AGD: Are photographs less powerful now because there are so many of them in the world?

DB: No, it makes the good ones even more powerful because it hasn’t taken away the good ones. The good ones are still there. Digital and Photoshop just moved mediocrity up a stop, that’s all. They’re still mediocre – they just look better.

Another nice one:

AGD: What’s really mysterious to me, because I think that photography is an art –

DB: So do I. Well, it’s not an art. There’s that old cliché that my old mate Duffy used to use: photography and painting aren’t art. It depends on whether the person doing it is an artist. It’s true in a way.

A nice reminder that photography is not about the equipment or about technical skill, but about content, vision and style. The most important factor is (still) the (wo)man behind the camera. The camera does not produce the masterpiece. The fact that digital has lowered the threshold for entry into the field has not altered that one bit.

Being able to easily produce images does not instantly make us a Henri Cartier-Bresson or a David Bailey, just like being able to easily publish a book via an online book-printing service does not instantly transform us into William Shakespeare.

Same thing: when I wake up the next morning my head is pounding and I’m feeling nauseous, yet in the dream I was in just before waking up (which I can still clearly remember at that moment), I felt completely ok. There was no nausea and no headache.

How can this be?

Simple, you would probably say. When we’re asleep our minds are detached from our bodies, so we don’t feel the physical condition our bodies are in.

Well, that is not what science would say. The prevalent worldview of mainstream science is still a strictly materialist one. And in that view only “matter” is real. All that is really “out there” is matter, tiny particles (molecules, atoms, electrons, etc.) moving about, colliding with each other and setting off all kinds of reactions and processes (chemical, electrical, and so on). And one of those processes is the thinking we do with our brains. Thinking is a material process, the result of the workings of our physical brains.

According to science, anything beyond material entities and processes is an illusion. So there is no real mind “out there” that can in any way become “detached” from our bodies. The “mind” we experience is merely a by-product of our brain’s functioning; the effect of the atoms and molecules of our material brain moving about, colliding, and setting off all kinds of reactions. Mind = Brain.

Like they say: “Love is but a chemical reaction”. In a quote from wikiHow:

“The fact of the matter is that love involves nonverbal reactions–synaptic (chemical) connections within our brains–despite how unromantic that sounds. “

Note the wording “the fact of the matter”. “Matter” equals “Fact”. The rest is not “real”. (If you want to learn more about the materialist view, an illustrious proponent is Daniel C. Dennett.)

So my thoughts are caused by my physical brain, they are the product of the workings of physical brain-particles. At first sight I could agree with that when I’m awake: if I drink alcohol, my ability to think seriously deteriorates. And the more I drink, the worse it gets.  So there is indeed a direct correlation between the physical state of my intoxicated brain and the processes of my thinking.

But then why does that not work just the same when I fall asleep? Why am I not brawling in my dreams? Why do I feel perfectly lucid and clear right up until the moment when I wake up and the effect of the alcohol sends me swaggering and giggling on my way to the toilet? And in the morning, why do I feel completely fresh and energetic while I’m dreaming, and the moment I wake up my head is pounding and stuffed with cotton making it hard to think clearly?

Either my brain is miraculously altered from one moment to the next, or there is something missing from the materialist explanation of thinking and dreaming…

But that is not the only problem I have with the materialist view. There is a much more simple one. If my “mind” is the product of my brain, then “I” am also nothing but my brain. My thinking, and the wandering of my attention from one thought to the next, is just the result of physical reactions within my brain.

And if I “am” my brain, that means I cannot “control” my brain. The brain is supposed to be “prior” to the mind, it is its “cause”, and it’s hard to control or steer a “cause” after the fact. The product of the cause can hardly have any effect on it’s own cause.

Of course, science would explain this as a self-regulating physical process. One physical state of the brain leads to (or “causes”) the next, so one thought follows the next in a logical order. There is  no need for an external controller, the control is built in to the physical process itself. In fact, “control” would probably be the wrong term, it would be more like an “ordering” of physical processes.

But then, if I’m not really in control, how do I decide that it’s high time to get some work done, and call it quits on this blog post…?

I can understand that meat is a source of certain nutrients that we need in order to stay healthy. And that you have to procure those nutrients from other food sources if you decide to refrain from eating meat. You won’t hear me argumenting against a varied and complete diet. That’s a given. And in that sense, meat replacement certainly is a necessity. But I think the “replacement” concept is being misinterpreted by the food industry. There is no need to replace “meat” as such, you simply need alternative sources for nutrients provided by meat.

However, when I look at the vegetarian section in the supermarkets I frequently shop at, those sections seems to be all about meat. Not that they have actual meat products for sale, but all of the products available in some way directly refer to meat. The vegetarian section is also invariably located right alongside the meat products, as an extension of the meat section. And it contains all the shapes and forms the meat section has: vegetarian burgers, schnitzels, minced vegetarian “meat”, and even vegetarian salami for filling your sandwich. They all look like meat products, or at least they try their best to pose as meat products. And the vegetarian salami even tries very hard to taste like its meat alter ego (unsuccesfully – I tried it).

But do we really need fake meat?

Aren’t meat lookalikes sending the wrong message? Because they imply that meat actually is a necessity. That if you don’t eat meat you should eat something meat-like. That a meal can’t be complete without something that at least looks like meat, and preferably also tastes like it. In the worst interpretation, this is giving an anti-vegetarian message, implying that vegetarians have to “make up” for not eating meat by eating something closely resembling it.

Presumably meat substitutes are aimed at meat-eaters, trying to lure them into vegetarianism by offering a meat “alternative”. But that is not going to work, and is even counter-productive. Because vegetarian “meat” simply isn’t meat – it doesn’t taste like it at all (and it shouldn’t). But presenting it as such is bound to trigger a comparison reflex in people trying it out. When you say “this vegetarian burger replaces your hamburger” anyone who tries it out is going to compare it to a hamburger. And because they expect a hamburger, they will invariably dislike the taste of the vegetarian “burger”.

The problem is that the whole “meat substitute” concept keeps their minds firmly engrained in a meat-centered food paradigm. It promotes the idea that vegetarianism is about replacing meat with something else. Which triggers a comparison. And because the comparison is going to fail (it’s not meat), people will shy away from vegetarianism, reinforcing the idea that vegetarian food tastes “dull”, because the meat substitutes do not taste like meat.

But the whole idea of vegetarianism of course is to move away from a meat centered food paradigm. It’s not about meat substitutes at all. It’s about … vegetarianism (duh). So meat lookalikes are truly counter-productive because they perpetuate the idea that a “complete” meal contains (something close to) meat. The focus on meat replacements promotes the idea that something is “missing” in a vegetarian diet that needs to be replaced by a substitute. That a vegetarian diet is somehow “less” than a meat-centered diet.

And that is not a very effective strategy for promoting vegetarianism.

Yes, a vegetarian diet tastes differently from a meat-centered diet. Of course it does: there’s no meat in it. But that isn’t a bad thing. Meat is an acquired taste. You’ll get over it There’s plenty of subtle and exquisite tastes available in the vegetarian world.

And you don’t even need meat substitutes at all to have a complete and filling meal containing all the nutrients your body requires. All the nutrients you get from meat are plentiful available in other food sources besides meat substitutes. You can have a healthy wholesome great-tasting meal without anything even remotely resembling meat.

That is the right message for promoting vegetarianism.

Vegetarianism should not be presented as the lesser brother of a meat-centered diet. It is perfectly capable of walking on it’s own feet. Even more, it has many advantages over a meat-centered diet, so in the broader context it is “more”, not “less” at all.

So after Flickr, deviantART is now also planning to offer a ‘commercial’ outlet for its members to sell their work, by teaming up with Fotolia, a player in the (micro)stock photography market.

The question that came to my mind immediately after reading this is “Why (micro)stock?” It seems like a rather strange choice…

I mean, deviantART is primarily an artists’ community, with its own unique identity and culture, and that culture is totally different from the microstock community. DeviantART is about artistic expression, while microstock is about crunching out lots of stuff in the hope that it will sell in large enough numbers to make a profit. To me those are diametrically opposed goals, one geared to pleasing the creator of the work, the other one geared to pleasing the crowd of cheapskate photography buyers.

And the works themselves also seem to be of a totally different nature. If deviantART members live up to their status as ‘artists’, the work they produce would primarily appeal to art buyers rather than to stock photography buyers. They are created for a different purpose: individual expression vs. large scale utility. Moreover, their very nature as ‘individual works of art’ would seem to warrant a more upmarket price model than what microstock has to offer.

And finally, anyone can sell their work through a stock-house if they want to – including people who are already active on deviantART. The fact that they are artists shouldn’t stop them from also creating and marketing commercial work. So is there really a need to combine the two?

For it seems that mixing two totally different communities creates the danger of  corrupting the individuality of one of them. In the best-case scenario Fotolia will expand its activities to selling art besides commercial stock. In that case the art market will gain a new player, and the combination will create a richer audience for the deviantARTists. In the worst-case scenario however, deviantARTists will start to produce commercial stock and upload and sell it through the deviantART community, flooding the site with work that can harldy be called ‘individual art’. In this scenario there is no enrichment, only a dilution of the artistic identity of deviantART. In the end, deviantART might even become ‘just another stock-site’, not much different from the other players in the market…

I think it would have made a lot more sense had deviantART teamed up with a player that is explicitly targeting the art world instead of the commercial photography market. That would provide its members with an outlet that is geared to their specific needs, so they can remain true to their particular nature and goals as artists.

As it stands however,  it seems one of the two parties will likely have to change in order to make this awkward combination work. And since this is a battle between art and commerce, between individuality and money, I fear history shows us who the likely winner will be…

To make sure it is clear what I am talking about, merging occurs in situations where the road narrows, with the number of traffic lanes reducing from two to one (or more in general from n to n-1, but I will focus on the two-to-one situation here as it is often the most painful one). In such a two-to-one-lane merging situation all cars from the second lane need to move over into the one remaining lane. A delicate maneuver, because it depends on goodwill, cooperation, and coordination, which are not always easy to find nowadays.

In theory, what should happen is this. Within a few hundred meters or so before the point where the road narrows (the ideal point depends on the speed of traffic), cars in the second lane start merging into first lane traffic. They use their turn-indicators to signal the intention of shifting lanes, and first-lane traffic politely leaves a space so the merge can be performed safely and smoothly. In the ideal situation merging is done on an alternate basis, where car 1 in the second lane merges in between cars 1 and 2 in the first lane, car 2 in the second lane merges in between cars 2 and 3, and so on. In Dutch we call this “ritsen” (“zipping”, like in closing a zipper). This system guarantees the smoothest possible flow of traffic.

In practice, however, that is rarely what happens. Usually, long (way too long) before the ideal merge point, people already start moving over into the first lane. Of course there is nothing wrong with that, people can shift lanes whenever they want. But what happens next is really crazy. These “early shifters” for some reason start holding a grudge against drivers who do not follow their example, who have not yet moved over, who did not move over at the same point they did, or worse, who (god forbid!) choose to follow the normal procedure and continue in the second lane until the merge point (let’s call those “late shifters”).

Now, early shifters don’t like late shifters much. In fact, they treat them with outright hostility. They give them the evil eye, flash their headlights and honk their horns in anger. Early shifters especially don’t like late shifters moving ahead of them, and they are backed in this by first lane drivers in general. Some first lane vehicles even start driving in the middle of the road to prevent late shifters from passing them. I have seen duel-like situations where an angry first-laner was maneuvering left and right to block the efforts of a late shifter to get past him. The worst I personally encountered was a first-lane driver who suddenly swerved halfway into the second lane when I approached to overtake him. Generally crazy and truly dangerous behavior…

And when (or should I say if) late shifters do make it to the merge point, they are treated with the ultimate hostility: first-lane traffic sticking bumper to bumper to prevent them from merging in, with drivers ignoring them with a blank straight-ahead stare. And when the late shifter finally loses patience and claims his right to merge by forcing himself into the first lane, he is again met by flashing headlights, honking horns, angry faces, and raised middle fingers. Totally unnecessary and quite stupid behavior if you ask me.

Because the net effect of such behavior is not beneficiary to anyone. The fact that everyone is cramming into the first lane prematurely just makes the cue in that lane longer than necessary. And this is further aggravated by second-lane traffic being blocked by angry first-laners. And those hassles and duels cause yet a further delay, because effort that could go into smoothing the flow now goes to fighting and bickering. And bumper-sticking at the merge point slows down the flow some more, because it causes an accelerate-break-accelerate style of driving, which is exactly the type of driving that lengthens traffic jams. And finally, all this anger and aggravation just causes a general rise in hostility, anxiety and blood pressure, and heightens the chance of escalation into road-rage.

So why does this happen, and why does it happen so often? Because in my experience it is more the rule than the exception, so there must be an explanation of why people become early shifters, and  why early shifters become so aggressive towards late shifters. I believe this behavior is sparked by a combination between the social drive to be a good citizen, and downright egocentric individualism.

Besides ignorance of the principles of flow efficiency, premature lane shifting can be explained by the fundamental social drive of wanting to fit in with the group. In a traffic-merging situation this drive is expressed through the willingness to ease the flow of traffic by performing the task of merging at an early stage. The closer to the merging point, the denser the traffic, so early shifting is a gesture that says: I know we have an awkward maneuver up ahead, so I will perform it now when there is still more room and I am not encumbering on anyone. In itself this is a great social gesture, made with nothing but good intentions. So then why does it turn into its opposite so easily?

A possible explanation is that the lane shift also involves a role shift. As long as they were in the second lane, early shifters were on the asking side, they needed something from first-laners: space to merge in and continue their journey. But once they have completed the merge, they become givers who are now in turn being asked to show their own goodwill. But they feel they have already done just that by shifting early, so they are not inclined to give much more. And when they see late shifters passing them and merging ahead of them, they start feeling taken advantage of.

Furthermore, because early shifting is done with good social intentions, early shifters start seeing late shifters as a-social, as people who are not willing to ‘fit in’, who take advantage of other people’s good will and generosity. As such they become ‘the enemy’, against which early shifters feel they should defend themselves. And the most efficient way of doing this is by blocking late shifters, preventing them from overtaking, or not allowing them to merge at the merge point, because that alleviates both frustrations of early shifters at the same time: they are no longer being taken advantage of, and they justify their decision to shift early by forcing late shifters to do the same.

And this is where egocentrism kicks in. We basically all want to be right, and we all want to be first, and late shifters defeat early shifters on both fields: although they were originally behind, they manage to merge in ahead, and this greater efficiency proves the early shifters wrong. So it’s a psychology thing, where the angry early shifters sacrifice the wellbeing of the group (the smoothest possible flow of traffic) for their own psychological wellbeing. Their actions may well be inspired by good intentions at the start, but become completely egocentric at the end.

The core of the problem is that those people are apparently not willing to accept the consequences of the decisions they take. Just like a five year old who is losing a game and starts cheating or picking on his opponents, early shifters start blaming others and resort to force to prove themselves right when they find that the decision they have taken is not to their own benefit.

Let me restate that I have nothing against early shifters as such. I gracefully leave everyone the privilege of taking their own decisions. It’s just that when you take a decision, you have to live with the consequences – at least in the adult world.

So what I want to say to those people is: Yes you may merge early, by all means! But that is your decision. It is not mine, so don’t hold me accountable for it.

It’s easy really:

• Take a decision
• Accept the consequences
• Live with it
• GROW UP!

G.

For those of you not familiar with Begium, all citizens here have an identity card which contains a number of personal information items (name, address, unique identification number – yes, they have us all neatly numbered over here – date of birth, gender, etc). We’ve had this for a long time, and it used to be a rather straightforward laminated cardboard card (well, actually a bit more sophisticated than that of course, with the necessary security features etc) which contained all information in plain human-readable form. Nice and simple because you always knew what was on it and everybody you showed it to could easily read the information.

A few years ago however (I believe it was 2005), our beloved and ever so progressive government decided that this was not enough, that such a straightforward ID card was just too old-fashioned and so totally not up to speed with the current state of technology, that the situation was simply intolerable. Something had to be done. The decision was made that those ugly dinosaurs should be exterminated and replaced as soon as possible by flashy techie electronic ID cards (you know, the type of card of which you already carry a few dozen around, used by banks, security systems, libraries, shops, and what have you).

The idea was that this decision would put Belgium firmly on the map of technological advancement, because we would be the first (yes, 1st) country to implement such a nifty system. Bill Gates even came to Belgium in person to congratulate our government for being so visionary, and promised he would have MSN adapted to work with the e-ID (which is probably what reeled in the government ). That was back in 2005. Since then we haven’t seen Bill again, MSN does not know about the e-ID (surprised, anyone?), but we are all getting one anyway. So just the other day I was invited to collect my brand new electronic ID card from the municipal service of the town I have recently moved to. Great, finally, couldn’t wait. Except for…

Well, except for a few not so great features of being on the forefront of technological innovation.

One of the advantages of an e-ID is of course that the information stored on it is dynamic. So when you move to another adress, you don’t need a new ID card, the data can just be updated to reflect your change of address. For example, today I went into the bank, inserted my e-ID into a card reader, and my address data in the bank’s systems were automatically updated and verified. Very nice. But, being dynamic also means that the information is no longer available in human-readable form on the outside of the card. So you can only check someone’s address if you have the necessary equipment to read the electronic data. And since Belgium is the first to implement the e-ID, this necessarily means that no other country in the world has the means for reading the data. So much for the advantage.

So when I want to, let’s say, check in to a hotel in a foreign country (our neighbor Holland will do for example), I give them my ID card, and… well, basically they don’t know what to do with it. Although they have my name and picture (luckily those are still visible on the outside), they have no means of getting at or checking my address – which they need for their administration of course. So, ouch, the nifty e-ID does have a practical downside. But, nothing to fear however, our beloved and ever so cunning government has come up with a solution to this problem. Since being the first implies that the rest will follow sooner or later, they came up with a “temporary” solution: when we collect our e-ID cards, we also get a (don’t laugh) “proof of address” document, an A4-sized letter stating our address, with the necessary stamps and signatures to make it official. So now we have an ID card half the size of what it used to be (very handy), but we do get to carry around an A4 sized letter with it… duh. Of course, this is “only a temporary measure”, to be used only so long as the other countries haven’t ‘progressed’ to the e-ID yet. So I guess at some time in the future, when the rest of the world has finally also discovered the wonders of the e-ID, we can rip the A4 dragon to pieces. Yeah right, as if that is going to happen any time soon .

Another nasty side-effect of wanting to be “the first” is that it implies you are not waiting for the rest. Our beloved but ever so reckless government was so eager to be at the pinnacle of technological evolution, they did not stop to think about “the others”. And for a country the size of Belgium, those “others” can be rather important. After all, Belgium is only a tiny country (with fewer inhabitants than New York), so it does not have much political weight outside of the larger group of the European Union. And of course, the e-ID is a good concept, with a lot of potential, so the European Union was bound to embrace it in the end. And in the meantime they have done so. Only, they were smart enough to think about doing it as a group, so they debated about it and came up with a standard for the European e-ID, to make sure its implementation would be identical across all member states. And guess what? The standard they came up with is not what has already been implemented in Belgium. So although we were the first (“yeah!”) we are now stuck with a solution that does not fit in with the rest of Europe (“bummer!”). And so maybe in the near future we might have to carry around another A4 sized letter, properly signed and stamped, stating that although this person’s e-ID is unreadable in the rest of Europe, it is actually a real and official e-ID, and the holder should therefore please not be arrested for forgery .

Finally, and this is not attibutable to our beloved but slightly short-sighted government, there also seem to be some quirks in the implementation of the Belgian e-ID card. I work in the IT sector, and that gives me the privilege of hearing some of the more juicy behind-the-scenes details of the digital side of life. And apparently, whoever implemented the e-ID card system ended up storing the information on it in free text format, including the date of birth information. A date in a plain text format, with no restrictions on input – you don’t have to be a geek to understand that that is not a wise decision. Apparently the input format is left to the person who enters the data, and apparently there are many different people entering the data, because the field contains many different formats (I heard this from someone who works on building software to operate on the e-ID information, so I don’t know first-hand how accurate the info is or how bad the situation is). Anyway, in computers dates are normally numbers of some sort, while only what is shown to users is human readable (you see “January 1, 2008” but this is converted to a number behind the scenes, which can then easily also be shown in other formats like “2008-01-01”, “01/01/08” and so on). This makes the data consistent, as there is only one way it is stored, over which the user has no control. Consistency also makes it easy to process the information automatically – which is the primary reason for storing it digitally in the first place – since the program that reads the info has a single and fixed algorhythm to interpret it – it does not have to guess at what the users were thinking when they entered the data. So storing a date as plain text makes it practically unusable for automatic processing. Plain text is a big IT no-no, only to be used for data that cannot be controlled content-wise (like a “remark” field or something). Whoever came up with the idea of storing the date of birth as plain text should be fired – this person should not be working in IT.

So although we have a beloved government, it wouldn’t have been a bad idea for them to stop and think before acting. That might really have put Belgium on the technological map, and made sure the Belgian e-ID would elicit more than just a chuckle when it is mentioned to the rest of the world.

G

But since it was a sunny and relatively warm day, and I had my son with me for the weekend, I thought it might actually be fun for him, and decided to take part for the first time. I let him choose the location (from a carefully narrowed-down shortlist of course), and with all the wisdom of his almost 4 years of age, he chose to visit a castle  – surprise! – so we went to visit the Castle of Gaasbeek. The castle was housing an exhibition of selected works by various contemporary artists, so it had both the castle-fun-and-excitement for my son, as well as some history and art for his dad to enjoy.

Because of it being a sunny day there was probably an even larger crowd than usual. In any case there were a lot more people than I expected, and I already expected the worst. But in spite of that, it actually turned out be great fun for the both of us. My son insisted on doing the tour of the interior of the castle twice – he just couldn’t get enough of all the winding corridors and staircases – and I was pleasantly surprised by the castle itself – really beautiful – and by the art on exhibition (which as a result of my son’s enthousiasm I also got to see twice )

On display were a number of individual pieces by various artists, and the Royal Blood series of photographs by photographer / graphic artist Erwin Olaf. If you don’t know his work, you can find it at www.erwinolaf.com, but be warned that it is at times explicit and often a bit shocking – not for the narrow-minded. I like the Royal Blood series, because of its combination of refined high-key grace with dark gory bloody effects – a perfect expression of the message it wants to convey. The photographs were very appropriately displayed along the walls of the staircase in the main tower of the Castle. Heard lots of reactions from the other visitors, ranging from chuckles to expressions of disgust. You like it or you don’t, but it doesn’t leave you cold.

Another work I really liked was Pang by Anouk de Clerq (unfortunately I didn’t find any website dedicated to her work), a photo animation with soundscape evoking the ideal image of women in the 19th century – as creatures who should be beautiful and refined, but who should not take part in public life (to be seen but not heard). It was displayed in the darkness of the attic of the main tower, with the few small windows covered by blue cellophane – giving an overall eerie effect. There was room to sit down and become immersed in the atmosphere of the work, but only a handful of visitors actually did – most came into the room, stared empty-eyed at the display for about 10 seconds, then turned around and left. They didn’t seem to have any reaction at all, not even curiosity about what was being communicated. They didn’t stop to think about what they saw. Shame. I must confess it wasn’t easy for me either – I really had to argue to convince my son to sit still for 5 minutes It struck me though that most visitors had the exact same reaction as my 4-year old son.

And that sort of sums up why I don’t usually participate in events such as Open Monument Day. Although it is of course a nice initiative to lure people out of their houses, most people taking part are really just killing time, they are not really interested in what they see. So it not only draws too large a crowd to be comfortable, it also draws people to events they would most probably not visit otherwise. The net result is you end up wading through a mass of people who are there but who are not really taking part. Too much physical presence and too little mental interest. I prefer to visit these places on other occasions, when there’s less people around, and when those that are there are there for the right reasons: to experience and enjoy.

G

It had been a hot and sunny day, and everyone was eager to get home quickly. With a good few hours of daylight remaining, the evening promised to be long and lush, and full of beckoning opportunities. And as the sun not only warms the earth but also the hearts of people, that typical mild and laidback atmosphere of summer could be felt throughout the city. Over in the park children were playing in the sun, people were sitting on benches in the shade chatting, and everywhere commuters were wearing their friendly faces.

Looking around, his wandering gaze settled on a woman at the bus stop, just in front of the park. She was standing beside a stroller with a little baby, a boy maybe two years old. The boy was playing happily with a colorful toy, tossing and turning it in his hands, oblivious of all the commotion around him. His mother was standing beside him, waiting for the bus, deeply in thought. She had positioned herself at the edge of a sunlit patch, so she could enjoy the sun while keeping the stroller in the shade, protecting her baby from the heat and the harsh rays of the sun. The mother and boy didn’t pay attention to each other, they were totally immersed in their private worlds. But it was obvious they felt secure in the comfort of each other’s presence.

For some reason the woman had caught his attention. His eyes were drawn to her, got stuck, and he just couldn’t look away. Instead he studied her intensely. He wanted to know why she stood out from the crowd, what it was about her that broke the indifference with which he had been watching the other passers-by. Looking at her somehow made him feel sad and nostalgic, but at the same time also gave him a distinctly warm feeling of consolation. He wanted to explore these mixed feelings, find out where they came from and what they meant.

Perhaps it was the casual way in which she was standing beside her son, how they were carelessly enjoying the afternoon sun. Or how they unquestionably belonged together. Perhaps it was because her love and caring comfort for the baby were beyond any doubt. They were united by an invisible but clearly present bond, the bond that allows a child the freedom to explore the world knowing its mother is always there, looking out, watching over, taking care. With consolation only a faint cry away.

This union between parent and child, the warm bond that every child deserves, experienced by two complete strangers on a sunny afternoon made him feel sad and nostalgic. It reminded him of when he himself was still a little boy in the comfort of his family, in a faraway world it seemed, so long ago now the memory had almost gotten forever lost in the cracks and crevasses of the everyday humdrum. And its distant memory, although beautiful, made him sad, because he knew it was indeed forever lost. Because he knew it would never return, and because he knew not every child always gets what it deserves.

The dance of life comes in many rhythms, and not everyone is an equally good dancer. Some prefer a different tune, some are just plain clumsy, and some tread on each other’s toes once too often. And when the rhythm breaks down and the music stops and there is no more point in dancing, we are suddenly confronted by the stillness of the barren floor. Some of us are lucky enough to waltz through life in blissful ignorance of this desolate solitude, but for others it is a harsh lesson learned way too early.

When she caught his stare, the woman looked at him cautiously for a moment, then smiled, as if to say she knew what he was thinking and trusted him. Her smile was not a woman’s smile, but that of a mother. The kind of smile that puts a baby to sleep night after night, and greets it happily into a new day every morning. A smile that tells other people how proud she is to be a mother, how well she feels in the presence of her child. Her smile invited him to take part in the joy of human happiness she was experiencing.

He didn’t smile back. He knew she couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. And he knew he could never accept the invitation. For they were on opposite sides of a line which he had crossed a long time ago. They were living in different worlds, dancing a different dance, moving to a different rhythm. And the realization that his feet were happy and he would never want to go back made him feel sad. But the woman’s smile also gave solace, because it reassured him there was still someone on the other side, looking out.

The sudden honk of a car horn startled him. He looked up. The lights had turned green. The driver behind him was urging him to move on. He put the car in first gear and drove off, his attention shifting back to the busy traffic. He was almost home, almost back together with the one he loved. The woman and her baby were still waiting at the bus stop, in the warmth of the afternoon sun, together by themselves. An island of security, comfort and love in the hectic rush hour world.

G.

I remember the movie had a big impact on me the first time I saw it. I was profoundly touched by it, I felt connected to the mood and to the story on a very deep emotional level. It was one of those movie-experiences where you turn off the TV after the movie ends because you don’t want to break the mood it got you in, and you just sit on the couch for a while thinking about what you saw and how it made you feel.

So when I was browsing the DVD section of the supermarket a while ago and came across a box with 2 movies by Wong Kar-Wai (In the Mood for Love and 2046) I bought it because I wanted to see that movie again, to relive the experience and share it with my girlfriend J, who had not yet seen it.
Very briefly, the story is about two couples who become neighbors in an apartment building. After a while the man of one couple and the wife of the other couple (the main characters in the movie) discover that their spouses are having an affair. This also brings the two main characters together, as they start spending time with each other to talk about the situation, and gradually they also become attracted to one another. They don’t want to be like their husband and wife though, so they do not actually start a relationship, but decide to salvage their marriages.

The first time around, what touched me the most was how the main characters were brought together by chance and by their unhappiness with their existing relationships, and how they gradually became attracted to one another while at the same time realizing they did not want an affair. The impossibility of their attraction and love somehow made me feel sad.

When I was watching the movie for the second time however, it was a totally different experience. During the first half of the movie (when the main characters gradually become attracted to one another) I wasn’t really moved that much at all – at least not to the same extent as the first time. What did speak to me strongly this time however was the end of the movie, where the main characters look back on their ‘relationship’ a few years later, after they have lost sight of each other and have each moved on in life.

Questions about the meaning of their time together, and about what would have happened had they made other choices remain essentially and necessarily unanswered, since they are hypothetical questions. They both still yearn for each other, and look back with affection to their time together, but because of the choices they have made that episode can never be more than a memory, a secret they each carry with them. And its meaning will never be clear either, because there will never be anything more than that vague nostalgic yearning. An off-camera commentator voice says something in the style of “looking back into the past is like looking through a dirty window: everything becomes hazy, nothing is clear”. It was this nostalgic look at our personal histories and the choices we make in life that really spoke to me this time.

I was surprised and wondering about my different reactions both times I saw the movie, and about the fact that neither of these experiences were shared by J, who was not particularly touched by the movie at all. She liked it and found it esthetically pleasing, but she was not emotionally touched by it at all. At first I was a bit disappointed about not being able to share such a deep emotional experience with the person I love. But then it started me thinking about what exactly it was that I connected to in the movie, and why that had been different on both occasions, in the hope of finding out why it had not affected J.

After a while I concluded that each time my reaction had been inspired by my personal situation. The first time I was in an unhappy relationship myself, and the second time I was getting to grips with a key emotional decision I had made in my life. So what spoke to me in the movie was essentially what I was dealing with in my own life each time. That also explained why J remained totally unaffected by it: her life situation didn’t relate to any aspect of the story, so she was not particularly touched by it.

Emotionally speaking, my two viewings and J’s viewing resulted in three totally different experiences, three totally different ‘movies’. But if each one of us projects their own situation and feelings on the story of a movie, and basically sees a different movie than someone else, then how many movies really is a movie? How many stories does one story contain? Clearly the story as it was dreamed up by the author is just one of many possible interpretations.

Each viewer has a unique way of seeing, a unique set of life-experiences and situational variables on which their interpretation of a movie will be based. So each one of those interpretations is really a unique experience. And so there really are as many stories, as many movies as there are viewers. The story as it was made up by the author becomes just a narrative framework for the viewer’s interpretation. Although the author also has put his experiences and feelings into the creation of the story (at least in the best case, if it was created with more than just commercial effect in mind), these become to a certain extent irrelevant once the story is being viewed by someone else, because they will be replaced by the feelings, yearnings and experiences of the viewer.

So when we’re in a movie theater, and the story on the screen touches us profoundly (or not at all), it may be a strange but at also comforting thought that there are literally hundreds of different stories being told that night in that theater, a different one for each member of the audience. Some beautiful, some happy, some sad, and some indifferent.

The story as it is being played out on the screen is just a narrative base, a visual and auditive framework that needs to be completed by our own feelings and yearnings to give it real emotional meaning. We, the viewers, are just as important in creating the movie as was the original author. And because the story as it was interpreted by the author is specific to that author’s personal life and can never be felt in exactly the same way by anyone else, the original story becomes only marginally relevant to the experience. In the end then, in a very true sense we all become the authors of our own personal movie.

G

Apart from a ‘conclusion’ to the Holiday in Tuscany series, this post can also be used as a kind of summary if you don’t want to wade through all the other posts, as it provides a more succinct overview of (most of) the main points made in the other posts .

In general, our trip to Tuscany was a great vacation and we enjoyed our (short) stay very much, but we had to get used to a few peculiar aspects of Italian life.

One surprise was the curtness and seeming ‘unfriendliness’ with which some people (in shops, bars, restaurants, etc) reacted to us. We had several occasions of waiters ‘throwing’ cutlery on the table, shopkeepers ‘throwing’ change on the counter, or service personnel reacting bluntly to our inquiries. ‘Throwing’ should of course not be understood here as in ‘throwing from a few meters away’, but rather as in ‘putting on the table by means of a technique which relies substantially on gravity’ .

It wasn’t like that all the time or with everyone, but it happened frequently enough to attribute it to more than chance. Maybe it’s a general cultural ‘nonchalance’ thing, maybe Italians don’t like tourists, or maybe we just ran in to the wrong people, I don’t know. Anyway, after a while we got used to it and sort of chuckled at it every time it happened.

Another thing to get used to is Italian driving habits. Our guidebook advised not to drive in Firenze unless you are positively confident behind the wheel. We found that to be true, and in some respects – although perhaps to a lesser degree – the same can be said about Tuscany (Italy?) in general. Driving can be a bit of a chaotic experience at times, and you have to get used to people driving pretty fast and not always respecting traffic lane boundaries. But on the other hand, if you’re a confident enough driver it can be real fun to blend in and just join in with the local driving style – although I’m sure J has a completely different opinion on that matter (sorry for the scary and nauseating moments I put you through darling! )

The greatest things about Tuscany for me were undoubtedly the landscape and the architecture. Although I knew roughly what to expect from the many photography books covering the region, being there in real life to admire the Crete Senesi landscape with my own eyes was still an overwhelming experience. I did find that our guidebook was a bit too poetic about it though, as it still remains a region inhabited by people going about there everyday lives, so there is a certain amount of ‘everyday-life ugliness’ to be found there as well (you know: apartment blocks, factories, …). But still, overall it is one of the more beautiful inhabited regions I have visited so far – although I’m still convinced that nothing beats mother nature left to her own ways.

And as a second caveat, high summer presents only one face of the Tuscan landscape, with mostly rather hazy conditions because of the heat, and with a predominant golden-yellow color of the harvested fields. While certainly beautiful, I suspect we did not witness Tuscany at its absolute best, and I will certainly return one day to see what it looks like in other seasons (spring and fall are prime candidates of course).

Next there is Tuscan architecture. To be clear I am talking here about historic buildings only, although some of the modern buildings styles are not too bad either – but unfortunately Tuscany has not been spared of the ugliness of modern-day functional architecture and so there are a lot of places I would abhor to live in even in Tuscany. Now I knew Tuscany had old buildings, but the sheer number of them really surprised me, and what blew me away was that so many town-centers were still full of them. Walking through the late-medieval town center of Siena is an experience all by itself. Really impressive, and something I did not expect when I was planning the trip.

And as that are only the ‘common’, ‘every-day’ medieval buildings, the ones that are not mentioned in travel guides, you can imagine what the ones that are mentioned are like: absolutely stunning – and that is putting it mildly. Although we didn’t visit the Duomo of Firenze because it had a few hundred tourists lined up in the blistering afternoon heat at every entrance and we were not in the mood to get fried or squashed, we did visit the Siena Duomo, and that one was certainly worth the visit. It is built using an alternating combination of black and white stone which gives it a unique character – a bit ‘lego’-like but on a grander scale . Inside it is so richly ornamented you would probably need more than one day to take in every detail. Here’s an impression of the inside.

Duomo of Siena - Interior view

Finally, I have to mention another great discovery I made in Tuscany: wine. Now I knew about Chianti, and I knew there were some really great wines there, but so far I had not yet encountered (don’t ask me why) the wines from Montalcino and Scansano. And after having been introduced to them, I am delighted to say that I can add another grape to my list of absolute favorites (next to Shiraz and Malbec): Sangiovese. A wonderful grape with a surprisingly soft pallet which is sublimely crafted in superb wines like Brunello di Montalcino and Morellino di Scansano. If you haven’t done so yet, you absolutely positively have to try them; they are such a magnificent glorification of the powers of mother nature they just might make you a deeply religious person .

So, after all this greatness, what is there left that I would want to return to Tuscany for (except of course to just do it all again)? One thing I didn’t get enough of is culture – their just wasn’t enough time to visit any museums, or to visit the undoubtedly beautiful interiors of the many historic buildings. On a next visit I will certainly try to put in more of that.

And I would like to return in a different, less hot season, as I already mentioned. Not just to see if the beautiful landscape can look even better than it did in summer, but also to be able to more comfortably visit a few cities, and especially Firenze. As I said in another post, Firenze was a bit of a let-down for us because we were there for only one day (afternoon really), and that happened to be one of the hottest of the year, and from the looks of it also one of the most crowded ones. So I definitely would like to visit Firenze in the off-season, when it is less hot and (hopefully) less filled with tourists. And not just for the architecture and the art, also for shopping, which we didn’t get around to do at all – shame on us! .

Anyway, as you can see, we had plenty of reasons to travel to Tuscany, and we came back with just as many reasons to return .

G