Rosa van Walbeek

Still of Long / ing, an experimental film created during a five month bicycle tour from Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia to Ushuaia, Argentina. The film shows the constant motion of landscape surrounding a cyclist and plays with speed and duration while trying to capture stillness in movement and movement in stillness. Accompanied by the many different sounds of the wind, a whispering voice draws you into the mind of this human trying to move away from landscape, where the surrounding ending at the borders of her senses is the background to human life, into nature in which she is equally animal - equally earth.

Still of Long / ing, an experimental film created during a five month bicycle tour from Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia to Ushuaia, Argentina. The film shows the constant motion of landscape surrounding a cyclist and plays with speed and duration while trying to capture stillness in movement and movement in stillness. Accompanied by the many different sounds of the wind, a whispering voice draws you into the mind of this human trying to move away from landscape, where the surrounding ending at the borders of her senses is the background to human life, into nature in which she is equally animal - equally earth.

Still of Long / ing, an experimental film created during a five month bicycle tour from Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia to Ushuaia, Argentina. The film shows the constant motion of landscape surrounding a cyclist and plays with speed and duration while trying to capture stillness in movement and movement in stillness. Accompanied by the many different sounds of the wind, a whispering voice draws you into the mind of this human trying to move away from landscape, where the surrounding ending at the borders of her senses is the background to human life, into nature in which she is equally animal - equally earth.

Still of Long / ing, an experimental film created during a five month bicycle tour from Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia to Ushuaia, Argentina. The film shows the constant motion of landscape surrounding a cyclist and plays with speed and duration while trying to capture stillness in movement and movement in stillness. Accompanied by the many different sounds of the wind, a whispering voice draws you into the mind of this human trying to move away from landscape, where the surrounding ending at the borders of her senses is the background to human life, into nature in which she is equally animal - equally earth.

We’re used to not looking into people’s homes, but have you ever wanted to listen in? In Living Room Orchestra, a collaboration with Annabel Schouten, we invited visitors to The Night of the Violin to look and listen through the windows of Tivoli Vredenburg into the city. The buses rushing by, cyclists overtaking each other, walkers, café-goers, and the windows of houses with lights on. In five of these houses, people play the violin. Listening to someone experiencing an unprecedented musical experience in their own environment is the starting point of our investigation. What does the daily dialogue between the violin and its player sound like? We’re curious about how playing an instrument can deepen your inner connection, bring you joy, and allow you to face personal challenges. What does it sound like when you hear someone play from the mind, and what does it sound like when you play from the heart? In Living Room Orchestra, we highlight the high standards we place on ourselves. We currently live in a society where almost everything that’s put out there is a finished product. In this work, we ask the violinists to be very vulnerable, and we make the audience part of their journey to the stage.

We’re used to not looking into people’s homes, but have you ever wanted to listen in? In Living Room Orchestra, a collaboration with Annabel Schouten, we invited visitors to The Night of the Violin to look and listen through the windows of Tivoli Vredenburg into the city. The buses rushing by, cyclists overtaking each other, walkers, café-goers, and the windows of houses with lights on. In five of these houses, people play the violin. Listening to someone experiencing an unprecedented musical experience in their own environment is the starting point of our investigation. What does the daily dialogue between the violin and its player sound like? We’re curious about how playing an instrument can deepen your inner connection, bring you joy, and allow you to face personal challenges. What does it sound like when you hear someone play from the mind, and what does it sound like when you play from the heart? In Living Room Orchestra, we highlight the high standards we place on ourselves. We currently live in a society where almost everything that’s put out there is a finished product. In this work, we ask the violinists to be very vulnerable, and we make the audience part of their journey to the stage.

TideRide workshop: after an introduction into cartography and the history of maps we rode along the north sea, curving our way over the sand as we individually followed the incoming and outgoing of the waves. Tire traces weaving, we each tracked the ever changing and ever temporal shoreline of land ending- and sea beginning. Comparing lines that are mapped in the blue of the sea we discussed the (non)-realism and (non)-objectiveness of maps. We each experimented with ways to bring the ever changing nature of living in time into a handdrawn visualization. TideRide is a workshop developed as part of ‘Temporal Mapping’, a cycling, art, & research and project questioning the temporal dimensions, visualization and (non)objectivity of maps. I do this through a series of events, performative actions and artistic outcomes creating new ways of representing the earth and its temporal dimensions.

TideRide workshop: after an introduction into cartography and the history of maps we rode along the north sea, curving our way over the sand as we individually followed the incoming and outgoing of the waves. Tire traces weaving, we each tracked the ever changing and ever temporal shoreline of land ending- and sea beginning. Comparing lines that are mapped in the blue of the sea we discussed the (non)-realism and (non)-objectiveness of maps. We each experimented with ways to bring the ever changing nature of living in time into a handdrawn visualization. TideRide is a workshop developed as part of ‘Temporal Mapping’, a cycling, art, & research and project questioning the temporal dimensions, visualization and (non)objectivity of maps. I do this through a series of events, performative actions and artistic outcomes creating new ways of representing the earth and its temporal dimensions. questioning the temporal dimensions, visualization and (non)objectivity of maps. I do this through a series of events, performative actions and artistic outcomes creating new ways of representing the earth and its temporal dimensions. TideRide workshop: after an introduction into cartography and the history of maps we rode along the north sea, curving our way over the sand as we individually followed the incoming and outgoing of the waves. Tire traces weaving, we each tracked the ever changing and ever temporal shoreline of land ending- and sea beginning. Comparing lines that are mapped in the blue of the sea we discussed the (non)-realism and (non)-objectiveness of maps. We each experimented with ways to bring the ever changing nature of living in time into a handdrawn visualization.

TideRide workshop: after an introduction into cartography and the history of maps we rode along the north sea, curving our way over the sand as we individually followed the incoming and outgoing of the waves. Tire traces weaving, we each tracked the ever changing and ever temporal shoreline of land ending- and sea beginning. Comparing lines that are mapped in the blue of the sea we discussed the (non)-realism and (non)-objectiveness of maps. We each experimented with ways to bring the ever changing nature of living in time into a handdrawn visualization. TideRide is a workshop developed as part of ‘Temporal Mapping’, a cycling, art, & research and project questioning the temporal dimensions, visualization and (non)objectivity of maps. I do this through a series of events, performative actions and artistic outcomes creating new ways of representing the earth and its temporal dimensions.

TideRide workshop: after an introduction into cartography and the history of maps we rode along the north sea, curving our way over the sand as we individually followed the incoming and outgoing of the waves. Tire traces weaving, we each tracked the ever changing and ever temporal shoreline of land ending- and sea beginning. Comparing lines that are mapped in the blue of the sea we discussed the (non)-realism and (non)-objectiveness of maps. We each experimented with ways to bring the ever changing nature of living in time into a handdrawn visualization. TideRide is a workshop developed as part of ‘Temporal Mapping’, a cycling, art, & research and project questioning the temporal dimensions, visualization and (non)objectivity of maps. I do this through a series of events, performative actions and artistic outcomes creating new ways of representing the earth and its temporal dimensions.

Installation version of my film 'How do I seek the light?' during Trial and errorrr, in which you are invited to individually lay in a tent on a camping mattress surrounded by a sleeping bag, book, toothbrush and a feather; the intimate surrounding of the few things Rosa brought with her on a long cycling journey. Within the tent you find a screen and headphones drawing you into a memory. A voice, singing and talking, shares with you the fear of the dark, of camping alone, of being vulnerable. The voice questions who hurts a human; another human and what other living entities; forests, rocks, grass, seed and rivers can protect a human.

Installation version of my film 'How do I seek the light?' during Trial and errorrr, in which you are invited to individually lay in a tent on a camping mattress surrounded by a sleeping bag, book, toothbrush and a feather; the intimate surrounding of the few things Rosa brought with her on a long cycling journey. Within the tent you find a screen and headphones drawing you into a memory. A voice, singing and talking, shares with you the fear of the dark, of camping alone, of being vulnerable. The voice questions who hurts a human; another human and what other living entities; forests, rocks, grass, seed and rivers can protect a human.

Text for the publication of the project 'Birds don't take the train but we do'. At the invitation of Xenia Klein (SE) a group of six artists traveled to Blekinge – a small archipelago region in the south of Sweden – to create a residency relevant to their surroundings. Together they explored bird migrations, eel fishing, stone carvings, personal childhood memories, and distinct food customs within the context of Blekinge’s archipelago culture.

The project “Birds don’t take the train, but we do” shape-shifted into an archival exercise and an artistic display of the everyday, made accessible through an online living archive and a portable exhibition-in-a-box: a treasury of found stories, texts, illustrations, postcards, paper sculptures, a recipe book, and audiovisual records of the experience. The photo shows the exhibited contents of the box during 'A scenic route to self' at Nest, Den Haag.

Iris van Peppen's work is based on embodied listening and live composition, where, for example, something initiated as sound can end as an image, or something that begins as the movement of a body can be perceived only as sound the next moment. She composes movement by bringing materials, bodies, light, and sound together. Lighting designer, composer, dancer, and choreographer collaborate on-site to create experiences of time and space with various materials. Something constantly changes, sometimes large, sometimes small, so you feel like you're constantly in a different landscape. An invitation to engage all your senses. I joined this project as composer/performer/videographer constantly changing roles and creating movement, image and sound.

Iris van Peppen's work is based on embodied listening and live composition, where, for example, something initiated as sound can end as an image, or something that begins as the movement of a body can be perceived only as sound the next moment. She composes movement by bringing materials, bodies, light, and sound together. Lighting designer, composer, dancer, and choreographer collaborate on-site to create experiences of time and space with various materials. Something constantly changes, sometimes large, sometimes small, so you feel like you're constantly in a different landscape. An invitation to engage all your senses. I joined this project as composer/performer/videographer constantly changing roles and creating movement, image and sound.

Publication MA thesis. In this physical thing you have in your hands made out of paper and ink from trees and plants filled with words, I describe my search to reconnect with my surroundings. I want to try and find out what defines humans' relationship to the natural world, how it got demolished, and how I myself can reconnect. This reconnecting serves as an inspiration to live and to create. The alternative ways of acting, thinking, and feeling that I will find are gonna influence my way of communicating, my work; my artistic practice. I hope to inspire others to start a process of reconnecting as well. To live as sensuous beings; humans, animals.

Publication MA thesis. In this physical thing you have in your hands made out of paper and ink from trees and plants filled with words, I describe my search to reconnect with my surroundings. I want to try and find out what defines humans' relationship to the natural world, how it got demolished, and how I myself can reconnect. This reconnecting serves as an inspiration to live and to create. The alternative ways of acting, thinking, and feeling that I will find are gonna influence my way of communicating, my work; my artistic practice. I hope to inspire others to start a process of reconnecting as well. To live as sensuous beings; humans, animals.

In the landscape of the print workshop of the Royal Academy of Art The Hague you could find places of my past. Are they places of the future as well? A glacier up in the mountain, on fire, by the red color of the sun. Slowly going back and forth into the shade. A sea, changing from dark blue to light blue. Waves moving back and forth while an orange sun is hanging still in the sky. A chicken, trying to cross a human build road. Where does the habitat of this animal end? What and who belongs to 'nature'? A closet with a water floor hides a pipe. A circle underneath the water, again human made, who lives within? The circle encloses another screen, smaller. A human, looking at an even smaller screen, tries to cross the road exactly like in the way the chicken tried to cross the road. Who does the human turn to in case of question? Which intelligence is consulted? This work was an invitation to take a trip through these landscapes, to tune into their rhythms, their tempi. To experience their spacial tension while being forced into a flat surface.

In the landscape of the print workshop of the Royal Academy of Art The Hague you could find places of my past. Are they places of the future as well? A glacier up in the mountain, on fire, by the red color of the sun. Slowly going back and forth into the shade. A sea, changing from dark blue to light blue. Waves moving back and forth while an orange sun is hanging still in the sky. A chicken, trying to cross a human build road. Where does the habitat of this animal end? What and who belongs to 'nature'? A closet with a water floor hides a pipe. A circle underneath the water, again human made, who lives within? The circle encloses another screen, smaller. A human, looking at an even smaller screen, tries to cross the road exactly like in the way the chicken tried to cross the road. Who does the human turn to in case of question? Which intelligence is consulted? This work was an invitation to take a trip through these landscapes, to tune into their rhythms, their tempi. To experience their spacial tension while being forced into a flat surface.