Hans van der Kamp

Today a judge in Amsterdam sentenced ex-lawyer and Iraq activist Jeroen de K. to 116 days of prison for threatening our Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende. On his website Jeroen de K. had posted a comment in which he suggested that it would not be such a bad idea to publicly execute our prime prick for his co-responsibility in war crimes committed in Iraq. Isn’t that cute? I thought it was. I have written something similar in my post Masked Cowards, but I would never be so gullible to make statements like that in Dutch. Jeroen de K. should have written what he wanted to write, but in English. That is like using 128-bit encryption as far as our cruddy Intelligence Service is concerned. Their foot soldiers are way too busy explaining how a Moroccan youth, carrying a plastic bag with a potato and a floppy drive in it, has all the ingredients to make a devastating bomb.

So what is the good news? Well, as far as the Dutch judicial system is concerned the Internet did not even exist until 2003. By sentencing some intellectual hothead to 116 days in prison; they finally acknowledge the existence of the WWW. Now all they have to do is recognize the fact that freedom of speech and satire are the same on computer screens as they are on paper. This won’t happen for a long, long time, take my word for it.

About a year ago a Belgian diplomatic representative was ordered to travel to the Hague on behalf of the Dutch Government to apologize to Balkenende, because one of their politicians De Gucht had compared Balkenende to Harry Potter. That was cute too, if you ask me. Maybe somewhat of an insult to Harry Potter.

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Some time ago I went to an exhibit with a woman in her sixties. Despite her age she was extremely elegant and good-looking. She was married to a quite successful visual artist. The couple had been growing apart for some years and whenever she spoke of him she would make no effort hiding her contempt.

When I asked her about her husband’s latest work, she laughed and said: ‘Well you know all Catholic men start to piss Holy Water once they are over the hill..’ She was referring to the fact that her husband, known for his straightforward and somewhat provoking approach to art, had changed into a man who was photographing plants, insects, flowers and butterflies.

I grinned and changed the subject, knowing that if I didn’t I would certainly trigger an avalanche of complaints about men in general.

Weeks later I actually met her husband. He was sitting in the garden of their second home somewhere in the South of France holding a tiny booklet he had printed himself on an old ink jet printer and in it were indeed photographs of animals and plants.
I had expected a more personal angle from a man who had been a revolutionary in his days, but the photographs were quite average. He turned the pages slowly, mumbling remarks like: ‘Isn’t nature marvelous? The design.. The design of that beetle.. My God, it never ceases to amaze me..’

He had not lost his marbles, as I would soon find out after dinner when he started lecturing me on five decades of art. And he certainly could hold his liquor a lot better than I could.

Yesterday I was reminded of that afternoon in France, while sitting behind a glass of Sprite in a café after a visit to a clinic where I am being treated for the results of a lifestyle based on one motto; ‘Live fast and die young’. I saw this man, older than me who had just returned from a trip to Thailand to be reunited with his favorite dog in the neighborhood bar. I was genuinely moved by what I saw. In my pocket was a mini camera that I was going to test that day — just for the fun of it. I took it out and asked the man if I could take a photograph.

In normal circumstances I would have taken out my Nikon with wide-angle zoom, which mostly results in all heads turning my direction. After that I usually have to reinvent the situation by giving directions to the person(s) photographed. When I held the compact Sony nothing happened. I just took the picture. The man came over to my table, looked at the picture on the tiny screen and walked up to others in the bar to show them ‘how cute’ the dog was.

This simple snapshot is dear to me. It is a picture that does not fit in any of the series of photographs I have made over the years. It shows happiness, whereas most of my photographs – with the exception of some of my studio portraits – mirror a rather grim view on people. I guess I am finally there; I have started to piss Holy Water too.

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I see a lot of ‘current mood’ icons or images on discussion boards and I am always fascinated. Maybe I focus on the wrong sites, but few people set their ‘mood graphic’ to ‘happy’. I assume that is considered to be corny amongst those posters.
Apparently one has to do better: angry, depressed, horny, frustrated… Anything – as long as it breathes some real life in pages generated by a program on a machine.

My moods switch so often during the day that I would probably develop stress trying to punctually update my mood settings.
However, one has to try everything at least once. It is not a real mood picture I am posting but a perfect projection of my feelings when I stood in front of the mirror this morning to shave. All I could see was a stuffed pig. I still recall those ‘bad hair days’ from my youth. Apparently things can get worse.

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