A lumen print and a poem...

As I lie in my bed, my heart and mind are fighting an endless battle with my soul. I find solace in listening to a song that I suddenly started humming in the shower.

It’s hard not to get lost in a maze of words friends say, but are of those only lovers speak. Until you see a shooting star and all I could wish for was you.

Your laughter and pain is tugging at me. My end of the thread feels full of tension. And when you cry, I cry. It’s a comforting thought that your cookies are safe, and I hid the ones that belong to all the meanies.

In this moment of sleep I will transcend distance and time and we will tell mesmerising stories from when we were young. Or hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Whichever comes first… Dreams that act like a road full of autumn leaves that only we can walk.

The morning starts with a cup of coffee that will be drank in the company of birds. A pigeon says hello while my last sip reminds me of the footprints you left in my soul. I will pick you some flowers when I see you again. I hope you think they are beautiful.

Istanbul - Me, my camera, and sometimes a pen...

only me
my camera
and sometimes a pen

time flies by too fast
and I am too slow...

will I ever have enough time?
I do my best...

it doesn't matter what I say
or do
I have no control

tijd om lost te laten
or hold on
it feels like sand

I called home
niemand thuis

sometimes it seems
that the people in the street
can read my mind

they look
they stare
they are like sculptures of what my heart feels

I sometimes say I never believed
but somehow
yet
from the beginning
I always did

I'm tired
Someone else falls asleep
another phone
should I pick up?

I see a tree
the sky turns bright
daglicht

a flock of birds
I wish they were
something else
time to go home...

Handcoating silver gelatin.

Coating my own silver gelatin paper has always been a goal of mine. It’s a rare and challenging technique that offers greater creative freedom and allows me to select the paper and shape that align with my artistic vision, while still preserving the rich tonal range of silver that I adore. Although not commonly seen in the silver process, I wanted to take on the challenge.

After some experimentation, I finally achieved my goal. Using the Adox Poly warmtone emulsion and applying it on Vinczemillhandmade cold pressed 400 gram paper, I produced a unique and original work of art, a one-of-a-kind edition that I’m particularly proud of.

The final outcome is truly stunning, and I believe it showcases the beauty and allure of this intricate process.

My grandfather was an alcoholic...

My grandfather was an alcoholic… He was also a sailor, and it was at sea where he developed this condition. What else is there to do than to drink fortified wine and talk to the fishes in the darkest moment of the night. We used to hide the booze when he came over in case he might drink it all…

I loved him dearly though… He was along with my other grandfather, a super hero.

He was big and strong. Had tattoos all over his body. And around his neck there was a tooth of a shark that he caught somewhere along one of the eastern African coasts. It must have been the Red Sea or the Gulf of Aden, because I found papers of my dad passing through the Suez canal, who was on that very same boat.

After me and my family had to leave our house because we had to run for our stepfather because he did something so horrendous we just had to leave. It was at my grandfather it was where I stayed the longest. My sisters went in one direction, my mother and I in the other.

We left everything… And took nothing more than the most important things. Clothes, some little memorabilia, my bicycle made it. My uncles helped us out moving things as quickly as possible.

I don’t know how many places we stayed until we finally had a house again. But it was weird, and I was still relatively young. We stayed at my uncle’s for while. But when I finally stayed at my grandparents I could sleep at the place where I always slept when there was a sleepover.

Read the comic books of the Red Knight, and daydreaming away when I was playing at the attic. I loved daydreaming… I still love it so much… I could create imaginary worlds out of nothing. He also had one book that was about boats, and when I opened up the hardcover it was full of mythical sea creatures that fisherman saw when they roamed the world seas…

One day we got into an argument. I just wanted to draw on the dining table. But my grandfather was grumpy and I didn’t do what he wanted. He was always grumpy… I don’t know if it was because of the bottle, his tough sailor nature, or it was because I was invading his space… Could even be all of the above…

It was not a good time for all of us… My grandparents didn’t have much money either, and since he stopped going to sea because he was to old, they were at that time living on their pension check. Yet they kept us around because there simply was no other place to go. It was there or the streets…

He did tell me plenty of bedtime stories though… About his adventures… When he was still at sea. He went everywhere… If I could only see those places he saw… He was my real life Indiana Jones…

He was also an amazing artist… He knew how to draw… And every time I asked him to draw a monster or a dragon, or whatever… He drew it! I didn’t know anything about art back then. But at those moments he was like van Gogh or Vermeer. It was the most magical thing I have ever seen…

My daydreaming was on overdrive! What if I was on a boat!? And if I could find those creatures! How amazing could this be! Or a knight! Yes, I want to be a knight…

I don’t have that book anymore… Or one of his drawings… It would have been amazing though. But there is not much left of my childhood anyway. I do have his old sea maps, which I keep in a safe place to create something beautiful out of them one day.

We had to leave a lot of family photo albums behind anyway… And whatever happened to the rest… No one knows… It eventually became one of the many reasons why I believe printing is so important.

He taught me other valuable lessons as well. Like hard work, never giving up. And another one, was being inventive. He had a knack for making things just work. Because when there's no money, you have to. There is no quit. It is either go, or not having anything. That became very relevant for us later in life.

My grandparents said goodbye to us when we finally got a house. It was in the worst neighbourhood you could imagine. It was a small apartment on the 4th floor. I had my own bedroom, but my sisters had to share one. All of our furniture came from the thrift shop. And our first television we had was not much in comparison to what we had before we had to leave everything. But we had a VHS of the moon landing, and that was all I needed to provoke my daydreaming and creativity.

My mom made money cleaning houses on a holiday resort for tourists. That was definitely not enough to raise 3 kids on her own. And it explained why my piggy bank miraculously sometimes was empty and full again. Only to know that if that didn’t happen there literally wouldn’t be any food.

I didn’t know how we survived that time. Shootings, stabbings, and junkies in the basement. My sisters and I dropping water bombs from the balcony on drugs dealers because we thought it was funny. Little did we know. They laughed, sometimes looked puzzled, we laughed as well.

After school I would visit grandpa. He would give me advice about bullies, and taught me how to ride a moped. And taught me self-defence. And somehow there were always meatballs involved…

I told him once… That I wanted to be the strongest in the world, like He-Man! He used to draw me He-Man as well, and he and my uncle made me a He-Man sword once.

“Grandpa, I want to be so strong! So so strong… I want to be so strong so I can protect every one that I care about, so they never have to be afraid again! I hate this life… Why are we poor? I never want to live like this again… And when I get kids one day… I will do everything in my power to give them the life I have never had… I just want to escape…”

I don’t know about other kids my age back than. But it sure wasn’t healthy… They must have been obsessed with Flippo’s or other stuff. He gave me some candy and I could look at his boats. He started making wooden boats again. He wasn’t very good anymore because of his old age. But he put his heart and soul into it.

Beside his boats was his desk… And on that desk was an old tube radio with glowing bulbs that would crackle and pop when you turned it on. He would sit in his chair and looking for reception. And when he found a radio station he could sit in his chair and just listen.

He missed the sea… I could tell…

My girlfriend at that time thought it was silly that I wanted to visit him. Friday evenings… Just being there… Enjoying his company… We got into an argument one time before we stepped out of the car when we were parked in front of the door. She didn’t want to go, but I did. I explained that I just feel he doesn’t have much time on this earth left. I can’t remember if she eventually joined me or not, but I went inside… It was the right decision.

Not that long ago he was diagnosed with cancer. Same as my dad, same as my other grandfather… Same same same same same…

I saw the once mighty ship captain with tattoos on his chest, shark tooth necklace wearing, Indiana Jones stories telling, crumble… Crying that he couldn’t walk to the toilet anymore… Afraid. Afraid of death…

He died… And on his funeral I carried his coffin to hive grave… I never cried. I wish I did…

But I picked up where you left off… I became literally one of the strongest, as I said I would. I became my own Indiana Jones… All of that because of your lessons and you as my as one of my two amazing grandfather inspirations. I made myself a good life…

Sometimes it feels that I have to excuse myself that I came this far and feel guilty. I shouldn’t… I know my heart is pure, and my intentions are good. It goes a bit easier now at a later age…

When a place feels like an escape… It always has bad memories. People can be an escape, but also places… Olympic Weightlifting was that escape for me. A way to get away from it all. My exit… And later in life sometimes you just have to flip back the pages a bit just to remember how it was.

I flipped… and I flipped and read every previous chapter. Because I was almost afraid photography was an escape as well… But luckily I realized it isn’t… I just love it. Same as when I was making music, or writing poems… A way to express myself. All my pain but also happiness… I want to make my daydreams a reality…

It is all a bonus though…

Because I don’t have to, but I want to. That is a big difference. It gives me peace of mind… That life I talked about I created it out of nothing… It is real, and it is here… I created my safety net for when the time comes I indeed can take care of my loved ones. And now I am making art with my own mythical creatures. They maybe are not mythical sea creatures… But birds and deer do the trick.

My grandfather was amazing… He was an artist, a strong man, a ship captain. Husband of my gorgeous grandmother… A teacher. An Old Spice wearing scoundrel but in a good way. A knight, and an adventurer.

A inspiration…

And most of all… He was my friend.

And if somehow you can read this… Henk, I fucking love you…

Goodbye 2022...

08:00

… is the moment in time where I look outside the window, and ask the sun: Is it time for you to wake up as well?

Only sporadically he answers…

It is strange though. I sometimes feel like the sun, but the more I think about it. 2022 made me feel more and more like that big fuzzy ball in the sky. But only the sun in winter times. Just like now… Not knowing clearly if I am ready to show my face yet.

My balcony window is steamed up… A beam of light was coming through. The light deflects a bit and scatters all over my living room because of that…

It is beautiful.

There is a saying that the sun loves the moon so much, that he dies every night to let her breathe. It makes me think... Is the moon sometimes sad about that? Does she miss him? And does the sun sometimes get cold at night?

After breakfast and morning coffee I pack my gear and prepare to go out and shoot.

I felt lonely and depressed that day… Yet I go out. Back to work, back to the grind… The places I go, the people I meet. All seems connected, it makes me happy. At least outside of the city… Each moment I am done and I finish up my day and go back to the areas where normal life happens the loneliness returns… I see a lot of people. Afraid, and always in a rush… That what strikes me always more when I come back to the Netherlands from a trip sometimes close by… And sometimes far away…

It makes me think of “The Crunch“ by Bukowski…

“there is a loneliness in this world so great

that you can see it in the slow movement of

the hands of a clock

people so tired

mutilated

either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other

one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich

the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.”

I may be thinking about Bukowski but it is conflicted by my own longing. I am more of a Johnny Cash person anyway, and his description of paradise.

Something was gnawing on me though… If you read about the photography masters, they sometimes mention that photography is a mirror. What is really inside is what comes out. And they way you view the world is a part of who you are.

I explicitly say part and not just who. Since so many things in life are so more nuanced then meets the eye. And a lot of humans are just not really one thing.

Maybe they were right. Maybe that is the reason why my photographs are always filled with melancholia. Maybe it comes from scars in my heart from they pain I carried inside for a long time... Or that I never had a “Merry“ Christmas. And the times they were Merry they were based on a lie. Maybe it is because of a society that wants me to be normal “because being normal is crazy enough” and I just want to be full of emotion and not being afraid to express myself. Or when I was a little boy my piggy bank was suddenly empty and a month later it was full again. Only to discover on a later age that was because otherwise we wouldn’t have anything to eat.

Maybe it is just me…

My day continues…

I have a coffee. I make my food…

My phone buzzes…

I could have swore it was from someone I deeply care about since everyone I regularly speak to have their own sound.

Nothing… No message at all…

I must have gone crazy…

The news is real and I read it… I scroll through social media… I see stories passing by about Iran and Yemen. An energy crisis. A kitty was also saved from a tree.

It makes me think that despite I travelled so much and learned so much. I actually know nothing. I will never know how it is to flee from your home country or how it makes you feel when there is a revolution is going on. But know that every time you tell me about it I will have a tear in my eye.

Out for groceries… Next to the super market Christmas trees are being sold. Yet it reminds me of a story of someone told me that she couldn’t take a bath because with current energy prices the costs are just too high. Do I get a tree for myself this year? My decision ends up in a “no“ and get a big ball of dough we eat at the end of the year, baked in oil, named a “oliebol”, instead.

I punish myself by working out a little bit longer…

I cycle home…

Go to bed, and when and I wake up the next morning all the autumn leaves in my head are making way for blankets of snow that cover my ever lasting thoughts and turn into a beautiful winter landscape…

Frozen… For now… Until the sun shines bright again and it is time to show what is underneath. My head could have been a snow globe.

It makes me think about love. What is love, actually? And why are we so afraid of it? I know what it is for me. Love is freedom. Love is support and letting each other grow. Love is not possessive. Whatever kind of love you are seeking for in life, love is about being whole again. I know that, and believe in that with my heart and soul. Maybe that is why it is so scary? To get what we really want in life…?

My breakfast consists of my favourite coffee and my favourite crackers. I take a bite, my phone buzzes. This time it was real…

The text made me smile.

Time to go… Time to head out… Time for the grind… To work on that photographic dream. To express myself.

It was a beautiful foggy day in the Netherlands and the fog fell over the landscape like a magical cloud with treasure hidden inside it.

It was a good day. Cold, but good.

When I got home I started writing as well… This piece…

It makes me think about that I want to write a poem… I grabbed my typewriter and set it up on my living room table… A paper is inserted in the machine… I love this paper… Grain and structure are present all over. It is perfectly imperfect… Just like me. Just like you…

I write down the words…

“i am the story of a human being
I am the wound of time
I am falling rain…”

I pause… Is it done…?

Yes…

It is done…

Happy new year and a amazing 2023…

And isn’t art beautiful?

~ Cristian

P.S. Thank you every one that made my year amazing again. You are always in my thoughts and in my heart. You know who you are. You are the ones I feel safe with. My friends and my dearest. <3

Thank you Anna-Patricia for finding me. It is beautiful to have an amazing and super sweet gallery director in your life.

Thank you Fotovakhuis for supporting me and being my second home.

And thank you everyone that always follows my adventures. 2022 was amazing. But I promise you… There are plenty of more adventures to come. And I will hopefully will finish the project I am working on soon. Good things just take time… Just keep checking in on me… And I will do the same with you.

With all my love…

Thank you…

Me working snapped by other Chris.

Signing session at the ºCLAIRbyKahn booth at Paris Photo 2022.

Expired Agfa Record Rapid paper from somewhere late 80’s begin 90’s. I started with a proof of concept a month a go and wanted to make everything perfect before I started printing for real. It is the only box I had and this paper is not being made anymore. Expired paper is not only difficult to work with both also there are tonal shifts that can be aesthetically pleasing. I wanted to finish this idea this year. It may not be a conventional way of silver gelatin printing, but projects like this help make me become a better printer in general and it also helps me thing outside of the box.

Size 72cm x 53,4 cm. Edition of 1.

Happy New Year from my little place of magic…

A colour blinds man attempt to colour photography...

A colour blinds man attempt to colour photography...

Last weekend we had beautiful winter landscapes in the Netherlands. And for me, as a colour blind dude, it even looked gorgeous.

I met up with other Chris and he had the idea to rise extra early and go deep into one of our nature reserves close by where we live.

Before I left I noticed a 120 roll of colour film lying around and decided to take it. The roll I bought actually for a totally different purpose. But more on that later…

My eyes can’t see colour. Well at least not properly. It is not that I see black and white, but I have no idea what I am looking at when I go out in the world. It is one big enigma to me… Every test that I do says that I have a different kind of colour blindness. So let’s just say it is just weird. Despite that, my favourite colour is red. I think…

So this is the result of my playing with colour on a early morning.

See it as a Christmas present for people who are curious what happens.

P.S. Before you comment on this post with remarks like: “You should shoot colour more often“, or anything similar… I appreciate it if you don’t. Those kind of remarks make me highly uncomfortable. Photography for me is about expressing myself, and how harsh it sounds I don’t press the shutter button and print for someone else. I do it because I love it and for me. That I have an audience is a wonderful bonus. :)

Even if I could see colour I believe that colour is highly overrated if you don’t know what you are doing and achieving with certain palettes.

From a functional standpoint. Colour correcting or matching socks is not something that I will ever achieve in life. :)

Colour has a very limited place in my life, and I just look at the world differently than most people. And yes, sometimes a tear is shed that I never ever will be able to do certain things in life or see certain things.

Back from Paris Photo 2022...

Paris Photo is over and I had the best best best time. :) Anna-Patricia thank youuuuu you are the best! You have no idea how happy I was. And even better, being there with my handmade silver gelatin prints and leporello booklets. I just had the best of times. :)

Also of cours thank you Robert and Philipp. You all made feel at home. :)

Now back to the darkroom. :)

Paris Photo 2022

I’ve been making this magical box and prints by hand for a special occasion that will be happening in Paris from the 10th of November until the 13th. Paris Photo 2022.

I will be there with the Clairbykahn gallery and you can find us at boot E15 together with (and the work of) Chien Chi Chang, Pascal Bastien, Philippe Halsman, Sigalit Landau and of course David “Chim” Seymour. Including the famous “Jump” photograph by Philipe Halsman.

Come say hi if you are around. I will be at the booth on the 12th from 16:00 to 18:00.

I always feel you there in my dreams...

I always feel you there
in my dreams

when I take a shower
or talk to you in my thoughts about my day

when I look outside
you are there

like a ghost
or a phantom

I’ve kissed the lips
of an angel

but that was just
in my dreams as well

Still Melancholy

Not mine, but written by George Eliot. I thought it was tot beautiful not to share.

“Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. “

- George Eliot