Knowledge of nature by Jan Eijkelboom

Knowledge of nature From the procession car we had a view now and then of forsythias, vividly set off against the dull misery of too well-kept houses. Near the aula we wondered what sort of tree stood there on the lawn with paper-white blossoms. We took it as read that it was a kind of prunus. After the music of Bach and coffee with cake we returned to the home of the deceased. Behind it the grass was covered with forget-me-nots, or so we thought. A former teacher was able to tell us however that it was periwinkle. Out of cut glass we drank the whisky to which the deceased, once a lighthearted taster, had given preference.

Jan Eijkelboom 1926 - 2008 [photo Internet]

Original title: 'Kennis der natuur'- From the collection: 'De wimpers van de dageraad', 1987 - Uitgeverij De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam

De pianist by Jan Eijkelboom

The pianist The fanatic folds at the top of the back of his tails when he pulls his right shoulder up high to then let his hand come down not for a sledgehammer blow but to bring about the lightest possible tone. Meanwhile Richter tastes the music as if he is chewing tobacco.	Jan Eijkelboom 1926 - 2008 [photographer unknown]
Original title: 'De Pianist'- From the collection: 'Binnensmonds jubelend', 2004 - Uitgeverij De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam

Il Poverello by Manuel Kneepkens

Il Poverello Waiting for the golden tramcar bound for the Nirvana of Nothingness the one from Wassenaar to Scheveningen I thought: Brother Dune, I thank you for your humility Sister Beach, I thank you for your nudity Brother Sea, I thank you for your alluvion This was what I thought though I had left brother Trunks at home.....

Manuel Kneepkens [1942]

Eire by Manuel Kneepkens

Eire What am I to do in this rain-drenched moss-green island the sun sets there whiskey-coloured visit a Pub, I think and from there drunk... -at the stroke of closing time full of midnight desires plan to call the sweetest copper-haired of all Ireland if she wants to be unfaithful, Miss Deirdre of Usnach with me, a stranger from Bergen, North-Holland (her fairylike green eyes as frivolous as an Easter Rising...) westwards far behind the molehills of the pixies! O, Ireland, Blissful Island besides the ulcus of Ulster...

Manuel Kneepkens [1942] (photo Internet)

Original title: Eire

The woman of the scales by K. Michel

The woman of the scales half hidden under the foliage of an imperial figtree she stands in a check apron broadly-build and on plastic slippers their red colour standing out vividly against her tanned skin she is about forty her children except the youngest have all left home and her husband, that's a different story she is not standing there doing nothing no, between the overhanging leaves protrudes the large opening of a sousaphone she holds its tubular body tight in her char-arms while she practises scales and the sparkling like full-blooded tones burst from the bell of the metal horn and her cheeks go boom flap boom flap up and down like the wings of a bird ponderously flying up out of the water later that day after the cleaning of the thirtieth hotel room she will put on another dress at home and make way with her sound ahead of the bridal couple, first to the church and then to the feast while the rest of the marching brass band will let themselves be pushed forward by her bass tones a last detail: she wears no rings she believes in the existence of the soul

K. Michel [1958] photo: Roeland Fossen

Original title: De vrouw van de toonladders From: Tirade 349 November/December 1993 - jaargang 37 - Uitgeverij G.A. van Oorschot, Amsterdam