitting next to information, as to passengers in a train, transferring tracks and destinations, on a station, like air surrounding us, everywhere, at any time, till the moon starts dropping and the sun starts climbing, shielding darkness by light until light transforms into the night, again, our pool of needs unleashes, a fierce fountain, pointing sky high, on top of which, we sit with lookalike telescopes, lot’s of hope, wander, think, feel, experiencing reality for real.
Thank you, Charlotte,
It is a kind of organised voyeurism, I guess.
Ronnie Griens, her camera and I, went to Akbars neighbours and asked if we could film him from their atticwindow. This was possible.
They asked: Who is he? We always see him sitting behind his computer or taking pictures from his balcony.
He’s a streetphotographer, I said. He’s the narrator in a new film we’re making. We portrait him in several ways. It’s a project about the digital revolution.
I see, the young women said, but he knows your filming, right?
Of course, I said.
I write this at my parents place. It’s my fathers birthday. I’m sitting in the kitchen, everybody has gone to sleep.
Today, my mother wanted to know who Akbar was.
Is he famous, she asked. Should I know him from something?
I don’t know, I said. He has got fans. So yes, sure, he’s kind of famous on the internet. He makes wonderfull portraits and puts them on flickr, but I don’t think you knew him before.
Now I do, she said, but at the same time, I know nothing about him.
No, I said, everything you know is your own interpretation.
But why do you spy on him?
I don’t spy him, I said, I just want to show something which can’t be shown in a different way.
Just back from a nightwalk with the dogs. Here, in this neighbourhood, several people are still sitting behind their computer, curtains open, so you can watch easily.
It fascinates me. As if they are meditating, watchting colourful screens.
Akbar is a dear friend I met thru photography. I love to follow him as you make this chronicle. The custom of open windows in your country is alien here (for the most part) in the USA where I live.
Media Me 
Saturday, 15 August 2009 at 2:14 pm
Is it voyeurism if you know Akbar? ;-))
Beautiful, the blue window makes such a great frame.
Saturday, 15 August 2009 at 2:17 pm
…as darkness proceeds, fulfilling billions of perceived man made needs, different scene’s on lot’s of screens, clustered in big bully buildings, appartments, with information flowing through walls, pipes, in the air and copper cables, like blood racing through veins, bringing life in the world closer, enables, sometimes simmering in servers, like waiting at a busstop, sitting next to information, as to passengers in a train, transferring tracks and destinations, on a station, like air surrounding us, everywhere, at any time, till the moon starts dropping and the sun starts climbing, shielding darkness by light until light transforms into the night, again, our pool of needs unleashes, a fierce fountain, pointing sky high, on top of which, we sit with lookalike telescopes, lot’s of hope, wander, think, feel, experiencing reality for real.
Sunday, 16 August 2009 at 12:33 am
Thank you, Charlotte,
It is a kind of organised voyeurism, I guess.
Ronnie Griens, her camera and I, went to Akbars neighbours and asked if we could film him from their atticwindow. This was possible.
They asked: Who is he? We always see him sitting behind his computer or taking pictures from his balcony.
He’s a streetphotographer, I said. He’s the narrator in a new film we’re making. We portrait him in several ways. It’s a project about the digital revolution.
I see, the young women said, but he knows your filming, right?
Of course, I said.
I write this at my parents place. It’s my fathers birthday. I’m sitting in the kitchen, everybody has gone to sleep.
Today, my mother wanted to know who Akbar was.
Is he famous, she asked. Should I know him from something?
I don’t know, I said. He has got fans. So yes, sure, he’s kind of famous on the internet. He makes wonderfull portraits and puts them on flickr, but I don’t think you knew him before.
Now I do, she said, but at the same time, I know nothing about him.
No, I said, everything you know is your own interpretation.
But why do you spy on him?
I don’t spy him, I said, I just want to show something which can’t be shown in a different way.
Just back from a nightwalk with the dogs. Here, in this neighbourhood, several people are still sitting behind their computer, curtains open, so you can watch easily.
It fascinates me. As if they are meditating, watchting colourful screens.
Thank you, Taxeeh! Reality for real it is.
Tuesday, 25 August 2009 at 7:48 pm
Akbar is a dear friend I met thru photography. I love to follow him as you make this chronicle. The custom of open windows in your country is alien here (for the most part) in the USA where I live.