For 2 years on and off we join the routines of residents and home makers of Pottenberg in Maastricht. We get an apartment, we live here, we make a home, we integrate ourselves in this neighbourhood. We learn and follow the ones who transform their house, neighbourhood, surrounding into homes. For themselves and for others.
Artistic team: Zsofia Pazcolay, Marina Orlova, Biljana Radinoska , Lisanne van Aert, Jetske Verhoeven, Alice Pons and Olivia Reschofsky. Exploring together new ways to collaborate, to engage into this long term research, to share our different processes and pass it on to others.
part of We live here - in collaboration with Via Zuid, Cultuur makers Maastricht, SOAP and WoonPunt
DAY 168 (Jetske and Olivia)
written by Jetske
It’s a sunny morning and I meet Olivia at spoor 4B from where we get into our train down south. During the ride we talk about life, motherhood, our big guys, our little guys and so on. Enough to exchange. Our final train stop today is Roermond (Ruurmuundj), homeland of my mother. I remember the accent, the landscape and the sweet softness of its Vlaai from my childhood.
At the station we meet Jackie who has gone through a lot of trouble to swap her van from her sister's family car so I can fit in too. So nice. She drives us to Genk, Belgium. I sit in the back and while Jacky and Olivia talk about the arts in Limburg, I close my eyes and try to make my eyes soft so I can ‘de-stress’ a bit. Since my burnout three years ago, life wears me out pretty quickly, as my nervous system seems over-sensitive. I realise that I have adopted a rigid routine in these last years and I have not been exposed to long-durational social situations since the start of the burnout. I feel slightly nervous about the coming days…
Jackie takes us to a performance by a young Belgium collective: Elan(d). It is an interesting performance for several reasons and we have a good talk with the makers afterwards. When we get to the apartment, we’re pretty tired and very hungry, so we drop our stuff and Olivia shows me the way to the shopping mall. It’s my first encounter with Pottenberg. I take one photo: that of the Evangelical church; I like the way the two white crosses on its rooftop form a dynamic cubical sculpture as we walk by.
Back home we eat some tasty Chinese take-away. I’m pleasantly surprised about the good atmosphere in the apartment with all its carpets and pillows and added details. The girls did a good job! At ten o’clock we both collapse and go into our own bedroom. I open the window to get some fresh air in, but I become aware of the constant noise of passing cars. (It’s the way their rubber tires slightly stick to the asphalt (both made out of oil). Still, I decide to leave the window open and put my earplugs in. My alarm-clock is set for 3 am, as part of my sleep-training. I’m trying to get to a more natural sleeping rhythm, dating from times when the Industrial revolution forced us into an efficient working-schedule. Silly enough I still need an alarm clock to help me with this…
DAY 169 (Jetske and Olivia)
written by Jetske
The Walk
It’s supposed to rain the whole day, but when we look outside the weather is not too bad.
I manage to get up at 6 (also part of the new rhythm:) and I enjoy doing Chi Kungs on the balcony, seeing the sun come up over Mammoth’s backyard. The trees have beautiful autumn-colours!
After Olivia wakes up, we have a short breakfast and we go outside for a walk through the neighbourhood. First we stop under the trees in front of the building, and we do a little Chi-Kung session together, to see if Olivia can get rid of her headache. We wave our arms around our bodies and wave some more at a surprised passer-by. After this nice warming up (the headache is still there) we enter the bike shop in search of bikes. Originally we wanted to have our coffee at the corner bar (‘Here in Limburg we drink our coffee before getting started’, says a friendly Bourgondian Maastrichtenaar who’s outside trying to convince us to come in), but we decide to postpone it for now. We visit the grocery shop with ‘punten’ where Olivia falls in love with the jungle puzzle covering the whole back wall.
We are refused entrance at the 2nd hand clothing shop because we ‘just want to have a look’. Covid-anxiety has returned. Then, we follow the Potteriestraat and peek in at neighborhood house, De Romein, and its typical Buurthuis-interior. We have a look at the communal garden of which the gate is locked with a big lock. It is like someone pulled the plug out of the bathtub and all livelihood has flooded out of this area. We walk the streets in the direction of the golfbaan. Olivia needs to be patient with me; somehow my old and forgotten habit of taking photos of ‘human architecture' comes back to me and I feel almost everything is just so worthwhile capturing. I guess I’m inspired.
We have a nice walk and I enjoy the increase of green when we are getting to the outside edge of the suburb. The typical colour of the clay soil on a farming field reminds me of my grandfathers’ little vegetable-garden, not far from here geographically but in distant times. Leeks, potatoes, knolselderij. He loved to work in his little neat garden. And the veggies would all end up in my grandmothers’ tasty vegetable soup (with broth and meatballs, salted with Maggi).
I was prepared by my co-artists, but when getting to see the golf course, the villa park and the Disney-like wellness-resort, it’s hard not to have an opinion. Pottenberg's apparent poverty on one side, and such excessive (and exclusive!) luxury in its backyard. I can see how some eloquent ‘ambtenaar’ smelled economical profit and tried to convince the local council that the Pottenbergers would also profit from this enterprise in their backyard…What used to be there before? Just forest/fields?
Family visit
When we get home we have lunch. Olivia has a bad headache and we both have a nap, also part of my back-to-nature program :) In the afternoon my father comes over for a coffee, together with his wife and they bring ‘gebakjes’. It’s not vlaai but it’s almost like vlaai. This is my motherland, but the coincidence is that while my mother since long has left the little Limburgian village where she grew up, my father ended up in Maastricht some years ago to live with his new love. It feels slightly awkward to have my father and his wife over in our apartment. It is hard for them to really grasp what we are doing here. Is this art? How? I can feel they are a bit unsettled by our domestic location. A police car passes by on the street and from their reaction I can tell they interpret it as a proof for the bad state of the area. I notice that I don’t like them to think like this about Pottenberg. Just because they are safe and sound in their comfortable house in their upper-class area. But if I’m honest, isn’t that the same for me?
Klei-dialogen
I invite Olivia to do a klei-dialogen with me. We have an honest, open dialogue while our hands are kneading the soft clay. It’s just a first experiment, but I am working out how to develop Klei-dialogen as a longer running project. For me it is about lowering down into the body. It is about feeling over thinking, about the joy of making, using the body as an instrument. I long for an honest, vulnerable and open encounter. As we are in Potten-berg; an area named after the city’s ceramic activity- would it be possible to meet neighbours and to have a dialogue with them, asking them about their well-being; their sorrows and their hopes contained in a little ceramic ‘potje’ as an answer?
Photography
Late afternoon I go out to buy aspirin for Olivia but I get distracted and I stop every second metre to take photos of autumn trees, neat gardens with symmetrical flora, window-decorations, human traces in natural sites, natural traces in human architecture. Moss grows on the tiles like party-confetti. I’m so happy making photos again (somehow this expression got blocked in me) until the thought crosses my mind that the pictures I take are abstractions. They deal with formal aspects and composition. They try to catch an archetypal layer of human behaviour. Which can be interesting, sure, but where is the interaction? Does the camera create a safe, intellectual space, a border even, between me and other people? Or is it just a starting point, an analytical observation of the area before diving in fully?
DAY 170 (Jetske, Olivia)
written by Jetske
Neoliberalism/ Who cares?
So, here I am. In a sloop-flat in Pottenberg, Maastricht. I eat, sleep, talk, walk, drink coffee, and think. But a discomforting thought creeps up in my head: am I doing enough? Am I working ‘hard enough’? I even get paid for this, that’s a novelty. So, are we doing enough, shouldn’t we do more, produce something tangible, meet more people?? Olivia and I read the blog together. It is interesting to read and I’m struck by the beautiful and intelligent observations of my co-artists. But, who is reading it? Does it have an audience enough?
I am shocked to realise how much my whole being still seems so much influenced by our Neo-liberal output-oriented climate. Can’t I feel space to let things grow slowly?? Can’t I play and fiddle around to let things grow? Do we need to measure an immediate result? I was so determined to keep up with ‘the system’ that I ended up with a burn-out. Now I’m grateful to be learning a new way of living based on health and sustainability, but I can feel how much ‘the big hurry’ is still in my system. And it’s in all of us, it’s in everything. The nurses and doctors who don’t get the time to talk to their patients. The neighbours who don’t have time to help each other out. The teachers who experience such a pressure to get the program done that there is no space for curiosity or experiment. The whole society is on the brink of burn-out. It is time to unwind. To breathe out. To get slow. To get soft. To get open. And doesn’t it start with us, refusing to keep up with this maniacal speed any longer???
Jacky brings us bikes woohoo!!!! It is so nice to bike through the city!!!!! We meet up with Jurien from Opera Zuid and have a nice talk about what they do, what Moha does. Possibly we can join forces.
At night Olivia treated me to a lovely dinner in a great Lebanese restaurant. After that visit a sneak preview at the Vrijthof theatre. It was difficult for me to grasp what we were looking at. Were they students? Was it work in progress? The set up felt a bit static in a way…high up in this chic old building, with an audience of apparent art-insiders. I guess the whole evening felt a bit like a scene from a previous life…
DAY 171 (Jetske and Olivia)
written by Jetske
Chi Kungs
It's not six but 8AM (and I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night..) when I get outside into the little fenced square on the lawn just before El Habib. There are two big trees posting at the end side of the field and there is a white chair standing in the grass underneath. It looks like a cosy and protected place. I put my glass of water on the chair and I take my stand in between the trees. A pigeon sits on one of the branches above my head. Crows croaking noisily in the Maple Trees on the roadside just behind Mammoth and some little birds, musjes of meesjes sing their song too. I try to feel my feet and bodyweight leaning on the soil. Just before I had woken up from the weirdest dream which had left me with a feeling of sadness and confusion. And a slight hangover from two wines last night. But now I stand here outside in the autumn-air and it is time to let it all go.
I start propelling my arms around me, feeling my spine twist. Then I do some shaking. Let’s shake things lose! Focus on my feet, my ankles, my knees, pelvis, stomach, all the organs, solar plexus, shoulders, neck, head. Letting the night with its dark fears slide of me and filling up my body with the light of attention. Breathing in optimistic oxygen. Two teenage boys walk past the square. They are surprised to see me there, and they make some jokes about this weird woman waving her arms. I have the feeling they were still awake from the night before. Every age has its own style. I’ve been there too, doing the nightlife-party-thing. But I’m glad to be at the age where I enjoy doing slow silly movements in a public parc in early morning :)
I would love to set up a Chi Kung club! start doing sessions with the neighbourhood. That would be great. We could train someone to do it on a frequent basis, every Saturday morning for example. Outside on the grass between the buildings. Connecting with the body, being outside, feeling connected to nature, the world around us. And being connected to each other. That’s healing on three levels! Ah well, just an idea..
Church
The Armenian Church is open! The church across the street is the biggest eye-catcher in our view from the apartment. Its bell-tower is always there in sight, rising up high above Pottenberg. But its doors seem to be always closed. Except for two Sunday mornings per month. But on this Saturday morning cars are parked in front of the church. People enter the church from one side, but leave again through the other side. We rush downstairs to see what is happening. Aha, the church morphed into a pop-up vaccination-hall. Although the vaccination-doctor clearly doesn’t like us to enter the church and take photos we make a quick round, because what we see is pretty amazing. The light that comes in through the many glas-in-lood (stained glass) windows is so magical. And the wide space with high ceiling, big beams crossing over. Even apart from the religious ornaments this is clearly a sacred space. It's beautiful. Let’s organise something inside this church!
As we leave the building, we talk about how we have lost the space for ‘bezinning’ (reflection), sacredness, silence, etc. together with the liberation from religion and its dogma. We talk about how religion can give meaning to people’s lives. How it can offer a narrative and it can hold one up in complex times. I feel a longing to create ‘new’ sacred space, but without the old icons, without the dogma, without the abuse of power or other bad news that came from wrong interpretation of religion.
Time to leave
Although there was the ‘fear’ of not doing enough it felt like we made a big journey. It was a lot somehow. Many impressions and thoughts. I’ve given up on my new natural-sleeping after the first night and I still feel the slight hangover from drinking two wines in the restaurant yesterday. On the train back we drink coca cola and eat chips and chocolate. Like two exhausted teenagers coming back from a school camp…
DAY 189 (Jetske)
Leaving a home
I love my children. And they are such angels this morning. At school they decide to make an exception and they allow me to hug them in public when saying goodbye. And then I’m off. As a free person. As an artist. As an autonomous, wandering spirit. No thinking about supper, not cleaning the mess in the kitchen, not having to remember to pick anyone up from school. I’m free, let’s get to work!
Making a home
I carry a shopping bag filled with curtains. Yellow curtains. I love yellow, the colour just makes me feel sunny. Olivia adjusted their length and brought them to my house late last night. The curtains will be nice to have in the apartment, especially now when it gets dark so early. It’s a small task to hang curtains, but it’s a funny task for me. I have proven to be a pretty useless home-maker in the last few years. It took me 5 years to order curtains for our back window and when I finally did, I chose the wrong colour. I just cannot find the time or energy to think about interior stuff. Maybe I’m just not such a homy-person? What makes a home? When do I feel at home? What is it like to be homeless? There is something in being homeless that appeals to me. Can you connect more to the ‘real (natural) world’ when you don’t have walls and a roof to protect you? Not surrounded and distracted by ‘stuff’. Not stuck on routines. Our walls and our possessions can also imprison us. But at the same time they are such a basic need. Where does ‘need’ change into excess?
Arrival
After arriving at the station I take the bus to Pottenberg. I enjoy sightseeing from the bus. It’s a pretty city, Maastricht. Is there a ceramic-factory somewhere? I should dive into that; the history of the ceramics, and its current status. I arrive at the apartment past noon, it takes me half a working day to get here…The apartment looks good. The laundry still hangs on the drying-rack, just where we left it some weeks ago. There is a little note from ‘Ad Hoc’ that they have checked the apartment and they have declared it ‘proper’. I eat what is left of my lunch on the balcony. So almost the first thing I do on entering the house is to exit it again. I guess I just like to be outside on nice autumn days like this, and I like our view from the balcony with its old trees. They have almost lost their leaves now. After lunch I go inside again and fold the laundry, and then it’s time to hang the yellow curtains. They are hanging in no-time but the rail itself is a bit crooked, so to open and close them you need to get on a chair, haha. Artist-style.
The walk
After a little rest (I took the grown-up-bedroom now I am the first one to choose :) I go outside for a walk. I walk the block behind our house to the edge of the area where the (football)field is and the clay-field. It doesn't seem bad living here. The surroundings are quiet and green. On my way back I decide to visit ‘the centre’. I am touched by the different flyers in the windows offering free food and goods for people who need it. I also see that De Romein had organised quite a lot of events in summer. Then I see this gathering in front of the munt-shop and I decide it’s time for a little conversation.
Nouri & de Gouden Munt
Nouri is sweeping autumn-leaves from the entrance of the Gouden Munt. He sweeps them to the side, just over the white lines that border the property of the shop. Nouri looks like a somewhat tidy, middle-aged, energetic guy. He comes from Bosnia. Came to Holland 20 years ago. After moving around through what seems to be most of the country he ended up in Maastricht. He lives in the area just behind Pottenberg. It’s not bad living there. There is also poverty, but it is not too bad.
Next to Nouri is a man with long white hair tied into a knot on his head, standing at a high folding-table. On the table is a bowl with fruit pieces soaking in water, and he takes pieces out to put on sticks. He also hands me one with an apple, banana and grapes. The fruit tastes watery, but still, it’s such a nice gesture.
I ask Nouri about todays’ business. Wednesday is a good day for de Gouden Munt; 250 visitors (is that what he really said??sounds a lot). In the last weeks there was an increase of visitors. Difficult times. The government thinks about money, not about social aspects, he says. Stichting de Gouden Munt has existed for 13 years now (it had to change names after 10 years, before it used the be ..?). It has 33 volunteers working for the shop. Nouri build a lot of its furniture, like the ‘kassa’, made out of two ‘kastjes, with bended wood layed over the top so the groceries can be shifted to the side.
The stichting is not dependent on government subsidy at all. They live on donations. They’ve tried different strategies over the years; all to be of help for people with low incomes in this area. First they made an art-exhibition. The profit from selling the works would be spent on ‘goody-bags’ for inhabitants. That was not a big success, they didn’t sell much. Then they just created foodboxes, and drove them around, but that was so much work. And finally, this shop came. They buy the goods, and give them to people in need who get directed to them (by?).
The area used to be different 13 years ago. All the shops were open and doing good business. There was a nice restaurant, and a famous bakery. Then already in 2015 (?) they started moving people out of Mammoth and the other flats, for the demolishing-plans. Most people accepted the offer of a new house by Woonpunt. But somehow Woonpunt and the local authorities could never come to an agreement about when the demolishing could actually start. Apparently, there is a group of older people here in Mammoth who refuse to leave. So Woonpunt cannot do anything about that. Nouri interrupts his talk to greet a 94 year old man, further down the road. He used to volunteer in the shop until last year. He had to stop because now he has to take care of his wife.
Over the years the Gouden Munt kept on receiving letters; they would really have to leave because the demolishing would start. But got postponed time after time. All of the social-shops now are of the same stichting. The breadshop, clothing shop, bicycle-shop. We should talk to Ad about our plans for the Big Collapse, Nouri says. ‘Tell him there are 6 girls who need his help, and that they have heard he has been doing his job so well over 40 years’, that will make him enthusiastic for your plans.’
I am touched by how this whole neighbourhood-centre seems to rest on the activities of de Stichting. If they would not be there it would be completely desolated.
I prepare for the talk with Theo Bovens. He is the chairman of Kans Fonds. I think that it might be a connection to us. Their approach connects very well to Moha’s. Maybe we have to get baptised though.
At night I have dinner with my father and his wife. They are very surprised we will get a visit of Theo Bovens. We google him straight away. This guy used the work for the queen/king!
DAY 189 (Zsofi)
I arrive late from Amsterdam by train. I tell Jetske not to wait for me and that she can leave the keys somewhere hidden downstairs. She wraps it in paper and places it above the letter boxes, which should not be visible for someone who is not searching for it. I get in, I carry my huge suitcase, I try to be silent. I notice a bike in the living room, the yellow curtains have arrived too, they look great. Jetske leaves hot tea and a cup for me on the desk. I drink. It tastes spicy and perfect after a long trip. I hurry to bed so I can rest. I sleep in the purple room, Jetske prepared my bed in advance.
DAY 190 (Jetske and Zsofi)
written by Jetske
At night I hide the keys on top of the mailboxes as Zsofi would arrive late after a long trip from Hungary to Amsterdam and Amsterdam to Maastricht. The key is well hidden but in my bed in the dark I felt slightly nervous about it. Would she find the keys, or would someone else take them? And what if she couldn’t come in, she would be out there in the dark night all by herself. Poor Zsofi. So, it is that kind of half sleep I find myself in. Somewhere halfway during the night I need to pee, and I am so relieved to see that Zsofi’s bedroom door is closed and I see her suitcase. Zsofi arrived.
We meet in the morning. I had just finished my Chi Kungs on the field at the back of the building. I didn't finish my sequence completely because at one point there were so many people passing by, walking their dogs (all small sized!), I started to feel uncomfortable.
It is so nice to see Zsofi again. It's been a long time since we’ve last met. And there was always the whole Kinky-family (the name of the apartment where we used to live) present or some social context. Now it is just Zsofi and me, great. While Zsofi is doing her morning stretches I continue my google search for Theo Boven. We will have a meeting with him this afternoon.
Ecosystem
The rest of the morning we spend on looking at the wall. Trying to get a grasp of what we are doing here. Somehow, after yesterdays’ talk with Nouri, I feel a bit confused. He told me most inhabitants of Mammoth and the other flats have left a long time ago. So who are we doing this for, I wonder. Who cares about the demolition? We try to recollect how all the different parties are involved and what their agenda is. Why is it interesting for them that we are here?
We decide to call Jackie to ask her about her vision on this, and we want to know more about our famous guest of the afternoon, the guy who had been working for our queen for a decade, who is in the board of Prins Bernard Cultuur fonds, who will be selected as candidate for the 1st chambre elections for CDA, and many other titles. She gives us a lot of background information about Theo and she describes our project as being part of a complex ecosystem, celebrating change. How beautiful is that!?
Broodbank
The morning has been so busy somehow. All this thinking and talking! We decide to go to the Broodbank downstairs to see what they are offering. Three women are behind the counter. Women of Pottenberg. I feel such an outsider, and I'm sure they see me as one. I feel the urge to tell them my mother is from Limburg, that their accent reminds me of being 8 or 9 and drinking my first coffee with loads of sugar and milk that my grandmother gave to me. I’m less of an outsider than they think. But, really? What do I think? Of course I am an outsider. One of the ladies is Marion Voorst. She has been living in Pottenberg for 60 years! She got baptised and did her communion in the church, and got married there too. She lives in the block behind Mammoth. Her two sons live one street away. She will never leave Pottenberg, no matter what happens.
Papa
We didn’t have lunch, we are starving and Theo will be here soon. As we take Zsofi’s bike outside so she can bike to the shop quickly, we run into my father. He comes to bring a bag full of apples from his garden and some bottles of homemade apple juice. So sweet! As he gives me a hug he says he is so proud. Proud of what, I think. Us meeting a local politician, or us being in this sloop-apartment being part of an ecosystem to celebrate change? He is getting more sentimental with aging. When I give him a hug he feels so ‘breekbaar’. Like he is slowly disappearing. Oww, papa. It can be sometimes so difficult for us to find each other, and we live our own lives in our own cities. Wouldn’t it be nice to live close to each other, so we could have easygoing, little encounters, like last night?
Theo
We quickly warm up the pumpkinsoup Zsofi has bought and toast some of the Broodbanks bread. I burn it and the whole kitchen is full of smoke. Ten minutes left. We open all the windows and eat our lunch on the balcony. Five minutes. Oh my god, so silly to be nervous, he is just a guy. Shall we start with a little meditation? Can he handle this? isn’t it our task to take people out of their daily framework?
And there he is. Just a guy. A friendly man with a moustache, dressed casually. We shake hands and welcome him in. After some first words we ask him if he minds sitting silent with us for a minute, just to arrive at this shared space. He agrees so we sit in silence. Zsofi closes her eyes, but I keep mine open to see how our guest is handling the silence. He is holding his hands on his teacup and looking at the table. Isn't it crazy how such a simple thing as silence can feel so awkward? Or revolutionary even?
We talk for an hour. Theo loves talking. He tells us all about the history of Maastricht, its growing industries after WW2 and the need for housing for the workers. About Pottenberg, being part of the Parochie-area-cluster all built in the 60’s as an architectural and sociological masterplan. About the importance of the specific identities of the four areas (Oud Caberg, Malpertuis, Pottenberg, Belfort), of which Pottenberg is known as the poorest.
We have recorded the talk and will write it out. We tell him about our Big Collapse plan, and he helps by suggesting some people we should invite (f.e. the old priest!) but he doesn’t seem overly interested in our stories. We make a nice selfie at the end.
At night we have the best food in a Korean restaurant. The taste of kimchi invokes telling each other exciting memories about Korea, Japan etc. After all these exotic tales we bike back to Pottenberg in heavy autumn rain. We are soaking wet when we enter our apartment, and pretty tired of the day.
DAY 190 (Zsofi and Jetske)
written by Zsofi
I wake up quite early with the threatening sky outside. I take a video of the people waiting for the bus at dawn. The birds are flying in circles as usual. I sleep back. I go down to the living room, Jetske is writing, the yellow curtains are bringing a bright mood to the room.
I do exercises, I have breakfast. We notice some leftover pieces of clothes in our rooms. We both put them on, me a huge thick pair of socks and a hoodie jumper. I like them. I wonder if it belongs to Olivia or to the people who sometimes stay here. We have to pretend that we live here so leave stuff around. Jetske asks me if I have a charger for the computer because she left hers at home. I also realise that I left mine too. We talk and prepare for the meeting with Theo Bovens. We have a call with Jackie to ask her what is good to ask from Theo. Jackie is quite enthusiastic about this meeting. As we are talking we get back to the same old question: Why are we here? What is our role in this project? What would the different participants expect from our presence here? Jackie might be a bit surprised that we talk about it again. She says that this project is aiming for some kind of a celebration of the change, which is waiting for this neighborhood. Moha is supposed to build an ecosystem that would take part in giving a form to this celebration. Ecosystem for me means, presence, catalysator, activism, knowing people from face to face, harm reduction, balancing between different status people, making bridges between the old and the new, mapping, discovering, understanding, being an anthropologist, a social scientist, an urbanist, an architect, an observer, a participant, being part of it all, be the roots, be the branches, be the flowers. An ecosystem that shakes up the old habits, that makes people reflect, and come out of their caves, making new connections, being activated. Put a moment on the timeline, which remains special. Something that everyone could remember. Something that could be celebrated every year.
We eat Jumbo ready-made soup for lunch and get ready for the meeting. We are funnily nervous. Jetske’s father could not believe first that Theo Bovens would visit us. He is a big hit in the Netherlands. We decide that we will do a 1-2 minutes long meditation with Theo when he arrives. It is our arrival ritual that we like to do because we are coming and going so often. This idea makes us even more nervous. Theo arrives, we let him in, we offer him tea and take a seat around the table. Jetske brings us the idea of the ritual and we just start it. I close my eyes and try to feel this situation that we are at. Three of us sitting together in Pottenberg in an antikraak flat, with a wall behind Theo saying “dancing topless guys” and so on. This whole thing is absurd, but we are all fine with it. I open my eyes. We speak about how they met with Jackie and from there we talk about the history of Pottenberg and possible connection we could make here.
During our conversation with Theo Bovens I hear a small noise from the corner of the room, or kitchen, or maybe from the other apartment, I can’t decide. I have this small thought that what if it is a mouse, who makes this noise. I did not dwell with this idea, but later during the afternoon and in the evening I hear more clatter. Something even falls on the floor so we run to the kitchen to see. It is a piece of bread that was placed on the top of a pyramid of other free gift breads that we collected on the ground floor. They are in a silky plastic bag, so it is even a miracle that it could stay on the top. But I cannot, not think about the mouse. All of these “proves” are just strengthening this totally untamable concept.
There is one thing that sticks with me from Theo’s talk, that is a key element to understand. He says it is important to have all important functions in every neighbourhood: a church, commercial centre, a place for youth and school. If you don’t have a school for example then people will start to choose. If they choose, it means they will gravitate towards something that is the most familiar to them. This can just strengthen segregation in a city. I think it is an important idea to keep in mind that to be local, as a student for example, can also shape your local identity in the long term.
DAY 191 (Zsofi and Jetske)
written by Zsofi
I start the day with a small reading and meditation in my room. I go downstairs where Jetske is already writing on my computer, which still has a battery. I do some stretching exercises on the carpet, and we have breakfast by the living room table. It is raining outside.
At 10 am we have a meeting with Dave from Woonpunt. He rings straight on the door, I guess he has keys for this building. We offer him apple cake and coffee and sit down. The coffee tastes weird, already the preparation went a bit off, probably some coffee went under the filter and made the water go slower down. It tastes like perfume to me. Dave is fine with it. I speak English to him. He looks at the notes we made on the wall and finds his own name. He asks if we already know Lieke from Ad Hoc. He says we know a lot of people. He mentioned with a little laughter the ‘police woman’. I tell him the story from where we have heard of her. I tell him that Geerte told us that once in every month there is a gathering in De Romein, where she, one person from the housing agencies and the police woman comes to take the complaints from the neighbours. Dave confirms. He says he goes to these meetings. He says that it happened this last Wednesday, too. “Is there anyone coming?” I am asking, “Yes, there is someone all the time.” He says. “What are they complaining about?” “There are always conflicts in one of the streets. It is called Micastraat. I am asking if it is where the van burnt out in August. He says a bit closer. I ask about the van. He says that it was set on fire with a purpose by someone, but they don’t know whom. The owner of the van was ready to go for a holiday the next day. They packed it all full of stuff, also bikes, everything. In the night someone burned it down.
Joyce is the name of the policewoman, and Jusef of the worker of Servatius, the other housing company. Dave says Jusuf would be happy to get in contact with us. I ask him if he knows more names from the wall. He does, except for Theo Bovens. He says it is easier for him to speak Dutch, so we switch to Dutch. Jetske keeps on talking to him. I go silent. I feel ashamed that I don’t speak Dutch. I try to look at them speaking but it does not make sense. My brain tries to make an unnecessary effort. I catch some words, but I give up comforting them with my attention. I go to fix a new coffee. I make another one which is too light. I start to make a third one when Jetske asks me to tell about the idea of a study group or gathering space in the flat.
I ask Dave to stand up and see the map on the wall we made. I explain a bit about the idea of the flat as the core, the tiniest unit of our project. It extends to the Mammoth flat, then to Terracotta square, then to Pottenberg. I tell about the possible artist residency and the capacity of hosting people in this flat. We talk about this shortly. He does not know other examples in the neighbourhood for these kinds of activities. He says we could ask Carmel, Geerte, and Kim. I ask him if we would like to use another space, like downstairs next to the banks, would it be him to ask this from. It is his company but another department he says. He does not know now by heart if there is any free space for renting. They switch to Dutch. I stay by the table. There is an idea coming up from the talk, where he could connect the previous inhabitants of the Mammoth flat to make an interview with them. He offers that we could call them when we will come next time. He could come to the flat and we could do the calls. He says there are 15 people who refuse to leave the building.
At 11 he says goodbye. He feels friendly, kind and open minded. We forget to take a picture with him. In 1-2 minutes we run out of the flat with the hope to catch him. We don’t see him. We walk down the stairs, and do a small tour around the house. We go towards the snack bar, it is open. I see the same woman in the kitchen who cooked for us last time when we were here with Olivia. We check that the place is open between 10 and 14. We don’t feel the need to eat or drink anything. We go home. We look out the window and start to do some movements. We are jumping, twisting our bodies, bending, stretching, running in one place. We shake out tension or whatever is there to shake out. We are shouting and laughing. Sometimes just talking. We warm up and stop.
Jetske offers me to do a ‘Klei-Dialogen’ session with her. We sit by the table where other times we work or eat. It is totally empty now. She places the clay and some small tools. Look around and make sure there are no monsters around. It is not an alien thing to me, I am used to doing meditation exercises. Only then close your eyes. I am just out of habit for some time and I feel worn out generally. So of course I am far in my head and perception somehow, maybe I would say I am not so patient with myself. But it takes me. Take a few deep breaths. I have only a small resistance in me. I notice the nervousness, the small anxieties. I feel the muscle pain I have in my back. Breath out and let yourself loosen up. I try to be soft like melting butter, and it feels like I haven't felt it for a long time. Feel how you connect to the ground, the building which goes down into the soil. See the clay, the stones that hold us. See the fire that is inside the planet. Ground yourself there. I sometimes have detours in my ocean memories. I feel sadness, nostalgia and longing.
I go back to my breathing. Feel how organically it is happening. My mind is soft. My hands are shaking when I tear the first piece of cold clay. I don’t have the energy to shape it. I help one hand with the other. I push it in, I put it from one hand to the other. The hand feels the material. I roll the clay on my hands, giving a small massage to my palms and fingers. I shape it slowly into a ball. Push the ball on the table into a flat circle. Jetske brings water. Shape a long snake and add it on the circle. Use this stick to make it even.
We keep on looking at our hands, I sometimes look at Jetske’s. She gives gentle guidance and she asks me to ask her how she feels. “Jetske, how do you feel?” She sets 5 minutes and she closes her eyes. She focuses on the moment and how her body feels. In 5 minutes we swap. I close my eyes. I talk about my body, the floor and the table that are grounding me at the moment. To tell the truth in front of someone, about all of our thoughts, is difficult even if you feel safe and secure. It is a challenge of courage. We keep on shaping our clay pieces. Mine is becoming a plate. I try to not have expectations, but I judge my piece a little bit. I aimed for a cup and I ended up with a flat plate. I can’t help seeing it as a metaphor for my attitude generally. I let it go fast, and maybe I can think of this when I am in a moment of decision making. Do I want to make a cup? Then follow these steps. Don’t get satisfied if it is not going in that direction. Stick to what you want to make. But now I am happy with the plate. I have never made pottery before. I don’t know how the clay works. We eat lunch after, soup and salad with chickpeas. Jetske leaves in the afternoon, and I stay with my half charged computer. I decide that I will bring it to the shop to charge it the next day. It is raining outside.
DAY 192 (Zsofi)
I wake to consciousness from sleeping and I know that it is sunny outside. The light came through warm and changed the whole atmosphere. As I think it is my last day and I have not run the other day I know I have to go out. I take on sweatpants, a hoodie jumper, the yellow running shoes, I get ready, and I go. I play Hermanos Gutierrez from my phone and I hope my knee won’t hurt this time. I run along the El Habib, the contrast of light and shadow is hard since it is still morning, I take pictures of the huge trees that I appreciate more and more.
I cross along the last block and I am heading towards the football fields. I take pictures, even videos of the freshly green fields where I see others running, biking, or walking with their dogs. I am confident with the route - I am planning to cross the golf field as I usually do. There is another runner ahead of me, I almost decide to follow her. I have to keep up the pace if I am willing to do so. I already notice that the path is slightly going uphill, which I can’t recall from my previous runs. Few seconds later, a left curve comes with strong descending. I took the other path. I don’t mind, I can recognize where I detoured myself and also where I am heading to. I follow the girl. We cross the fields and reach the big road closer to the river. I stop for a few seconds to take a picture of the fields, and I lose her. She must have chosen the road down by the river. I don’t want to go there. I know it is in the shadows. I turn left on this road with tall trees in their full autumn colours. It is really beautiful and I quickly accept that I lost the possibility of a random person’s choice of showing me the way today. I already feel pain in my right knee as I usually do so I stop for a small stretch.
The route is amazing, it is fresh and cold with the sun shining from the front. I cross paths with a few people, dogs. I see a mushroom. I have to step aside from two giant tractors with small looking guys driving them. They are immense. The wheels are taller than me. They carry hay. A woman stands by this place. She puts smaller stones on top of each other on the top of the big sacred stone. There is a board saying what it is. I don’t stop, I assume I would find it on the map later. I stop again and again to stretch, the pain keeps on coming back. I go back the same route as I took on the way there. I pass by the football fields, it is full of kids and young people playing. “We should go to a game.” I remember the last day Jetske was telling this while we talked to Theo who said there is a strong football culture coming from Pottenberg. One thing that gives a strong sense of identity, he says. I only stop close to El Habib, where I cross a car with the engine on. Two guys sitting inside. They look at me and I wonder if they are from those streets who have conflicts all the time, which Dave mentioned the other day. I know I should check those streets but now I am not sure which ones are those. I walk home, I take a shower so I don't get cold. I go to the window and I see a silver balloon in the far distance flying all the way up. I feel this is part of the myth of my journey so I take a video, not being completely sure if it will be visible. It is.
I stretch a bit, I have breakfast, I play music from NTS, and I leave to the centre to charge my computer in the Mac Shop. I pass by De Romein to see if there is anything going on. The Trajekt car is leaving from the front but nothing else. I turn to the right where the other day the sheeps were eating the grass. Of course, by that time I knew that they would disappear and I would be not sure if they actually ever been there. The field is empty, only the grass’s colour can tell that something is different in that small piece of land. It is a bit pale and of course shorter. The ghost of the sheeps is around and I wonder if the shepard has a weekend maybe? The ride is nice, but I get a bit stuck in the centre where the shopping streets are extremely crowded. I experienced weekends and afternoons like this more times. It feels like the whole city is there and they have nothing to do. They do shopping. The funfair is not there this time. I reach the Mac store and I ask if I can charge my computer. The mission seems to be accessible, the guy takes my laptop, half secretly and tells me to “stick around”. I sit in the cafe on the other side of the road, I read and write and have coffee. I pick up my computer, however they are a bit suspicious if the laptop is actually mine. I leave and bike all the way to the shopping mall in the Pottenberg neighbourhood. When I get off I notice that I don’t find the bike key. I check in my coat, but it is just not there. I decide I will quickly buy something for lunch. I do and I come home, carry the bike all the way to the flat. I have lunch and I leave to find the key. The ride is a bit more pleasant because the other bike has its seat a bit higher. My sense of discomfort sometimes is completely wrong. I can stay in this discomfort for quite a long time. Is it laziness? Is it something I believe that I deserve? I can't find the keys. I look around the area I parked by the store earlier, but it is nowhere. I am conscious that I must look weird to people around, staring to the ground and walking up and down. I notice strange things in between the cobblestones, but not the key. I am semi-pissed. I bike home.
DAY 193 (Zsofi)
I decide to stay one more night so I can take it a bit easy with everything. I wish to have time to write and just be in silence a bit to be more focused. I go to bed before midnight and I lock my door from the inside. I wake up for something in the middle of the night, and I find the door open. I take out my earplugs and I try to understand what is happening. I hear nothing from the flat but I am a bit scared because I don’t understand how this could happen. I clearly remember the moment of closing the door with the tiny but a bit loose lock. I know that the previous day when I did not use the lock the door could get open - probably because of the slight wind that goes through the house when I leave my window open. I chill myself with this theory that it must have been the combination of wind, and the bad lock. It is quite a poor theory, but not impossible. I make a small test and I see that it is not easily possible but it is. It is surprising that I would not wake up to the noise of it earlier. I also cannot identify what woke me up actually. I remember several childhood nights when I could not sleep from anxiety. I imagined that there was a fire in our house and my parents died. I also thought of someone breaking into our house wanting to kill my parents. I was listening so carefully and my heart was beating in my head from the extreme fear. There was always a noise which supported my suspicion. Then the heart beating went even more up, it was so loud that I could not even hear anything from it. It always took me a long time to calm myself down somehow. This time I don’t get so anxious but it takes some breathing and work to relax. I play a podcast, like whenever I can’t sleep. I know when the light will come it will be all easy. In my dreams people come into the house, they are connected to Jackie or the students who sometimes use the flat. They do not know that I am still here so they come to just move in. We have an awkward realisation that I am still sleeping. Well that was exactly my fear before going to sleep.
I do exercises, I have breakfast, and I continue writing my diary these days. In the afternoon I look out from the window and I see there are many cars parking around the church. It starts to rain. I collected the garbage and went down. I picked up the bike and I dumped the general trash by the bus stop. The rest I bring to the selective. I am riding next to the church and I see a dozen guys gathering in front talking and maybe smoking. I have a tiny desire to go inside but I do not want to crash into this ritual and safety zone of theirs. I decide to bike around a bit more. I am searching for the Micastraat, what Dave was talking about. It is hard to say why this part is the conflictual one. I look around and I see nothing specific. I suddenly remember the Moha walks in Bijlmer, and I think it would be great to go around and discover the scenography elements of the hood, building relationships with all the streets, spot out their specialties, skills, the ways to connect, to respond, to highlight, to bring people out one day to the street. It feels like this all connects to the Big Collapse.
I bike further I mentally register some objects, corners, trees, small fields. Trees are definitely something to celebrate here, some of them are really huge, probably as old as Pottenberg, or even older? Who could tell how old the trees are? We talked about this with Jetkse too, one of the days, so now I have extra attention for them. I cross streets that I did not before, I am riding slowly. Not like the other day when I was looking at every square metre in front of me on the floor, to find the bike keys. This time I record the outside world. I identify the location where the burnt van used to stand in the summer. It is not there anymore, only the gigantic terrain patterned pick-ups van. I pass by the corners with the stones, I go to the small back forest. I enjoy the freshness of the air and the woods, I note the big tree and the bench on my imaginary map, and I wonder if here a group of young people could have one of the stations on this future event. They would be the hosts of this bench and invite the ones coming by for a tarot reading, for a tea for a cigarette.
I have to check De Romein and the parking lot is full of cars, I look inside and I already am looking for the dancers. It is Sunday. A young man arrives in a suit. From this distance it looks warm and beautiful. They move kind of slowly. I cross the road and see the streets where Halit, the boy is supposed to live. He is not out, but I see a man on a scooter and five kids who try to hold him back from going. He smiles at me. It looks playful. I look to the left and I know that the sheeps won’t be there. I go up on a tiny hill and it feels like the bourgeois corner of Pottenberg. The houses are white and they all have their own gardens. I end up coming out from a street not far from the Armenian church where I can see the gathering guys from another angle. I take a picture and I also notice a fox towel or huge picture hanging on the Mammoth flat end wall. I take a picture too, it looks great.
I turn towards the entrance of our house, and I am ready to bring up the bike to the flat. A woman comes out and asks me if I am going inside. She explains that she would like to bring up her dogs, and they will be loud barking, but not biting. I tell her to do so and don’t worry. There are three of them and they bark. She holds them as much as she can, and runs up to the flat quickly. She comes back and says sorry. I say that they are beautiful. She tells me that they are fine with horses too, where she goes often for practising jumping. It is not very high, like 90 cm or 110. I ask if she lives here, she says no, she comes to her parents. I ask if it is Ria and Ru, she says yes and that Ru passed away yesterday. She explains that it was already very difficult for him because no treatment really worked and there was nothing more to do then letting him go. I say I am sorry and Ria was already coming to ask her to come upstairs. I go up with the bike on my shoulders. I clean, I pack and I leave for the train.
DAY 238 (Zsofi, Alice and Olivia)
written by Zsofi
Since we have a lot of stuff to carry, I go to Alice’s house to take an Uber to go together to the train station. It is her first trip since she gave birth. She was in pregnancy leave these last months. In the cab I ask Alice why we are going to Zuid station, since I always take a train from central. We check and indeed we realise we need to actually go to central station. We ask the driver if it is possible. It is not, so we get out by Zuid station and take a metro to central. We take the slower metro, we only realise on the way. We think we might still catch the train at 9.35. We arrive at central just in the moment when the train leaves so we gather with Olivia and take the train at 10.05, half an hour later. When we arrive, we take bus number 7 and get surprised by the route it takes. It feels a bit unknown. We arrive at our stop and see the light in our house is on. We are thinking who can be in the flat. We go to the other side of the building where the entrance is and the kitchen window is also open, the suspicion gets bigger. We go up, cautiously look around and see that there is no-one. We are happy to arrive.
I start to immediately notice that the floor is quite dirty. I go into the kitchen, and I see a huge pile of drying plates and cups. There is a half-bottle of wine, the cutting board curled up from water, and generally a mess. I go upstairs. The rooms look messy. The bed duvets are all over the place, the floors are dirty, the objects are just messy. There is the packaging of tampons laying around, towels hanging. In the bathroom there are towels on the floor being flat from probably stepping on them, they are still wet. This apartment has a fragile balance, if it is not maintained and cared for, it becomes quickly unlivable.
These gestures somehow make me imagine someone who felt kind of at home here, just fulfilling her necessities but not thinking of anyone else coming after her. I have to picture this person as someone careless, a bit insensitive for these types of things. I am a little bit jealous of them, that they care maybe only about meaningful things, like …writing, making art, or love. I feel jealous about people who can forget the outside world and they can just fill their own universe. I don’t know why I am jealous of them, it sounds like someone selfish, egocentric, careless. Why is someone like this attractive to me? I somehow imagine that people who do really meaningful things can afford to lose track with reality. They are in their necessary flow so much that they are almost allowed to not care about normal everyday things like leaving things in order for the others. Because making orders, cleaning, organising a house etc. sometimes feels like a side activity. Something that is not meaningful but necessary. You can do it of course with patience and care for all these activities, but they should not fill all your days. These activities take time from you to do things like creating, being with people, get lost in time and space, forget about the context of living and be a child again.
In my family kids had the chance to be kids. I think my parents isolated us from adult stuff, like earning money, cleaning, making orders, and so on. At the same time this is something that I have seen them doing. They were working, maintaining the house, life, but not really having so much fun. My father liked to end the parties when he felt like it, always a little bit too early compared to everyone else’s feelings. He started to clean and organise things, and he never got lost in having fun or enjoying social gatherings. He said: “There is another day tomorrow.” I think probably he was always overwhelmed, and this is how he could set his boundaries so as not to exhaust himself even more. It is also a way to keep a distance from too much engagement. It is a way to not let it go, to hold it together, to give in for maybe anxiety, to stay alive. I somehow did not like this, because it felt like interrupting something good. I feel sometimes there is still this voice in my head, who interrupts in moments of fun. It is hard for me to fully let go. I have to remind myself that my experiences, especially the good ones, are almost the only things I have, and I would like to fully be present in them, to take their full potential, to be generous with relationships, connections, and communal moments. Aren’t they the most important things? Maybe for my father they are not. Maybe for him social life is tiring, disappointing, too dangerous, too intense, and not reliable. Maybe for him the routine of work, the security and structure it provides is the most important thing to survive in this world. Is this an escape from something? Does he lose something with this? I am not sure. The person who did not even flush and clean the toilet after shitting makes me think of responsibility in life, the capability of letting it go, to be able to have loud sex, to feel comfortable waking up someone, to go inside a lecture room after starting and so on.
We clean the house, and put on the heating. Two upstairs and three downstairs. It feels just so humid and cold. Even outside it is more mild than in the flat. Jackie comes to see us. We have a talk with her and walk together to the Opera Zuid’s performance in the neighbour’s neighbourhood. There is a full house, and we reach at the last minute. We meet Tamara, the director of the piece, and we agree that we would meet in January. We walk back to the house with Jackie, she gives us 3 bottles of drinks from Wintersnight.
We go to the shop with Olivia, Alice and Mael stay home in the meantime. The evening is approaching and we are ready to make dinner. I start to prepare it in the kitchen. I make salad and ravioli filled with cheese. I am waiting for the water to boil when all the lights go off. The electricity cuts off, and so we look around where the switches are. We find them, but they seem to be okay. I decide to ask some neighbours. I ring the 78D (?), and a young boy in a bathrobe opens. The girl in the background closes the inner door. I tell him what happened, he says he has no idea since it never happened to him. I go to the next door where I see lights as not every flat that they live in. A middle aged woman opens just a tiny bit and she says I have to go downstairs, where the electricity boxes are. I go back and share this info with the girls. Alice has a memory that we would need a special key for that door, and that we don’t have it. I still try to discover the basement with our simple key. I found the corridor, with some doors. One says 78B 78D 80B 80D. This must be the door. The key goes in but it is very hard, it does not turn. I go up again, and bump into a girl who arrives home. I ask her if she knows about this electricity problem. She says she does not but her brother does. She calls him. He says that we have to call Woonpunt 24h line and they will fix it. She gives me the number, and I go upstairs. With the girls we call Laura first who tries to figure out something. She calls Dani, who is a handyman. She calls Ton who might have this key. She calls Ad Hoc. She calls Woonpount. Dani will come and see what he can do.
(48 photo of us sitting in the dark?
So we wait. Sitting in the cold dark room. Luckily Mael is sleeping already in his warm pyjamas. Dani arrives and we go to the corridor. We check the door I found before. We decide to ask someone from the same door owner. I go to 80B, who lives under us, she must have a key. I ring, an elderly lady opens. She shows me her keys, and says we must have ours. But the door is under her house and not where we are looking for it. Dani and I go there, we find the door. We don’t have the keys. He does not hesitate for a second to use his tools to try to open it. It is not that easy. In the meantime the older lady surprises us at the door. She scares the shit out of Dani, as he would have been interrupted in his theft activity. They speak in their Maastricht dialect. She leaves. I am watching him trying to open the door. He is searching for the right tool. He asks me to go up to bring our tool box. I know already he wants me to not see how he will open this door. I go up, and bring the box. When I arrive downstairs, the door is of course open. Dani is already changing the fuse that was broken. I am thinking - fuck I knew he will do the magic when I am not looking - and indeed. I am telling him that it is great he managed, but how did he do it? He just says with a tool he had to push it a bit..haha..the wood of the door is not super damaged, but some traces are visible where the paint got off.
We go up and celebrate the light for a few minutes. We have still 3 heaters plugged and the happiness does not last for long. The electricity goes off again so Dani goes down to do another round. He says that he noticed that the fuse was extremely overheated which means that one circuit had too much load on it. He promises he will fix the circuits in two days until then we should not plug more than one heater on each floor. After going through some dramatic moments, dropping the emergency idea of considering sleeping in a hotel tonight, we are already okay with one heater on each floor. It is intense to be in this apartment during winter. We have to think of all people who live in shitty conditions like this all year long. How we get used to comfort.
We open beers, smoke a cigarette and talk further about the planning. We stick to the idea of working towards the Big Collapse and taking the next upcoming event as a team-building for it. The event could be in June, and until then we could gather people from the neighbourhood who would like to participate in this project. We would like to put ads on the entrances of each house to invite them to participate. We would like to ring the doors, as we did now, asking about electricity. We would also like to make a film. We would like to organise a neighbourhood walk, where we could pass by each house and have a host by each of them. Everyone would have a different offering. I ring the bell, do you know how the electricity works? No. What do you know then? Could you share a special skill with us? I have to think of this parade from the father of Nicolas Jaar written in the Clair Bishop book. He organised a yearly parade in a certain town that became something important for the neighbourhood. I think we could build a new Pottenberg mythology that would contain old and new elements, that would give space for everyone, that would make bridges between many, that would be something fun and special just for the inhabitants of Pottenberg. How to activate people? How to offer something which is not demanding but fun. Something that is meaningful, something that is building down walls, reducing harm, opening doors, giving space for looking at each other.
Mael wakes up around 22.30. He is wet, his diaper leaked. Alice has to change him in the dark and cold. For a moment she wonders if it was a good idea to bring him here. The guilt of being the mother always finds its way through. Olivia comes to sleep with Mael and Alice. Like penguins. To keep each other warm. I sleep with three blankets, a hot water bottle with my clothes on. It is not that cold after all. I take off my pants in the middle of the night.
DAY 239 (Zsofi, Alice and Olivia)
written by Alice
We rent a car from a neighbour to go to Ikea. When we moved to the flat we had one big shopping trip to make the house livable but since then we have not improved the place much. It is time to go for a second round. In Ikea it's warm, there is some soft music to lure us into buying stuff. We go for it. Lamps, blankets, curtains. All things we actually desperately need. At night the living room gets very dark. Some rooms don't have curtains yet. There are never enough blankets in a place with no good heating. Mael is sleeping on Olivia in the carrier. People smile at us when they see his little face.
We go back home satisfied. Zsofi has to leave already to get her flight. We start to make plans for next year. We are entering the second step of this project. It somehow takes time to look at the outside world when the living conditions are so fragile. The survival reaction is to fix your home first in order to survive winter. With Olivia we clean again and set up what we can. Some fake plants and flowers in the living room. Extra light. The place starts to feel inviting again and the evening looks more promising than yesterday.
We finally have the mindset to dive into our planning. Based on the visit of the 7 of us, we have a good understanding of the neighbourhood. All of us navigated through it in their own way. We mapped it. We met people. Understood who was active where. The question now is who are we here? We have ideas starting to rise from these last 6 months. Celebrating the big collapse of this building. Making an event. Inviting the neighbours to make this event together with us. We want to make a call. Create a working group. Our usual MOHA techniques, being present and letting things happen, need to be challenged because we do not live here and our presence is too erratic. We need another approach. Something more direct. How do we use “the power of the 7” to shake things up?
DAY 262 (Lisanne)
written by Lisanne
I get a phone call from Alice. It will be really cold and wet the upcoming days (-5 in the night). There is no heating in our Pottenberg apartment, so Alice has a little idea: instead of sleeping there, she will book a room in the resort next to the golf club. We will spy on the rich neighbour. Honestly, I am relieved: I was a bit anxious about staying in the apartment during these dark gloomy January days. The last two weeks I haven’t been feeling that well (stress, tired, sad, etc) - I was a bit afraid that the apartment would make it worse.
DAY 263 (Lisanne and Alice)
written by Lisanne
Een lange, lange treinrit. Ik heb twee chocolade-broodjes gekocht op het station. Ik koop die eigenlijk nooit, behalve als ik op vakantie ben of met Alice - in de afgelopen twee jaar hebben we zo onze kleine rituelen opgebouwd. Het is lang geleden dat we elkaar gezien hebben, en het is de eerste keer dat ik Maël ontmoet. Hij ligt op een trein stoel, vrolijk om zich heen te kijken. De hele treinrit is donker en extreem grauw, maar als we dichterbij Maastricht komen, gaat de zon een beetje schijnen. Een goed teken.
Als we in het appartement aankomen, ziet het er een stuk gezelliger uit dan in mijn herinnering. Nepbloemen in de vensterbank, gordijnen, een kaart op muur, die context geeft aan de omgeving. Ik haal lunch (wederom allemaal eten dat ik met Alice associeer, zoals smeerbare brie), we eten, en dan is het tijd voor een wandeling. Om de buurt te ontdekken, maar vooral om Maël te laten slapen - het meeste thuis is hij tegen Alice’ borst aangedrukt.
Het regent zachtjes en we wandelen richting de golfbaan, om het gebied te verkennen waar we vanavond gaan slapen. Het is een compleet bizarre overgang van omgeving - eerst de flats, de grote honden, de gebouwen waarvan we weten dat ze gesloopt worden, dan ineens gigantische huizen met jacuzzi’s en trampolines.
We wandelen het vakantiepark op, en zoals anderen eerder al beschreven: het voelt als een ‘fake village’. Bijna alle huizen staan leeg - het heeft iets apocalyptisch en verdrietigs. We horen later ook van Geerte dat de meeste mensen in Pottenberg het hele park maar niks vinden: de verschillen zijn te groot, er waren banen beloofd, maar die zijn er niet gekomen. Het is bizar dat mensen in deze kou in slecht geïsoleerde huizen zitten, soms eerder naar bed gaan om de kou te vermijden, en dat er verderop honderden leeg staan.
Als we teruglopen naar Pottenberg fantaseren we over alle blikjes die hoog in de bomen hangen, hoe zijn ze daar gekomen? Zijn het ontmoetingsplekken? Zit er vogelvoer in? Wie is hier ooit meer begonnen?
We worden aangesproken door een man die een sigaretje staat te roken. Hij spreekt Engels met een Limburgs accent en vraagt of het niet zwaar is voor Alice - zo met Maël op haar buik. Het is een hele lieve man, die vraagt wat we hier doen. Als we zeggen dat we kunstenaars zijn, zegt hij dat we vast heel slim, heel ‘koppie-koppie’ zijn.
Bij de flat worden we aangesproken door Humprey van het broodteam. Iedereen is aardig vandaag. Hij vraagt waar we al die tijd zijn geweest, en zegt dat we zeker eens langs moeten komen om brood te halen en te kletsen. Ook hij wil alles over Maël weten en begint ineens in het Frans te praten.
We gaan naar Geerte, die als buurtbegeleider werkt. Wij hebben haar allebei nog nooit ontmoet. Ze ontvangt ons in de Buurtbrök, met thee en ontzettend veel energie. We komen erachter dat we eigenlijk dezelfde missie hebben: ze wil graag iets doen omtrent The Collapse. Ze wil iets doen zodat we mensen afscheid kunnen nemen, en kunnen kijken naar de toekomst. Het lijkt haar fijn om hiervoor samen te werken. Als je hier hier aan de mensen vraagt, willen ze gewoon feest, bier en een barbeque. Maar Geerte wil iets meer diepte, misschien iets meer poëzie.
Na de afspraak met Geerte gaan we naar ons resort appartement. Het is er warm, het is er groot, het is comfortabel, het is gigantisch privilege. Het is voor nu oké, omdat het een uitzondering is. Maar dit is niet het soort kunstenaars dat we uiteindelijk willen zijn: vanuit onze ivoren, comfortabele toren even kijken op moeilijke plekken, en dan weer weggaan.
We bestellen eten, hangen wat voor de tv, Alice legt Maël op bed, en ik heb moeite alle onrust uit mijn lijf te krijgen. Sinds twee weken weet ik dat we eind maart ons huis uit moeten, en we snel iets moeten vinden in Amsterdam. Deze stress, deze zoektocht, vreet zoveel meer energie dan ik zou willen. Binnen de context van dit project is het wel interessant, meer dan in tijden voel ik hoe belangrijk een thuis is. Als ik ga slapen, heb ik voor het eerst in tijden geen nachtmerrie over huizen/de woningmarkt/bezichtigingen, maar droom ik over mijn eerste vriendje.
DAY 264 - (Lisanne and Alice)
written by Alice
We wake up in the warmth of our Dormio village apartment. Like always with these types of places that want to be fancy you slowly discover little dysfunctionalities as you go. Each time you flush the toilet it's like niagara falls in quantity and with sound. The door of the shower cant be open and closed without creating an echoing earthquake. The rooms can't be dark. There is not a little capsule of coffee or a little tea left in the apartment. We can buy everything at their mini supermarket. It is missing a soul. Fanciness doesn’t always mean homy. Fanciness is first of all services you pay for. At least our little Pottenberg apartment is embracing its modesty, doesn’t pretend to be something it is not and still tries to care more in its own way. If there was heating and no Mael I would have stayed over there with pleasure.
We get our breakfast quickly and start our program of the day. First mission is printing. We need to print 500 invitations double sided which we want to drop in the neighbourhood today. We get entangled into a little mess with our printing place. They got pissed because we wanted to move to another place who could print earlier. Neither Lisanne nor me are good with conflict so it's a good test for us. It is ok sometimes to mess it up. In french we would say: Il n'y a pas mort d'homme (no one dies from it). We go to the flat, pick our bikes and go pick up our prints. Good time for Mael's first nap of the day.
Mael is still pretty bad with napping and can therefore only sleep when he is in the baby carrier. It forces me to plan my day around that. I integrate him into the different MOHA actions based on that. The rest of the time he plays on his blankets with his toys. This usually works 30mn, sometimes 45mn until I have to get closer to him to partially entertain him while doing whatever I have to do for MOHA. That is why working with someone is much easier as they can take over when I am on baby duty.
On the way back to the house we bump into Eleonora, the Italian student we met here. It is a funny coincidence as she is on her way to meet us and help us out with preparing the letters. We go back all together. She is 22, energetic and passionate about the social urban dynamics of cities. This is what made her curious about our project. She is currently writing a thesis about Chicago and the way people live there.
While chit chatting we start our letter ritual. We fold the paper in three, put a golden sticker, draw a little heart on it to make it more personal. This 500 times. It is always the same: first it feels like it will never end, then it becomes a meditation in which each of us master the skill of efficiency and then finally it reaches an end. This time it is double challenging as Eleonora has to leave around 13.00, we have Mael to take in consideration, the flat is very cold and it is slowly getting to our bones. But Lisanne and I have quite some experience with letter preparation and we need more to kill us. We just get the job done like little robots. We have a short break with lunch. In the meantime Lisanne hears she most probably found an apartment in Amsterdam. She had to move and that stressed her out. It fits with our theme of housing here in Maastricht as well.
Mael starts to get annoyed and refuses to be left playing alone on the floor. At first, observing the action of folding papers was entertaining enough but eventually the tired baby in him got awakened. So I decide to start posting the letter so he can have a nap on me while Lisanne folds the rest. We are lucky because it is dry today. A sunny cold day.
Here I am carrying a baby and a big ikea bag full of letters, walking through the neighbourhood. In this letter, we are inviting people to take us for a walk. Weirdly enough while I have been doing this for quite some years I always feel extremely shy doing it. I go through many existential crises, wondering why people would even care, being scared to meet angry neighbours who would chase me away, running away as soon as I see someone getting out of the house I approach. I do have my baby weapon with me, and by experience it is a great softener on people. As I get closer to each postbox I see little pieces of people’s homes. Wondering who lives there. Little decoration details, a unicorn sticker, a rooster. A cat contemplating life on a scooter.
I go back to Lisanne when my ikea bag is empty. I delivered quite an amount of letters already. In the end of the day we are both exhausted by this labour. We drop our last letters together and go back to our fancy apartment. We are so cold that we enjoy the luxurious warmth. Mael is a sweetie but working with a baby is tiring. I carried him the whole afternoon. My back is sore. We try to write the blog with the last bit of energy we have left, just dreaming of when I'll be able to drink a beer. Mael is demanding some attention. I play with him. He pukes on my face. Maybe this is a sign to stop? In the evening he doesn’t want to sleep. He slept almost 3 hours while I was dropping the letter. I think he is full of energy. He sings and screams in his bed.
DAY 265 (Alice)
Lisanne leaves early in the morning. I am left alone with my little titi monster. He woke up many times in the night and I had to take him in bed with me to save my sleep.I check out. Clean out. Go to our real apartment. I walk through a beautiful empty frozen landscape. The golf field looks like a fairy place. Pottenberg in the horizon under the rising sun looks dreamy. No one is in the street.
I arrive at the same time as Danny who comes to fix the curtain. I put Mael down on one of the mattresses, sing him french songs while I fix one of the curtains. I place a little electric heater close to him as while I breathe I see steam getting out of my mouth.
I try to do all the actions needed before leaving the flat but it is difficult as I have to hold Mael the whole time: Taking the trash, vacuuming, writing a short note in our house notebook, putting things back in place. I fail to vacuum upstairs and fold the baby bed. I feel sorry to leave this to Zsofi and Jetske (who are the next coming) but there is no choice. The bus is coming, I don't want to miss my train. I am like a little donkey , carrying Mael, a big backpack, and my tiny suitcase. My shoulders are sore. I am hoping for Mael to sleep. He doesn’t.
In the train I keep working with Mael half sleeping on my breast and later on entertaining him with a famous toy glove which served the same purpose with Olivia’s kids. I feel a bit frustrated as I did not do everything I wanted to do. I did not finish the house rules. I did not drop the invitations at De Romein and buurtbrok. I did not check the postbox before leaving. There is always more we want to do than we can. This is something typical to Olivia and me. We are ambitious. Even when we travel with our kids. I check our email: one neighbour wants to have a walk with us. It makes me happy and hopeful. It always starts with one
DAY 279 (Jetske and Zsofi)
written by Jetske
A long day of travel and we bring along some fatigue from our Amsterdam lives, or I do anyway. We have lunch in a Mexican burrito place with a Ghanees student behind the counter and loud music playing in the centre of Maastricht. We go grocery shopping in the beautiful shopping mall, we make plans, we read two months of blog, we are accustomed to the apartment that was clean but watery-cold. We do have electricity though and nice warm ‘kruiks’/ water bottles to put in our lap on the sofa, and blankets to keep us warm.
(Photo of jetske and zsofi posing/79)
DAY 280 (Jetske and Zsofi)
written by Jetske
Making Goulash for 30 people, will that work!? Today we cook for the neighborhood. Zsofi has never made Goulash before, and it has so much meat in it! The sight of the big pieces of meat at Horeca + ( a place to buy food in big quantities for horeca businesses) in an industrial area at the other side of town brings us to an existential crisis (we bike there on our little bikes with our backpacks on). Who came up with this crazy idea of cooking Goulash for 30 people? Looking at all the big chunks of unhappy dead animals we can’t understand why we would cook something with meat. Aren’t we supposed to show those meat-eaters how great the alternative can be? But it is too late. We are far from home in a freezing and uninspiring food hall and our creativity has long left us. We have to go for the meatpile. "We will do a little ceremony for this pork, to make up for it" we promise each other.
(Photo horaca + Video trip horeca/80)
In the morning we have our first crisis after we meet Geertje in Buurtbruk. We decide to stay for lunch and talk to some older people who were seated close to us. One man in a neat jumper with a jewish ring on his finger and a little grey beard sitting opposite to us. The other man is from Indonesia, with characteristic front teeth and a soft and gentle face. The two start talking about Pottenberg, about Indonesia, about poverty, welfare, politics, the old days etcetera. They compete with each other in ‘knowing facts’, they both know better and it is important for them to be ‘right’. It never becomes a true dialogue or exchange. They are just telling their side of their stories and sticking to their own facts. It takes all my energy to sit there and try to guide the talk into a more open minded Pottenberg reflection and I absolutely do not succeed. Zsofi talks to this older French woman, I don’t know how this conversation works for her.
Geerte suggests visiting people who cannot leave their house and doing ceramics or other art stuff with them. When we get home I feel super frustrated. I feel like I am being pushed in the role of a social worker and I am missing my artistic free-space. I feel very discouraged to do these chitchats with people who just want to tell and repeat their own story. So what was our mission again? Why do we want ‘talks’ to people? How are we going to connect in a more genuine way? A more radical way? How will we connect to the heart, to the joy of the moment, or to the excitement of endless possibilities or even the possibility of magic??? That’s what I am in for. Not this endless repetition of suffering. How do we get here?
I think Moha surely has its strategies, and I have mine too. But I, or we, need to sharpen them and give them a conscious role in all our activities. It’s good this happens now because it makes me think of how to seduce people to act from this other ‘place’, this open state of being. Being in/with the body is very helpful for this. So, cutting vegetables together, braiding wool or each other's hair, knitting, singing, dancing, washing feet, doing ceramics, doing body exercises, making a ritual together etcetera.
Zsofi feels frustrated too. She feels that we might be missing out on so many groups by focusing on the buurtbruk which has a very homogenous group of people somehow. Where are the other people and how can we reach them? And, what will we tell them? How do we get them in, and into what??
In the evening we have a really nice dinner with my father Bert and his wife Margot. We bring some ‘kruidenlikeur’ from our apartment to make a drink, to wash away the agitated moments of our day, and talk about Hungarian politics, filmmaking and what had been the advantages of Covid. In the kitchen I overhear my father en Margot say: ‘so nice to have these girls over, and what a nice girl is this Zsofi’ :)
( Photo with father/81)
DAY 281 (Jetske and Zsofi)
written by Jetske
The cooking day.
We have a super intense but very successful day. After doing our quick morning rituals (Zsofi does yoga in the living room and I do my Chi Kungs in the ‘backyard’) and greeting the Altar of the Porc (with the intention to transform the violence the animal must have met into love and gratefulness), we arrive at the Buurtbruk at 9 and start cooking immediately, since there is quite some time-pressure.
(Photo altar meat/82)
Zsofi cuts the meat in beautiful pink slices and then into neat blocks. I am the onion girl. I don’t cry. Soon we get help from Chance, a beautiful strong woman from Burundi. She takes over my onions, without crying and does the carrots without hesitation, and also the knolselderij. I switch to garlic. A bit later also Helmi starts helping, she peels 5 kilos of potatoes for us, which I grate so we can fry them in oil. It was actually her cooking-day, but she made a place for us to let us do our anarchist cooking-choreography and lent us her sharp knife from a special bag. Roel makes us coffee with a ‘lange vinger’, he is a big and cheerful guy also working for Trajekt. Annet is one of the new volunteers. ‘Maastricht has no artists?' she asks, sceptically. She finds it hard to understand why artists from Amsterdam are doing this project here in Pottenberg. I tell her we plan to involve local artists too and she gives me some contacts of artists in the neighbourhood. In the end we are in this big collaboration, Zsofi as the chef-cook taking all the responsibility for the recipe and its outcome, with a cool head and full focus.
(69 Photos cooking process/83)
We are still very busy when the first customers come in, but we are ready to serve out the first plates and bowls. Geerte tells me I should be in front to meet the people, so I sigh deeply and step forward to leave the safe space of the kitchen. Ready for the Big Social Interaction. I sit at different tables (‘go to this table now’, Geerte directs me, ‘they are also from Potteberg’) and start conversations. How is the food and how is life in Pottenberg, etcetera. I feel quite incompetent, like I never know how to ask the right questions and what to ask next, but I have this friendly smile and they buy it. People find it hard to understand what we are exactly doing here, but they like the idea of an event for all Pottenbergers. After the last guests leave we help Annet and Anna, the other volunteer, carrying the last cups and plates to the sink. The kitchen has been completely cleaned by all our co-workers. We bring home two cups of soup and some pieces of vlaai.
( Photos event/84)
DAY 282 (Jetske and Zsofi)
written by Jetske
We make a nice walk through the neighbourhood and its little allies and gardens. Some of the gardens are so proper and neat, and some of them seem to mirror the chaos that is hiding behind the window. Life is so complicated. Some of us survive on structure and properness. Some of us get lost in the difficult labyrinth of contemporary society. We all juggle our way through life and now and then we drop a ball. Observing the messy gardens I feel sadness but also empathy. More so than when seeing the strict order and tidiness. But we are all in the same boat, aren’t we!? I long for connecting to the people, the messy ones and the organized ones, to touch upon what lies beneath ‘the story’, and what remains long after the subjects have vanished.
(Photo jetske garden/85)
So, after this philosophical intermezzo I’ll stick to the facts again. We decide to get free ‘vlaai’ at the bakery and bring it to our neighbours. In line for the busy bakery we get some compliments for the soup. First we meet Jos(je) van den Akker, our neighbour right underneath us, from 80B. We catch her just before she enters her house and she starts talking. About the disappointment in Woonpunt, their betrayal, the insecurity of their housing situation. About their fight to be able to stay in this house until the house opposite would be ready, that’s what they were promised. 70 years old she is, she has one son who lives nearby, 4 grandchildren, the oldest one is 10. She is just on her way to Ria. We leave one piece of vlaai in her kitchen (wow, her apartment looks spotless when we peek in) and we follow her with the one left over piece of vlaai to Ria.
(Photo vlaai jetske + line at bakery/86)
Ria welcomes us in her house full of paintings, pictures of grandchildren, wooden love hearts hanging from the cabinet. A house filled with memories of 60 years living here. They moved in just after the building was built. She shows how she has been knitting (haken) (?) this DIY-kit Lama for her granddaughter. Me and Zsofi sit on the sofa and they keep talking about Woonpunt and all the suffering they have created for them. Zsofi redirects the conversation by asking who is the girl in the picture. “It’s a portrait of my daughter made by my husband who died in November”. She tells about his painting skills and their family. Then Zsofi suggests another great question to stay away from the Woonpunt discussion. Were there any memorable festivities/ events in Pottenberg, in the early days?
Yes! The women light up when they tell about the ‘Braderie’ that was on the centre-lawn. There would be a 2nd hand market, some music and food, a ‘luchtkussen’ for the kids. It was great. Zsofi brings up the 3rd brilliant question: What about the sheep she once saw in the park next to the Romein? The women laugh and tell us the anecdote of how the sheep that sometimes graze there to maintain the meadow, once passed by the Mammoth building on their way to the park. How the sheep were grazing on the centre-lawn and how the children screamed; look, oma, sheep!!! And how they all looked out of the window and saw the sheep with the herder and the sheepdog keeping them in their place. It was such an amazing sight! Another neighbour complained that the sheep could not stay overnight there because she didn’t want to wake up at six in the morning by their bhebhebhebhe. Then Zsofi and I knew: In June, we will organise a Braderie in Moha -style, and the sheep will definitely play a crucial part in this!!! Ria and Jos repeat how busy they are, but they will be up for another meeting, maybe together with all the ‘Stayers’. We tell them we would come by next time we are there.
( Photo ria and jos/87)
DAY 282 (Jetske and Zsofi)
written by Zsofi
We wake up, do our exercises as every day: Jetske outside, me inside. We leave 5 minutes before 10 and walk towards Paul’s address. We both feel it is not easy to meet someone new. It can be either a very nice encounter, but what if someone feels like talking without stopping for hours? To not feel trapped we make a plan to leave at 11am, whatever happens. We ring the bell and no one answers, seemingly Paul is not home. We write an email, to which he immediately answers: he has a last minute program - if I understand well he is visiting a house where he might move later. We think aaa, so this could be our question to him: why are you leaving?
We walk further, going along these backyard streets. One is closed with a wooden plank. It seems like someone just used the corridor as part of their garden. One of the houses has a huge massive bush natural entrance tunnel gate. No fence. From inside there is no light coming out, only a deep darkness. It feels heavy. In their garden there is a broken or unused clothes hanger. There are raindrops hanging from it all over. The whole street feels dodgy. The houses along here are tiny and are inhabited in very different ways. Some feel like the best homes but some are stuffed with unused furniture, objects. Even if I thought I knew the neighborhood quite well, the walk shifts the image I had before about it.
(photo gardens dark allees/88 )
We have a quick lunch and Jetske leaves. I plan to stay and I plan to go to the cinema in the evening. I feel very heavy and I do phone calls instead. I stay and I try to stay warm. I feel stressed about the ride the next day to Eindhoven because there is a strike. I calculate and have to accept that the only train and connection I can have is arriving 45 minutes before the flight. After checking hopelessly expenses accommodations, I decide to stay and just believe that everything will work out. I take out the trash the night before sleeping, that is my night movement. From my bed I hear the voices of the neighbours. It is unsettling somehow.
DAY 283 (Zsofi)
The day of leaving after a night in the house alone. I wake up at 6am, put on the lights, I take on clothes I can’t do more than the minimum. I pack my stuff, I empty the fridge, I disconnect the plugs, I put the things in the trash that I can’t take with me. I check the time and I have to leave since Bolt or Uber shows no available cars, as I expected. I leave in a rush, it is 45 minutes left until the train leaves. All my stuff is on my back, it is heavy. I am stressed and I am walking as fast as I can. Normally from weight my back hurts, but I feel I am on a mission. I have this thought to stop a car and ask if they could take me to the station, but then I don’t do it. I have no choice but to hurry, and it upsets me. I am sweating like crazy with all the layers of clothes. I see five people all in all until the station but maybe less.
89 video night