Cubism

Art my parents hate

The title of this art piece is a lie, but it's more accurate than most real stories you love, which are either filled with falsities or cherry-picked -- this is what you want.

So, the title of this art piece is the truth.

My mom (in friendly words) keeps telling me about how she doesn't like my recent poems. What she means, and where she is correct, is that they are not great at communicating my ideas. 

It's the same reason I struggle to read poetry; it just doesn't resonate. But still, I'll keep creating poems that I likely wouldn't enjoy had I not made them.

Until I find a way to change them, and by then, she'll have forgotten that she was a big reason behind the change. 

My dad doesn't even hate my poems; he doesn't care for them at all. They mean nothing to him.

Success wouldn't mean making my mom, who studied the English language at some university, like my poems. I'm sure I could make her care. 

No, real success means making even my father, who surely influenced my indifference to language, care.

Henri Matisse

Always changing house

I've only ever lived in three buildings. The first one, because of me, we had to leave within the first year of my existence, and the second one I spent most of my life in, about 21 years. 

And that one building was many more houses than most people live in during their entire lives, to my great annoyance. And probably to my parents their great annoyance too; I don't believe they had much control.

Anytime I woke up, I had to relearn the layout -- I often had to clear out the dishwasher, and there wasn't a day where I didn't need to ask where something needed to go (and they'd always complain about having to explain the 'logical' layout).

I remember one early morning waking up and still finding my mom moving closets in the living room. I told my dad she was up early, and he replied that she hadn't slept yet, which probably indicated a stressful period, but I was too young to understand.

The weirdest part is that somehow, my apartment seems to be struggling with similar issues, though suspiciously now, I do always know where everything is.

Hunger

If you analyze my life (and are a little weird), it could appear like, since the age of 14, I keep gaining weight, just so that I can lose it again, so that I can gain it again, on repeat. 

Since moving out, I had to relearn how to feed myself, including, for some reason, that you can't keep food in the fridge for that long and that I can't handle having snacks around as I'll never stop eating them.

Recently, I've been trying to lose weight again. Even when I eat whatever I want, I'm always hungry, so it's rough.

Unrelated, I've also been trying to get better at selling my art, which is difficult because when I'm free from my job, I don't want to spend it on another instead of working on my art. 

In that sense, ironically, because I'm not "hungry" enough, it's hard to get better at selling my art, though this is as much a privilege.

But some days, I daydream about my hunger for food overtaking my ability to reason so that I'll start eating my art. I'm sure that'll make it sell.

Finding meaning in anything

Only once was I ever depressed. 

My parents never recruited me into a religion, nor did they push me away absolutely, though probably more than they realize.

They convinced me that there weren't any spiritual omniscient beings and that the idea was ridiculous, the latter coming naturally; if you're sure it's nonsense, the concept quickly becomes laughable. 

It's hard not to look down on people who you ""know"" believe in silly creatures, and I wasn't above it either. Even now, while I cognitively recognize we can't know, and much of the conclusion is almost evolutionarily determined, I'm as jealous as I feel superior.

In the most respectable way I can. Because everyone, presumably, feels the same way (though they are wrong as I am right.)

But then, one day, I realized that if not for the spiritual, except for being happy, there's no reason to exist, which took me by surprise for probably less than a minute, when I understood it meant I got to pick whatever I wanted, optimally one day forgetting it ever was a choice.

I suppose the religious people might've figured this out quicker than me. 

And now, way too much like my parents, my art, words, family, and walks are my meaning.

Blind Guy's World

In early February, I walked into the Citadel in Den Bosch to look at one of the great perspectives of the city. I sat down on a bench, listening to Echoes. 

A little later, a guy I had noticed a minute before found the bench. I assumed he also wanted to enjoy the view.

""I don't care much about the concrete,"" he told me. He mustn't have noticed my headphones, or maybe he didn't care, and because I didn't want to make it awkward and was severely confused, I responded, which I wouldn't typically: ""What do you enjoy?""

I was mostly confused because the perspective we were looking at contained no concrete.

And without thinking, he explained: ""Solid shapes, depth, dots. Colors do nothing for me."" Part of this seems reasonable, but sometimes, when someone gives me a subjective opinion I don't share, I can't believe them. 

Then, I knew it was time to leave. I hadn't been able to enjoy the perspective much since noticing the guy anyway, and now he wasn't making much sense.

I told him he had some good taste and that I had to go. Only when I had left the Citadel and walked next to the water I noticed he was blind -- because while flying away from the bench, he crashed into the bridge.

So, in his honor, I recreated that guy's world, or at least what I could understand from his confusing opinions.

Staring At My Incomplete Work

If you ever caught me like this, which you never could, it would be easy to assume that despair is tormenting me.

Yes, I might be frustrated, but somehow, this is the most satisfying and worthwhile activity to pursue.

Often, I complain about not having enough time (to work on my art). And this takes many minutes, multiple times a day when I would otherwise be busy painting. 

While torture wouldn't be able to uncover what I'm thinking while sitting there, I've never wasted a minute staring at my incomplete work.

Then, when a piece is complete, I never look at it with the same passion. I still love (and hate) it, but there's so much less to see when you've already made all the decisions.

Most Details Are Redundant

Most details in art (and life) are redundant. I probably only believe this because my work isn't that exact.

Of course, my art does contain detail -- it's impossible not to have detail if you're portraying anything, especially if you've been doing it for a while. 

But when I think about 'detailed' work, I think about purposefully capturing small elements relating to the idea of the art piece. 

Instead, I focus only on what makes the idea engaging. And then, I use details solely to make those few elements more intriguing.

However, someone might call my art redundantly detailed, and I might prefer a needlessly detailed piece over one with few. 

So it's all just arbitrary gatekeeping in the end.

Need To Create Something Good

Inside of everyone, presumably, is an urge to do something meaningful.

But instead, because I don't believe in meaning, I'm trying to make good art -- which, somehow, I've convinced myself is purpose.

And I satisfy this urge probably any time I finish a piece, or at least in the following days while staring at it.

If I stare at it long enough, some hate also arises, which drives me to make more art. 

That hatred never goes too deep: I appreciate what I learned and being able to see the ideas I sat on for, most likely, a couple of weeks.

I keep bouncing between loving and hating a piece until it has been on my wall long enough. Then it feels like it always was. Like it being there is a fact of the universe. 

At that point, I lose the ability to love or hate it.

Hopefully, I never make anything too good. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. 

There's no reason to repeat yourself over and over if what you've already done is as good as it gets -- which would leave nothing else to do.

Even Sober Months Disappear

I'm sure that humans invented language in part so that they could better complain about time going fast. 

So here's the obvious: somehow, it feels like, at least when looking back, every couple of seconds, a day passes. 

Habits are something my brain likes. When I was using drugs, this also quickly became a habit. While it was, time evaporated, and I spent much of it on useless dopamine machines.

In hopes of slowing down time, in part by spending it better, I decided to get sober. 

And now, even sober, spending my time better, months are disappearing.

My instruments

"Creating any art requires some instrument, I think, and possibly, partially, because of that is why there's such a fascination with instruments from artists. 

Some instruments are also just fun objects to portray. Some companies have good logos, but the branding of pianos and certain guitars is incredible, so much so that merely glancing at them makes you want to play.

In this case, looking around my room made me want to paint the instruments I sometimes, but not often enough, use to make music. There's something to portraying one art form with another."

Zen Dageraad captures the essence of an early 20s song with a vibrant depiction of solitude, inspired by Vincent van Gogh's bedroom painting.

Empty Bed Blues

Drawing inspiration from the melancholic notes of the early 20s song, 'empty bed blues', Zen Dageraad embarked on a journey to capture its essence on canvas. The rhythm of the tune awakened memories of Vincent van Gogh's iconic bedroom painting, which Zen Dageraad channeled into his artwork. Presented is a room bathed in intriguing hues: a stark blue bed and an equally desolate chair take center stage, surrounded by verdant green walls. These walls come alive with splashes of pink artwork, while a solitary yellow window stands as a beacon of hope or perhaps solitude. Adding depth and dimension, the vibrant orange floor is meticulously divided into myriad shapes, each varying in shade, creating a rich tapestry of color and emotion. It's a visual ode to loneliness and contemplation, resonating with the soulful tunes of its musical muse.

Zen Dageraad's art mirrors Matisse's self-reflection on past works, showcasing a vivid canvas scene amid purple-shaded backgrounds.

Matisse's Shame

Inspired by the poignant reflections of Henri Matisse on his past creations, Zen Dageraad presents a profound visual narrative that interlaces with the words: "so matisse said he was ashamed of his older work. No need, of course, but sure, I get it matisse. I know what you mean." This sentiment, echoed by many artists including Zen Dageraad, underscores the evolution of an artist’s perspective over time.

Zen Dageraad's piece is a vibrant tableau of emotions. At its forefront, a blue-green canvas, touched by a pink brush, stands proud, framed in passionate red. Behind it, an orange window captures the viewer's gaze. A luminescent yellow light cascades from a green string, illuminating the scene. The backdrop features three purple stripes, each filled with varying shades, crafting a room that resonates with the soul's introspection.


Dive into the realm of unrestricted creativity with Zen Dageraad's expressive artwork and poem, portraying a quest for artistic freedom.

Need To Be More Free

The narrative unfolds in a realm where self-expression clashes with the unyielding chains of conformity, embodied in the form of a mesmerizing artwork. At its core is a quest, a quest for unbounded creativity, encapsulated in a poem - 'me & my art, look at me, floating, I wannabe, more free, drawing, floating, free.' This potent narrative is brought to life by Zen Dageraad through a poignant portrayal of a blue figure with streaks of green in its hair, floating in a dimension defying space. The image projects the artist's inner turmoil and his yearning to break free into a realm of unrestricted artistic expression. Grasping a pencil, the figure tirelessly sketches on a red canvas, seeking to mold the shackles that bind it into keys of liberation. The contrasting shades of yellow symbolize the varying degrees of entanglement and freedom, with each side casting a different shade, reflecting the evolving emancipation of Zen’s creativity. This evocative blend of poem and visual art not only drives a deeper engagement but also renders a silent yet potent voice to the innate desires of the artist. The picture is a beautiful chaos, resonating with the beats of unrestrained freedom and unfulfilled desires, echoing the sentiments of every creator striving to break free from the mundane.

Explore Zen Dageraad's imaginative convergence of a poetic and visual narrative in a vibrant artwork, evoking an unplanned encounter near the bosche broek.

Man With Hat

Delve into a riveting narrative encapsulated in Zen Dageraad's unique art piece, reflecting an encounter near the bosche broek, immortalized both in poetic and visual mediums. The artwork resonates with the whimsical essence of a chance encounter, channeling the spirit of Picasso, as witnessed through the poetic lines 'near the bosche broek, I saw this man in a hat & I thought hey Picasso, how about that.'

The artwork’s inception came from a serene walk in Den Bosch, near the bosche broek, where Zen Dageraad saw a man with a hat that spurred the desire to etch the image onto canvas. Notably, just before this creative urge, Zen Dageraad explored imitating Picasso's 'Girl on the ball', finding an intriguing blend of similarity and contrast between the two renditions.

Central to the canvas is a purple man adorned with a pink hat, expressing a narrative through gestures; waving with his left hand towards another hat-wearing figure in the distance, this one veiled in green. Over the arc of the reaching arm, a small green chair hovers amidst an orange backdrop, under a serene blue sky hosting three green birds. The scene, filled with abstract symbolism, bridges the space between the quaint reality of Den Bosch and the whimsical allure of Picasso’s imagination.

Zen Dageraad's art captures the legacy of Mark Rothko, exploring the bond between artist & artwork. Poignant commentary on appreciation & context.

Love, Don't Kill The Artist

Capturing the essence of the relationship between the artist and their art, Zen Dageraad presents a poignant commentary on the legacy of artists. The piece juxtaposes a portrait of Mark Rothko, framed within a heart, with one of his iconic artworks, "Untitled (Blue Divided by Blue)," side by side on a wall. The vivid setting is painted in varying shades of red; from the lightest hue on the floor to the darker shades on the surrounding walls. A striking purple bench sits on the ground, casting a deep red shadow, flanked by a green door and window.

Inspired by a personal conversation about Picasso's sketches and how context influences art appreciation, the piece delves into the paradoxical nature of artists' lives and legacies. Rothko's intent to "kill the artist" culminated tragically in his own death. Yet, the art remains, and in part because of his tragic end, it is now extremely popular.

Dive into Zen Dageraad's artistic exploration of identity and success in art. The piece, through color and poetry, questions what it means to be an 'artistic failure.'

Artistic Failure

Immerse yourself in Zen Dageraad's introspective exploration of identity and artistic journey. The piece captures a poignant narrative through the written word and vivid visuals. Dageraad uses colors and figures to echo the sentiments conveyed in his striking poem. "This is not me," he begins, alluding to a face in the top right corner, its sadness underscored by a light red hue and a purple eye filled with longing.

The intricacy lies in the details. Three arms, filled with darker red, extend from the head. Two hands, gesturing in a begging pose, carry 3 coins and an artwork bearing the creator's signature. A hint of self-doubt, perhaps, or a reflection of the commercial trials faced by Dageraad. Yet, his affirmations of artistic success are mirrored in the vibrant pink walls adorned with stark white paintings, and the dark blue door suggesting possibilities beyond.

His work culminates with a second eye at the bottom, lighter purple and equally compelling, positioned next to a wall. Overhead, the split canvas casts a darker yellow shadow on the floor, as if it absorbs the sentiments echoed in the artwork. Despite its original title, 'commercial failure,' this piece effectively contests the notion of failure, both commercially and artistically.

Experience Zen Dageraad's artistic vision of his solitary confinement in his studio, brought to life with vibrant colors and intriguing symbolism.

Trapped In Studio

In Zen Dageraad's vivid interpretation of his week-long solitude, one feels the intensity of confinement. Bounded by yellow-outlined walls adorned with whimsical purple sketches, he brings his creations to life, echoing a feeling of being besieged. His artistry transforms the corners of the room into separate entities; the bottom left and top right walls cloaked in a midnight blue hue.

The centerpiece, slightly shifted to the left, is an eye painted in shades of azure, perched upon a contrasting green chair. The seat, casting a shadow of deep blue, seems to radiate an uncanny sentient aura. The eye, amidst the confinement, glows with anticipation and curious exploration.

To the right, an overhead lamp spills soft pink light across the room, playing on the chair, the diligent eye, and a table angled distinctively from the seat. This table, tinted with the same blue as the top-left wall, hosts a variety of brushes dipped in vibrant colors—pink, green, yellow, purple, and blue. They symbolize the artist's coping mechanism, creating amidst isolation, hinting at the brushes' role in manifesting this 'in-studio' entrapment.

Against the light blue backdrop of the floor, the shadowed furniture and multi-hued palette brings forth a tableau of immersive creativity birthed out of solitude and illness. Thus, Zen Dageraad's artwork captures the relentlessness of his own creations, a testimony of the artist confined, yet defiant in his own studio-museum.

Discover Zen Dageraad's breathtaking art, merging vivid hues and nature's beauty. Inspired by poetic words, his buzzing bees ignite a vibrant ode to creativity.

Bees

Immerse yourself in the whimsical world of Zen Dageraad's expressive art piece, born from an evening of shared creativity and camaraderie. Drawing inspiration from a friend's book filled with engaging poems and captivating illustrations, the featured bees took flight in his imagination, culminating in an effusion of colors.

Two vibrant bees, bathed in surreal hues of blue and orange stripes, command attention with their pulsating red eyes. Their wings, a curious concoction of purples, contrast with their bodies, drawing one's gaze. They flutter above a unique landscape, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary through the artist's lens. Four ruby-red trees, each outlined by dual crimson lines, punctuate the scene with their vivid presence.

A solitary flower, an understated emerald spectacle lined with blue, anchors the image on the left. Above, a cotton candy cloud fringed with purple outlines the horizon, subtly shifting between two shades of pink. All of this set against a backdrop of a radiant yellow sky that transitions into a warmer, sun-like orange at the farthest corner.

The terrain is an amalgam of green and blue shades, hinting at Zen's trademark style of blending elements. Shadows cast by the trees and bees ripple on the darker green-blue surface, amplifying the sense of depth. The piece demonstrates an intelligent color palette strategy, with the sky, cloud, and ground reflecting each other’s hues, showcasing a cohesive unity amidst the diversity.

Unearth societal privilege in Zen Dageraad's artwork. A deep dive into artistic equity, visual metaphors, and poetic narratives.

Shoulders Of Silver Spoons

Immersing oneself in Zen Dageraad's poignant masterpiece, you're invited to explore a candid reflection on societal realities and the artist's yearning for equal opportunity. Enigmatically framed with two silvery symbols of privilege and happenstance, the piece provocatively challenges the status quo of artistic meritocracy. The symbols, appearing as both spoons and crosses, allow for a duality of interpretation, suggesting both inherited advantage and the spiritual undertones of sacrifice.

Inherent in this work, is Zen Dageraad's homage to the wisdom of Isaac Newton, a concept that seems to offer some solace to the artist's contemplation of disparity. Visual metaphor conveys the artist's aspiration to ascend, to gain a unique viewpoint despite societal restrictions. The single eye balancing atop these 'privileged shoulders' imbues a sense of vulnerability and resilience, underscoring the universal struggle of seeking truth and wisdom amidst inequality.

A profound lamentation echoes through Zen Dageraad's poetic prose, further resonating the melancholic, yet defiant spirit of this piece. The verses intricately weave into the visual narrative, reinforcing the desire to access insights of great minds, albeit from a disadvantaged standpoint.

Criminal Idols

In a stark and provocative exploration of modern idolatry, an artwork captures the paradox of elevating flawed figures to the status of cultural icons. The piece unflinchingly critiques the idolization of individuals in the music industry who glamorize violence and criminality. Drawing inspiration from the rap genre, particularly 'Drill', the artwork references a notorious rapper notorious for his verses that glorify real-life criminal activities.

A central figure, signified by a crown reminiscent of Jean-Michel Basquiat's iconic mark for idols, embodies the paradox. The crown signifies authority and achievement, yet its wearer is engaged in a heinous act, smiling and signaling approval. This dual narrative of heroism and horror reflects the complexities of the fandom, which often overlooks moral implications in favor of talent and charisma.

The crowd, depicted as passive onlookers, symbolizes the fans who unwittingly or knowingly endorse such destructive narratives. Their financial support fuels a vicious cycle, perpetuating violence and discord under the guise of artistic expression. This masterful piece challenges us to reconsider the idols we create and the influence they wield on society. It is a call to introspection and a reminder of our collective responsibility towards the narratives we celebrate.

Pablo

Drawing upon the poignant rhythm of the roadrunners' song, this artwork captures the essence of an older, more distinguished figure, reminiscent of the iconic artist Pablo Picasso. A subtle tribute to his unyielding charisma and undeniable talent, the piece is infused with a sense of both respect and humor.

The accompanying poem echoes a familial appreciation of the artist's brilliance, an aspect that is humorously contrasted by the suggestion that the artist was not without his faults. The piece encapsulates the song's dry wit, reflecting on the artist's romantic success despite his short stature, a playful nod to Picasso's renowned allure.

The artwork itself mirrors the artist in his later years. The lines, shapes, and forms pay homage to Picasso's distinct style, yet they are layered with a unique interpretation that adds depth to the piece. The creator's love for Picasso's work is evident, making this art piece a thoughtful and entertaining exploration of the artist's identity, legacy, and the impressions he left behind.

This subtle blend of admiration, humor, and critique offers a multifaceted perspective on the artist's life, highlighting his influence while also acknowledging his humanity. As such, the artwork and its accompanying poem present a captivating tribute to Picasso, illustrating the enduring impact of his work and personality.​