About Me

 A poet and a painter, I  design, implement and teach creative art education. Since 2003 I have been lecturing and mentoring students at the pop dep. of the conservatorium, University of the Arts in Amsterdam. With my DarkEnsemble I produces experimental albums. I am the mother of two teenagers and have an old grumpy cat. I consider myself to be a neuro-divergent, gender fluid homebody who prefers a quiet life spend in contemplation.   

On a personal note:

Never would I invite you to come to my birthday party where tigers are better looking.

 Where the fat woman's joke goes horribly wrong.  Where the red tulips  are too excitable, their redness corresponds with my wounds while I long for the white walls only to be found in a room of once's own.  The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; they are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, as he paces in cramped circles, over and over. Only at times, the curtain of the panter's pupils lifts, quietly--. An image enters in, rushes down through the tense stillness of the muscles, then into the heart where it disappears.


The grapes of wrath no longer taste sweet to those who seek the queen of spades at the top of the magic mountain only to find a woman of no importance exchanging her wuthering heights for the lowlands of Mansfield park, so appropriate for the second sex.  Meanwhile, on the waves below the old coastline,  the old man and the sea join .

However in the innermost hour of the soul appears der Steppenwolf in almost a Faust-like fashion to bring notes from the underground where dead souls collect the poet's dust.

Is it all much ado about nothing to the conformist serving, or should I say surfing, less than zero? 


If this is a man in his totality and infinity, it must be a man's search for meaning. Beyond good and evil lies the joke, lies our ethics lies in the metamorphoses that always awaits us on the way to language.

If this isn't, what is...