ABOUT bent

This is Beeld & Taal at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie Amsterdam.
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2017 June (assessments)

2017 June (assessments)


Bernke asked” but then if you’re not showing this to anyone,
you will have to think, why are you even writing?


I showed Temo the chapter about pain, she said ”It is well written, but this looks so painful even just by looking at it. “

I laughed and said, “ That’s why exactly it is good, right?”

She replied in a joking tone: “ Oh you’re such a pervert, this painful shit, thinking about it yourself is enough, don’t write this down, don’t write this down.”


Ti’An asked me

“Is it really good? The stuff you write out of this negative emotion?”

And she said

“Maybe this pain makes you productive, that’s why you’re always so immersed in it.

you’re addicted to writing too because you relate it to the feeling of pain and thrill.”


I write these down, literally because I don’t what else I should do with these emotions and thought, I write because I have to write

  1. as long as I go on writing, today is yesterday, and we’re still together. — Graham Greene

B. You, old woman, blessed with blindness, can speak the language that tells us what only language can: how to see without pictures. Language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. Language alone is meditation.

Tell us what it is to be a woman so that we may know what it is to be a man. What moves at the margin. What it is to have no home in this place. To be set adrift from the one you knew. What it is to live at the edge of towns that cannot bear your company. ——— Toni Morrison

C. as long as you’re writing, everything is gonna be fine.—Gijs Müller

The Friday morning, in between the two breakups, my headteacher, Gijs, who is mainly the visual art teacher was having this video class with us on Zoom, and he said, “as long as you’re writing, everything is gonna be fine.”

What he meant is, we don’t have to feel the pressure that we have to produce visual art. But I was totally relieved after I cried almost an hour in bed in the dark, after he said “You don’t have to cry quietly, come to me babe, in his arm. “ I was having a dizzy feeling of losing gravity all the time. suddenly I saw this sentence that my teacher said, I landed on my ground, “as long as you’re writing, everything is gonna be fine.”


As long as I am writing

Nobody can take anything away from me.

Not even time can wash this away, they will always be mine. The pain, the beauty, the love, the loneliness.


Sometimes I ask myself

Why am I even writing?

When I think of all the things that I’m gonna write down. Either they matter so much, that I couldn’t stand one more minute to bear this, I would talk to ten different people all day to get it out, Then I can’t just sit down and write about it.

Or, It’s really something that I don’t think as the most urgent, then I try to let it go like a good Buddhist. There are so many things going on in my head. I can’t just write everything, right? Then I would need to sit in front of the table, from waking up to going to bed, keeping writing, writing. And that doesn’t look like a desirable lifestyle.

So I came to this point, realizing the problem is not what the point of writing is, but maybe the choice of what to write about. There is too much to write down, and I am scared of choosing, I don’t want to say one thing is more important than another, thus more worthwhile being written down.

But then I also realize, maybe it is not about the content. For me, when I write like this, I just get a pen and paper, and start writing with only one sentence hovering in my head, it is always just full of surprise. I never wrote something that I knew I was gonna write before I saw them pope out after another sentence And I’m surprised all the time, maybe then that is writing. It is not even about the things I thought I would write about, it is about the things I didn’t even know that I was gonna write about.


Redemption preserves itself in a small crack in the continuum of catastrophe.

–Walter Benjamin

Sometimes, out of nowhere, these words just jumped into my head. “ I’m not happy!”

Then I remembered one time my friend said to me in a phone call “ what are you even unhappy about, it is great, everything is great”

It is true, everything is great, except me, I’m not great.

Don’t get me wrong, I am great, actually, I know that just as much as I know you are great. But this anxiety, that I’m not greater.

When I was dating a clever guy, I couldn’t really orgasm. I mean physically I do have orgasms quite a lot, but mentally I’m just not there, I’m not in the pleasure. not the feeling of losing, of letting go.

He was everything that I know why I say I love stupid things all the time. Smart people, so manipulative and judgmental, they are also competitive till the exhausting last second of the day, I remember one night I was so exhausted after a whole day of school, lying on the bed, and he just wouldn’t shut up about a debate we were having(if I’m allowed to say Tibetans are Chines).

I couldn’t stop either. I have to win. That’s some basic instinct that I’m wired for, I’ll have to win as long as I’m not dead ????.

I guess that’s why I’m just dead sometimes, spending all day feeling tired and anxious, but I just lay in bed, doing nothing. And the question of “ what did you do today?” became so confronting, what can we do?

We can spend all the time trying to build something up, a career, a relationship, a difficult book that you have to do research constantly along with reading. But they would sound like nothing, they would look like nothing, it is so slow.

I wrote this the other day

a productive day for an artist/writer

starts with this semi-depression

this state you’re not seduced by the joy of life

this destruction of the desire of life brings you into the desert of creation

fuck all the pretty picture on Instagram about studying

there is nothing romantic about the creation

you got stuck in a place

there are parties, sunshine, hot people with their naked bodies outside

but you’re gonna stay here

without moving your ass at all

it’s dark, coz you’re even allergic to sunshine

the life that looks good on pictures doesn’t really belong to you

you can’t do sports either, your knees are injured

choose a lifestyle

What are you choosing?

writer’s life, artist’s life

don’t worry I’m not complaining

long before I’ve already known what I’ve chosen

and I enjoy it

there is nothing I would love more than this

what did Merleau-Ponty not agree with Edmund Husserl and Martin Heidegger?

What are A Thousand Plateaus about? Capitalism and Schizophrenia?

Did you ever have the feeling that when you’re at your home, even though there are things you aren’t necessarily familiar with, but you wouldn’t feel anxious about anything, you just know, this is your game?

The challenges only turn you on, like the right dose of cocaine.

When I look back at the most productive days, they always started very shittily, sometimes I was so tired that I spent 2 hours trying to wake up, 1 hour in bed just to open my eyes, another 1 hour over coffee, sometimes the weather is so bad that I feel it is gonna be like this forever, nothing is ever gonna be better.

But then somehow I managed to get to my table, I read something thing interesting while scrolling through my apps, or maybe a picture of a notebook, that always works for me. Then I would start doing something which would lead to something else.


A confession of everyday faults (venial sins) is nevertheless strongly recommended by the Church. Indeed the regular confession of our venial sins helps us form our conscience, fight against evil tendencies, let ourselves be healed by Christ, and progress in the life of the Spirit. By receiving more frequently through this sacrament the gift of the Father's Mercy, we are spurred to be merciful as He is merciful”

— Catechism of the Catholic Church

The Catholic Church teaches that sacramental confession requires three "acts" on the part of the penitent: contrition (sorrow of the soul for the sins committed), disclosure of the sins (the 'confession'), and satisfaction (the 'penance', i.e. doing something to make amends for the sins).


And that is why I am writing still.

Writing about writing.

— Freedom and beyond

Zhuang Zi, 逍遥游
至人无己,神人无功,圣人无名 在《逍遥游》中,庄子用鲲来命名大⻥,然而实际上,古时鲲有⻥卵之意。庄子以⻥子的称 谓命名硕大无朋的⻥,这是他“⻬小大”思想的体现。

鹏看似逍遥,实际上是一种表象,庄子先让让人觉得鹏很厉害,再揭示出鹏所凭借的限制, 告诉我们别看它比蝉和麻雀大,“大”未必就更自由。这也是庄子辩证思想的体现。

Nietzsche and his horse

15 October 1844 – 25 August 1900
On January 3, 1889, in an outburst, Nietzsche left the home of his hosts in the Italian city to witness a scene which irreversibly touched his soul: a horse being whipped by the driver of a chariot. Seeing this, Nietzsche threw himself onto the neck of the animal to defend him from the blows. He immediately burst into tears. That same day, he was almost arrested for rioting, but was saved by his Italian host and taken home. The episode, hovering somewhere between legend and reality, marks the beginning of the madness which was to last 11 years until the very day of Nietzsche’s death

So when Friedrich Nietzsche had his mental breakdown, ( so historically famous that every outsider of the philosophy game uses it as an example that philosophers are nuts.) after seeing this horse being whipped by the driver of a chariot. Psychologically speaking, this is a typical case of projection, that he projects his own pain onto the horse that is being bullied by the chariot driver, which might be a distinguishing contradiction

N: I am devastated today Z: What happened?

N: I think people would never understand me, and my work Z: Tell me.

N: So you know how...
Z: Actually do you mind if I speak Chinese? Not that I’m not willing to speak English, I mean you’re not speaking German here either, it’s just your work is better-translated in English, my terms and references are more connected with Chinese language, so...

N:Sure, just do what makes you more free, I mean, it’s a big thing for both of us, no? Freedom.

Z: Thanks for the understanding, but do you think it would be a problem for other people? I mean we don’t have this conversation for them, but just in case anybody is interested in reading this.

N: yeah, then they should speak Chinese too, I have this discussion with my friend that she said when you write you should always assume that your readers are smarter than you, we didn’t reach a complete agreement in the end. But I guess that conversation kind of inspired me that maybe it’s also fine to assume your readers speak more languages than you.

Anyway, I was saying, so you know how I have this theory of Übermensch, and I was deeply convinced of it, but today I saw this horse being whipped by the driver of a chariot, I burst into tears and threw my arms around its neck, trying to protect it from the blows.

Z: Is that emotional overreaction a classical case of psychological projection? Did you think yourself as the horse?
N: Obviously.

Z: Since you mentioned the Übermensch thing, you should really wrote the story I wrote about Kun
N: What’s that?

Z: So there is this fish in the northern ocean, called Kun, it is so big, that is even beyond the measurement we human beings can understand.
N: Oh, is it real?

Z: No, it’s just a story from a collection book of myths, this is my thing, I always use a lot of ancient myth stories to talk about my own philosophical thinking.
N: Okay, I get it, I also use a lot of references from mythologies, Greek though. So you were talking about this fish...

Z: Yeah, so this big fish is called Kun, and when it changes into a bird, it is to be called Peng
N: Alright, now I know for sure it’s a myth.

Z: The back of this bird, Peng is like thousands of miles wide, when it flies, its wings obscuring the sky like clouds. So you can imagine, when it’s time for its voyage towards the Southern Ocean, just like shallow water can not support large boats, these two large wings need wind that is strong enough to support.
A cicada and a little sparrow laughed at it, saying “ When we fly, we make all the effort to go from a tree to another tree, and sometimes we couldn’t make it, then we would just fall and land midway, why would you even go to the Southern Ocean that is so far away?”
You know what I’m saying ?

N: I think I’m kind of getting it, you mean we’re the Peng that is pursuing something greater comparing to those normal people who are just like the cicada and the sparrow who are only after some small achievement ?

Z: Well, you can kind of understand it like that
N: So you’re the same, people don’t understand you either?

Z: This is not my main topic, I don’t care that much if people understand me or not, the real question here is if you understand yourself.
N: Oh, okay, I’m listening.

Z: So of course, here you can see the difference between the big and the small, what do the two small creatures know about the world of the big? And you would think there is a distinction between them, but maybe cicada and sparrow do have their points, it takes way more effort for Peng to fly, with the great power, it comes greater restriction.

N: I know what you mean here, but does one have a choice to be Peng or the sparrow? I mean you can say Peng or sparrow is better, but I don’t see the point if we can’t even choose.

Z: I think you still haven’t got the idea of my story. They are the same. There is not one thing is absolutely better than the other one. The big and the small are both trapped by the rules in their own way. Take, for instance, a man who creditably fills some small office, or whose influence spreads over a village, or whose character pleases a certain prince. His opinion of himself will be much the same as that sparrow's. The philosopher Yung of Sung would laugh at such a one. If the whole world flattered him, he would not be affected thereby, nor if the whole world blamed him would he be dissuaded from what he was doing. For Yung can distinguish between essence and superficialities, and understand what is true honor and shame. Such men are rare in their generation. But even so, he has not established himself.

17:30, almost dinner time again.
Why does the second hand of the clock run so slow? That is so strange! my neck started to hurt a bit because of the momentary lapse of concentration.
Maybe it is not that strange, I just never pay attention to clock before.

I tried to stretch the muscles around the neck a bit, I wonder since when I start to be excited about eating, I used to think it is annoying that human beings have to eat so repetitively. That was a lot of work. You wake up you have to eat. Around midday, you have to eat. At night when I just got home after a whole day, wanting to chill on the couch, I have to eat again!!? To stay alive, so much time is wasted. Imagine all the time could be spent somewhere else instead of eating.

When I met S, my life was turned upside down. If you think you are an amazing cook, well then you haven’t met S, because she, she is the magician when it comes to the kitchen. I simply love every meal she makes. I can't stop anymore. I started to caught myself (like what I am doing now) looking at the clock constantly, wondering when it's time for the next meal, wondering when I will hear that bing from the oven.

I think tonight we will eat my favorite. It is the most wonderful spicy chicken. Before I met S I never liked spicy food, it was simply hurting for me. But as I said before I am a different man now. Even my fingers are getting fat. That kind of worries me, I used to be proud of my six packs. I am kind of curious about how much weight I gained. When I started to get upset about my weight, S just threw away the scales at home, “ I just want you to be happy, honey.” that’s her words. Oh, so sweet.

BING! that was the oven. I can hear S opening the door and getting out the plats. I can now smell our flat bing filled with the smell of that spicy crispy chicken.

CLICK! that must be the rice cooker. I love how the smell mixes. In a way, it's also a torture. My nose is already feasting but my belly is kicking and screaming. I am staring at the clock again, my eyeballs racing with the second hand around and around.

It's now 17:54.
This I must say is another thing I love about S. she is always on time. there hasn’t been a day where breakfast, lunch or dinner, any of the midday or morning snacks were not served on time. nor a second late. but also not a second early. I love this consistency. It is just nice to know exactly when I'm being fed again. How does she do it? I think it might have to do with that machine she invented, and trying to get a patent on. I don't know exactly how it works, this little thing, but somehow she points the machine at the food like chicken or rice and this machine can break down the individual molecules of the chicken and it has some kind of alpha rhythm AI deep learning program. With that, it knows how long it needs to be cooked. and that isn’t all this machine does. It somehow also keeps track of the chicken trout in the process of cooking. S can see on her iPad how long it needs to be there or if it needs some turning or extra heat or spices.Hmmm... I love spices.

The machine is too perfect maybe. it is even capable of this weird thing. When I eat something she made with the help of her little machine. She can also see how I need to be cooked. In the beginning, it was just a joke we make. That she is like a modern but way sexier version of the witch in Hansel and Gretel. And we also made fun of how much extra fat or more seasoning I would need, she would say now you're just slightly sour, there is too much lactic acid in your body. But those are just stupid jokes like all the couples would make, she is also funny, I mean, what can I even complain about?

Am I complaining? No, they are just jokes, I am definitely not one of those not- cool guys who can't even take a joke, no, S always says how they are not cool at all. I am cool, especially with her jokes. But maybe this kind of jokes, she likes it a bit too much that now when she talked about it she would act so seriously as if it is not a joke at all. I am not saying that scares me a lot, but maybe just a little bit, I would laugh at it harder even than her. Maybe I need my laughter to prove it is just a joke, I mean what else can it be? She is going to eat me for real? That is absurd, I bet everyone would think I'm out of mind if I tell them I am thinking about this. Speaking of this, Who would I tell? I haven't talked to my mom since 16, she just left with dad telling me they need some extra space to sort out some marriage-problem in the end they didn’t solve , so none of them came back. Or I was the problem, maybe that is why I became so obsessed with S when we started to get closer, I finally had my own family again, I thought. When she told me how some of my friends were just using

me, and they were no good for me at all, of course, I stopped hanging out with them. Family first, I always knew, and I trusted her, she was the only one person that has been so nice to me in my life, what can I say, there would be nothing left in my life that means anything if she's not with me anymore. I am not saying she wants to, but if she does want to eat me, I think I will let her.

17:59, I can see her in the kitchen getting plates and some cutlery. It's dinner time.

“You’re so expressive, but when you talk, it’s always a monologue.”

Extensional anxiety

We would face death and so much pain alone in the end anyway And all the emotions are too strong and temporary to grasp
It’s too intense for me
I get anxious

I’m too emotional
Being with the person you feel in love with Is actually very cruel
You finally realize there is no salvation
If this is the best
What else can we even expect from life

Is the value of love overrated or underestimated? I am so into the moment
That I feel I could get over this any second

Like a vomit ????

Original sin
That’s the curse
“You would never understand my pain “ they say What do you know about my struggle
No I
Why would I believe this
What kind of Marxist date a trader ?
What kind of feminist shave ?

I had a dream about you
You were standing with another woman
I was scared
But I was still standing there
Like a reasonable grownup
At one point you said to her “but you never text”
She looked down on the ground for a short second, because of the guilt or shyness, ahhh... I felt so emotional, I don’t know what was I feeling, she
“if I have a kid with you, the kid would be such an animal.”
What’s that supposed to be ?
I was looking at the mirror in the dream
I saw in the reflection that you are sorting her hair
You’re so sweet
Of course you would be so sweet with her too
I’m not saying you’re more sweet with her

I’m not saying that
But I just felt hard to breath
What ? I talked about how I don’t wanna be monogamous at the first or second date. As you told me this
And I had a dream that I can’t breathe because you’re with another woman ?
Ok maybe seeing you with her right in front of my face is too much
I didn’t ask you to see me with another person
Why do I dream about this ?
Am I actually the jealous type and I want to have you for myself ?
Then does this become some kind of double standard
Why do we want to possess ?
Why do we get obsessed?
How long is this gonna last?
No one can be in love forever
I can’t
The other day I was on the ferry with my friend
I told him “ this is totally crazy, but I already can’t wait to marry him”
I remember this meme picture online

That Elsa from Frozen says to other princesses ????
“ you can not marry a guy that you just know for 2 days “

This time I woke up you’re not next to me anymore
Not the like the other 3 times I woke up before
I keep waking up and fall asleep again when I’m sleeping with you the first night I didn’t even actually really fall asleep
Why ?
Am I excited?
So my sister asked me “ how are you sleeping recently “
she said “I grew up realizing when you really care about someone,

you don’t need to ask more,
you just ask how do they sleep,
because how they live determines how they sleep.” So how is my sleep?
you kept asking me

“Are you falling ? Are you floating?” I hate my writing
But what else can I even write Maybe I just hate myself

Do I hate myself because I hate myself
Or do I hate myself because of infinite imaginary external gaze? while the general awareness of the gaze is all around us,
what does it even mean to live a life without the gaze?
what can we actually gaze at

in this society over-pumped by consumerism?

what you consume also consumes you, the things are infinite, while you’re not. what can we even do?
we’re so bored,

there is nothing real anymore,
everything is only a symbol,
the symbols of symbols,
in the dessert where there is only nothingness I am so tired

of myself
Can I just buy another new one

When I was kid
Things were easily getting overwhelming
I always had this feeling of block out
“ just wake me when this is over”
I waited
In silence in the numbness I developed to protect
And then one day I woke up realizing I can walk away
right away
in the situations that I get bored
I’m the Prince Charming that can save myself from all the nightmares I can simply just, walk, away
Nobody deserves to treat me the way I don’t want to be treated
And I should take the responsibility of saying

“ I feel so bored ???? , this is not what I want” I will try to be present every moment When I can’t
I would go somewhere I can

⁃ C: I am so tired, of life

  • ⁃ M: I thought you would never get bored

  • ⁃ C: I do.

  • ⁃ M: what do you want?

  • ⁃ C: Want? Why are you even asking me this question ? Who deserves to actually WANT something ? I just “want” what everyone else “want”, but the thing is first I don’t know if I actually want it, Second of all, I don’t know if everyone wants it , I mean maybe they don’t actually want it, they just say they want it. then in the end I’m just a fool who make so much effort ending up getting something that nobody even wants .

  • ⁃ M: I mean, if you’re so bothered by that, why don’t you just leave that behind and figure out what you want, only you, it’s not about anyone else.

  • ⁃ C: Ridiculous, why don’t you read some basic psychology before you spit some seemingly-reasonable shit around

  • ⁃ M: I’m just trying to help, you see, I can’t stand this self-pity, it is so disgusting that I have to listen to this whining again, literally, man, now I have this physical urge that I want to vomit. I thought we agreed on change.

  • ⁃ C:I do! You think I don’t want to ? I fucking want it worse than anybody else! But how ? When you showed up, I thought you are the cure. my fucking rotten soul...

  • ⁃ M: well, but also change is something that has to happen inside of you, you’re a strong person, I can’t force that on you. Only you can make it happen

  • ⁃ C : I am trying. but nothing feels right, I can’t even feel anything anymore, the only thing I can feel is the feeling of losing feeling. Don’t you see, I’m losing it. sometimes I wonder if this pain comes from the fact I’m not myself enough, you know what I mean ? maybe I’m fully myself I can just enjoy everything, like really feel the joy, not just imagine so hard I would enjoy so I can forget the things I thought I would enjoy but no at all.

  • ⁃ M: You see you‘re only talking about enjoyment here, or happiness, at most, But you don’t know about pain, that’s what we are real suckers for. We’re suckers for pain, That’s what moves us, baptize us, inspire us. There is nothing greater that pain can makes us feel so alive. Pleasure is good, but it gets weaker drastically each time. And you get bored. Boredom. That’s what we fear the most even more than pain. we would rather to taste death than boredom, at lease we can be at peace in death. What’s in boredom? only noise, so much noise.