Pictureman says

Camera and edit: Matthijs Treurniet.

Texts for voice-over Pictureman, based on an interview with Akbar Simonse.

Sometimes I feel lonely.
But not when I’m behind my computer.
A picture can be company, you know.

Writing comments.
Being social.
Making connections.
I know them.
I’ve met them.
They know me.
So that’s it.
When I freez, I socialize.

I like documentaries.
And… the Simpsons.
But that’s personal.
I almost never look at movies.
I hate dramaseries and soaps, I don’t care.
I don’t understand.
Games and shows are not for me.
Don’t even talk about it.
I just don’t understand that kind of fun.
I never watch television on my computer.
I need a big screen.
My eyes are getting tired very often.

I’m a very tolerant person.
The only thing I hate are intolerant people.
It would be a nightmare for me, if my pictures would be used for something I can not identify with.
Identification is important.
I love my pictures.
I love people.

I love to learn.
But I hate manuals.
I never read them.
When I bought my camera, I read the first twenty pages.
Then I stopped.
I thought: when I need something, I’ll look it up.

When something goes wrong with my computer, I call someone to help me.
Technique has to be easy.
Technique should make me feel comfortable.
Most of the time it makes me feel stupid.
I don’t want to feel stupid.
It has to be simple.

Look at me.
Just an old man with a camera and a hat.
This is how I look, late at night.
This is me.
I never try to look like someone who isn’t me.
These are all parts of me.

Privacy doesn’t exist anymore nowadays.
Not in this society.
Don’t touch the internet, they say, for it will touch you.
But I don’t want to stay at home all the time.
Why should I?
The moment you walk the street, you lose part of your privacy.
There it starts.
I don’t care.

I have a mobile phone.
I call and sms.
That’s it.
Once I took a picture with my phone, but I don’t know where it is right now.
It’s gone.
I have my camera, so why should I take pictures with my phone?
Internet on my phone? I don’t think so.

I will become an old, maybe a bit worried man.
I’m not very enthousiastic about my own health.
My health bothers me.
Being alone bothers me.

How did it change me?
Did it change me?
It’s hard to say.
(Silence)
I have to think about that.
(Silence)
Well, I look things up.
If I want to know something, I look it up.
I’m in charge.

I read newspapers.
I watch the news.
But I never search for news on the internet.
I don’t have to know everything.
Most of the time it doesn’t interest me.
Maybe it will interest me in a few years.
I can wait.
I’m not in a hurry.
I don’t want to be informed about anything.
I just de-connect from information.
I’m glad I’m not a news addict.
I’m addicted to people.

I like comments.
Sometimes it becomes a story.
I upload a picture, give it a title, and people start to comment, just like that.
They start to interpret.
Sometimes they see things I didn’t see.
It makes me laugh.

Sometimes I love to be offline.
As if it is not there.
Time flies when you’re online.
I also love to stop.
A few days, a week.
And now something completely different.

I consider it a world.
Strange, yet common after a while.
It’s all about how quick you get used to certain habits.

Last two months. Call it reality.

Photo: Marco Habanero.
Left: me.
Right: Akbar Simonse.

About the videorecordings July/August

For two months we worked without a script.
I asked Akbar Simonse to be my model.
In Media Me your name will be Pictureman, I said.
We will portray you in several ways.
We will put you in different settings.
Let’s call it scenes.
We follow you at home, on the street, dressed in costumes, day and night.
As a director I just have one question: Can you act as if we’re not there?
Be as natural as possible? Don’t do something you would never do?
That’s ok, he said. I promise you not to act.

After a few weeks I asked if he missed a script.
No, he said, I would never cooporate in this project if there was a script.
You are the script, I said.
Yes, he said. The script, c’est moi.

His interiour was ours.
We recorded his kitchen, his bedroom, his toilet, his computer.
We spied on him in an organised way, from the attic of his neighbours house, on the otherside of the block.
The neighours asked: Does he know you are filming him?
Of course, we said, and waved to eachother.
At that time there was a telephone on the speaker, in his house, with my voice, saying things like:
_ Go to the kitchen.
_ Find a cup or a glass or something.
_ Take a drink.
_ Go back to your computer, slowly.
_Close the curtains.

Ronnie Griens and Matthijs Treurniet have been of great value during the recordings. Most of the time they worked for themselves.
We used YouTube and Vimeo for updates.
My directions were very simple. I asked them to come as close as possible, while filming Akbar.
Approach him as if he is a very important person in which every detail, every movement counts.

From the beginning of the recordings he said: I don’t want to become famous by all this.
What do you mean, I asked.
It may take away my anonimity. Media Me shouldn’t disturb me in public space. I want to keep on taking pictures freely. If DWDD calls for interviews, I will refuse. I ab-so-lu-tel-ly do not want to become famous.
They won’t call, I said. Radio and TV don’t pay much attention to these kind of projects, developed on internet. It’s just not their piece of cake. Broadcasters use other techniques. They know how to reach masses, how to manipulate and entertain you. That’s our goal, our proof of our existance. We calculate.
Seperate worlds, he said.
I guess so, I said. TV and radio don’t pay much attention to the gaming industry as well. Maybe it’s a threat. Games reach millions of people too. Just like TV. Competition, power, influence.
I don’t like games, he said.
Me neither, I said. But still, this is a kind of game we’re playing.

He left his house, sat in a train, visited the Media Park in Hilversum and the biggest studio of Europe: Studio 22.
We went to his favorite spots in The Hague, had a sober meal in an empty restaurant.
We didn’t visit a garden or a park, for he doesn’t takes pictures of flowers, plants and trees.
He photographs people in the street, and their artistic traces, like graffity and streetart.
Once, years ago, he started with taking pictures of buildings. Then people entered his account. Candid portraits, situations, call it reality.

He said: I don’t want this project to be about me. I’m the narrator, not the main character. But you’re free to use the stories I tell you.
But if you’re not the main charachter of this story, I asked, who is?
All members of The Pool? The machines?

I’m working on a radioscript now.
The soundtrack of “the movie”.
It will be a multi-layered script with many voices and sounds.
First layer is the narrator: Pictureman.
I send my texts to Akbar and ask him: “Do you agree on this? Could you say things like this?”
When he says yes, I publish these texts here.
They’re inspired by the movies, over fifty minutes of video so far, and our conversations during the last two months.

Thank you, Akbar.
Let’s write.

Bert Kommerij.

Portrait #11

Photography: Marco Habanero.
Model: Akbar Simonse.

Portrait #10

Photography: Marco Habanero.
Model: Akbar Simonse.

Portrait #9

Photography: Marco Habanero.
Angel: Akbar Simonse.

Portrait #8

Photography: Marco Habanero.
Angel: Akbar Simonse.

Portrait #7

Photography: Marco Habanero.
Model: Akbar Simonse.

Looking for the right King Robe

Looking for the right King Robe for the photoshoot next Saturday with Akbar Simonse as Pictureman.
Goal is to collect images based and inspired on the nine themes of Media Me. Interpretations. Theatrical.
Playing with symbols and metaphores.
Marco Habanero: Photography. (We had a great day! Thank you.)
Comtumes: plenty. Props, light and atmosphere optimal.
To be continued.
(Also found a crown…)

Watching TV, going to bed.

Camera and edit: Ronnie Griens.

Pictureman visits studio’s at Mediapark

camera: Matthijs Treurniet en Ronnie Griens (edit).

Close up

Akbar Simonse as Pictureman.
Camera: Ronnie Griens.

When I look at this clip, I don’t miss text, nor music. Would it be possible to make Media Me a silent movie?