Reminiscenses

Happiness is a quiet emotion, filled with colors and radiating warmth to other people.

My beloved wife Nicole had these qualities. She often smilingly, called herself a four colors pen with which she loved to write as a child, after having bought a bouquet of flowers or a new shirt. Nicole had a fine sensitivity for the well beïng of family and friends. And had a soft spot for children with disabilities or chronic diseases. She wanted to become an intensive care nurse for children, but circumstances didn't allow for that.

Her extravert personality matched surprisingly well with my more introvert character. Accepting that making a photo might take 20 minutes, while reading a book in the car. And allowing for some of my photo's to be hung in the livingroom. But these she really liked.

After her death a few months ago, I could capture my internal reflections of these qualities in a photo. A lily from one of the many bouquets from her funeral. Soft colors, tranquilly radiating outward. The revival of the senses when seeïng her alive, now slowly becoming memories, fading into eternity, abstractions with faint structures, reminiscenses, still residing in my brain.

Le Dernier Déjeuner Dînatoire

Last year our mother died at the age of 103 years. Our father died 20 years earlier. They had lived in harmony in the same house for more than 60 years. A beautiful house, leaving many memories. And it had to be emptied. Chairs, tables, beds, books, paintings, lamps, plates, glassware, cutlery, etcetera. Every object told a story. And we retold them. Our mother had studied piano at the conservatory. And after we had left the house, she took up lessons again. The music of many composers could be heard, but Schubert was her favorite. At her birthday, we used to have a déjeuner dînatoire, a warm lunch, but the french way of announcing was used as it was in former times. And we decided to have that meal together for a last time in the house we had lived for so long.

The rooms were filled with antiquities and nice paintings. The 1884 Bechstein grand piano took a prominent place and still produced a beautiful deep sound. Showing the markings of touch and time. Walls showed the gosts of paintings, a display cabinet and other objects. Burn marks from many candles were visible on a 17th century crucifix, coming from the morgue of an old hospital. An Empire clock that was given to our father by his mother after receiving his doctor’s degree, was refurbished and still sounds its bell every half hour. The living room and their bedroom were furnished in Louis-seize style. Many times our mother set at her dressing table before goïng to a concert or dinner with friends. Fashion of times gone by emerged from cabinets and drawers. Our father set behind his desk for many hours and left his impressions on his chair.


We enjoyed our dernier déjeuner dînatoire, reliving many events and slowly but certainly vanishing from this house. As a last deed we burned their love letters, always kept together with a ribbon, locked away in her cabinet and never been read by anyone else. We left some empty chairs for the next residents.

Monochromes and Oligochromes

When color disappears, structure stays

creating another view on the world

coloring the mind